Hi, I need help writing couple Articles Summary
Hi, I need help writing couple Articles Summary. Has to be own writing . No
copying from course hero or on line. I have attached both articles. Thank you. Here is the detail–
Article Summary: After reading the article U.S. Childhood Obesity and Climate Change: Moving Toward Shared Environmental Health Solutions located in Doc Sharing, write an essay that summarizes and analyzes the authors’ key arguments. The paper must be double spaced, a minimum of two pages in length, and in APA format (which includes citing the article in-text and on an APA-formatted reference page).
Article Summary: After reading the article A Tapestry of Browns and Greens located in Doc Sharing, write a paper summarizing, agreeing, disagreeing, responding to, or reflecting your personal thoughts and observations about the article. The paper must be double spaced, minimum two pages in length, and in APA format.
ATTACHMENT PREVIEW Download attachmentN. NadkarniMay 10, 2008A TAPESTRY OF BROWNS AND GREENS–The tapestry of life’s story is woven with the threads of life’s ties, ever joining and breaking.Rabindranath Tagore,FirefliesWhen I look closely at a hanging tapestry, I observe that the pathways of individual threads wendthrough warp and woof, each one unconnected to the other. Yet if I stand back and look at the wholetapestry, its intricate and beautiful patterns emerge. In a roomful of such carpets, I observe that those withthe most compelling patterns are composed of individual threads that have the highest intensity and mostcontrasting of colors. When I reflect on the tapestry of my own half-century of life, I see that the threadsthat have provided the greatest amount of influence on how I understand nature and my place in it arethose that came from the vividly mixed ethnic background of my Indian/Hindu and Brooklyn/Jewishparents, threads that set me somewhat apart from the mainstream culture of white middle class America inwhich I was raised. Being myself composed of different colored threads has allowed me to see thecomplexity of nature, and to communicate them to a wide range of audiences.It was near midnight at 10105 Dickens Avenue in October of 1966. The sleeping bags of my sixth-grade girlfriends lay like spokes around the central coffee table. Martha Bunn, my best friend since wewere seven years old, asked me: Nalini, what does it feel like to look so different from everyone else? Iremember opening my eyes wide in the dark room at her question. I had no answer. Until then, I had notrealized that I looked different from my white friends in the sleeping bags next to mine. But at thatmoment, I realized that my mixed heritage apparently did set me apart from others in my suburbanMaryland neighborhood — at least from their perspective. My father was a Hindu who emigrated fromIndia in 1946 for his doctorate in pharmacology. My mother was raised as an Orthodox Jew by parentswho had fled the pogroms of Russia in 1916, and who spoke Yiddish in their home in Brooklyn, NewYork. My parents met in graduate school, married, and moved to Bethesda, Maryland where my fatherspent his career doing cancer research at the National Institute of Health.The five Nadkarni kids were varying shades of brown. I was the third child, and was the darkest ofthe five, the most Indian in my facial features and body look. In contrast to other immigrant Indianfamilies in the area, who seemed to assimilate into western culture as quickly as possible, my parentsmade our home a “Little India”. They gave us all Indian names, which had meanings in Sanskrit: Saroj,lotus flower; Susheela, well-behaved; Nalini, water lily; Vinay, gentleness; Mohan, charmer. Even ourdog and cats had Indian names: Tipu, Manya, Nisha. At dinnertime, we sat on the kitchen floor and ate1Used with permission from the author.
View the AnswerN. NadkarniMay 10, 2008Indian food with our fingers, my mom circling the six of us, doling out curry and vegetablebhaji.Weslept on mattresses on the floor, just as my father had done in Thane, the small village of his birth.Christmas morning brought neither a crèche nor presents from Santa, as it did for all of our schoolfriends. Rather, the family gathered around our fireplace, bereft of Christmas regalia, while my parentsread excerpts from writings of Jawaharlal Nehru and Mahatma Gandhi. Each month, we received a letterfrom my father’sbhataji, or family priest, with a dozen Indian stamps pasted in the corner of the odd-sized envelopes. Even unopened, these were redolent of sandalwood paste andprasad, the sweet powderhe would distribute to each of us at the small alter of Ganesha, the god of good fortune and remover ofobstacles. The little ivory carving of our family deity resided on a bookshelf in the kitchen pantry, wherewe gathered if a family member were sick, or traveling, to giver prayers for their health or safe journeys.Our family found it very natural that that Ganesha sat right next to our Menorah, Haggadah, andHebrew dictionary, objects that embodied my mother’s religion. The image of our elephant-headed godwas somehow not at all a strange bedfellow to these three representations of Judaism, a faith that forbidsany representation of God. Our two religions lived side-by-side, just as my sisters and I slept comfortablytogether on our floor-level mattresses. Although my mother’s heritage was not as apparent as the Indianelements, Jewish holidays and traditions had a presence in our home. At Passover, we welcomedpackages of honey cake and Matzoh from my maternal grandmother, our Bubby, who practiced herOrthodox customs all her life. These represented her acceptance of the marriage of her daughter, who hadcommitted the unthinkable action of marrying outside the faith. Out of deference to her own parents, mymother did not tell her mother that she was married until after I – the third child – was born, because ofthe shame it would bring to her family. Civil law at that time also worked against them. My parents werenot able to legally marry in Washington D.C. – our nation’s capital – because of the miscegenation lawsthat still ruled 17 states. These forbade my dark-skinned Indian father – who was classified as a Negro –from marrying my white mother. They had to take a bus to New York and marry there to have their unionbe legal.That initial awakening at Martha Bunn’s slumber party, reinforced by my family history and the waywe lived made me aware that I was somehow different from others. But those deep cultural differencesmy family embodied did not create a conflict. Rather, it fostered something enriching, just as different-colored threads created the richness of Tagore’s tapestry. I believe that it set the stage for the way I havecome to view nature – not as consisting of monochromes, but rather as comprising many colors andtextures, all necessary to creating a complex and resilient whole.2
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