Unit 2: Part 3 Vocabulary

This is a day of national consecration, and I am certain that my fellow-Americans expect that on my induction into the Presidency I will address them with a candor and a decision which the present situation of our nation impels.

Action in this image and to this end is feasible under the forms of government which we have inherited from our ancestors.

We face the arduous days that lie before us in the warm courage of national unity; with the clear consciousness of seeking old and precious moral values; with the clean satisfaction that comes from the stern performance of duty by old and young alike.

In Defending Your Life, a charmingly provocative 1991 movie written and directed by its star, Albert Brooks, we discover that the only truly unforgivable sin in life is fear.

His attorney (for the benevolent managers of the universe provide defense assistance) explains to him the nature of fear, which is, he says, a “fog” that obscures everything and that makes intelligent, productive action impossible.

Lift the fog of fear and you could see that the Great Depression was not of natural, supernatural, or inevitable origin.

When employers advertised Jobs, they had their pick of workers and could indulge their preferences, or prejudices. Increasingly, they hired or kept on white men with work experience, leaving the young and old, the women, and the African Americans disproportionately represented among the unemployed.

The object of Americans’ solicitude became the imperiled white, male head-of-household, whose hardship they could understand as the nation’s concern.

The fresh prevalence of farm machines made it cheaper to produce more agricultural goods on a large scale, and as tractors appeared, mules and men went away.

There is a great exodus of girls from the farms into the city now. Thousands of farms have been vacated completely in Minnesota.

I’ve known many women to live like this until they simply faint on the street from privations, without saying a word to anyone.

Mrs. Gray, sitting across from me, is a living spokesman for the futility of labor. She is a warning. Her hands are scarred with labor. Her body is a great puckered scar.