Podcasts about russey

durée : 00:03:44 - La nouvelle éco - France Bleu Besançon

“On n'est jamais heureux que dans le bonheur qu'on donne. Donner, c'est recevoir.” Abbé Pierre Pourquoi nous engageons-nous pour la solidarité ? Comment analyser le bénévolat à l'aune de la notion de don ? Dans cet épisode, nous visitons le petit comité d'amis Emmaüs du Russey, dans le Doubs, à deux pas de la frontière suisse. Une structure, gérée uniquement par des bénévoles, qui fait de la collecte, de la revalorisation et de la revente d'objets la base de son projet solidaire. Les recettes dégagées sont consacrées à des actions de solidarité : aide aux familles, soutien aux associations locales, participation aux projets d'Emmaüs international... Nous y discutons avec Mireille, présidente bénévole aux multiples casquettes et à l'énergie communicative, mais aussi Michel, vice-président, Lara et Aurélie, en service civique, et Séverine, bénévole qui a fait le choix de réduire son temps de travail salarié pour s'engager au service de la solidarité. Autant de personnes qui ont choisi de se donner, de donner de leur temps pour Emmaüs, et avec lesquelles nous allons questionner l'affirmation de l'abbé Pierre : “donner c'est recevoir”. Ensuite, la psychologue Rebecca Shankland nous livre son analyse sur l'impact de l'engagement altruiste sur le bonheur, l'estime de soi. Elle nous explique en quoi s'investir dans des actions en lien avec nos valeurs permet non seulement de donner un sens à nos vies, mais aussi de se sentir moins démunis face à des situations inacceptables. --- UN AUTRE MONDE est une série de podcasts en trois épisodes sur les coulisses d'Emmaüs. Dans cette saison 2, l'auditeur·trice est invité·e sur le chemin du don. Au fil des épisodes, et à travers l'exemple d'Emmaüs, nous découvrirons que le don, la générosité et l'engagement sont des valeurs aussi simples que nécessaires à la construction d'une société plus juste, plus humaine et plus solidaire. Un grand merci à Mireille, du comité d'Amis du Russey, sans qui cette aventure n'aurait pas été possible, mais aussi à Michel, Séverine, Aurélie et Lara d'avoir accepté de témoigner et pour leur accueil si chaleureux. Merci, enfin, à Rebecca Shankland de nous avoir fait don de son précieux éclairage sur la question de l'engagement. Production Studio Ground Control ; direction éditoriale : Mathilde Girault ; production et écriture : Laura Eisenstein ; réalisation et mix : Frédéric Haury ; voix-off : Laura Eisenstein ; Identité graphique : Rose Bernard.

Compassion is one of our most admirable traits. And when it's combined with the enlightened use of power, the results can be truly inspiring.  The following story about Abraham Lincoln is a classic example. Told by his personal stenographer, who witnessed it first-hand, it presents an uplifting portrait of the noble heart and keen mind of the great leader.             As an aside, Lincoln was not a good-looking man. He was widely lampooned as the “ape from Illinois,” and Nathaniel Hawthorne once called him the homeliest man he ever saw. Bear this in mind when you get to the end of the story, as it will put a cherry on the top of this deeply moving tale.           So, according to the stenographer, in the summer of 1864, here's what happened -           As we approached the office of the Secretary of War, the President pointed to a woman sitting in the waiting room and whispered, “Find out who that woman is and what is the object of her visit.” Then he passed into Stanton's private office.           I saw a tall, gaunt woman in a plain, calico dress, whose eyes almost frightened me, the anxiety and despair in them were so great. I heard her whisper to a passing orderly, “I must see Mr. Stanton at once.”           “You will have to wait your turn, my good woman,” he coldly responded. I beckoned her aside and said cautiously, “Perhaps Madame, if you tell me your business, I can obtain an interview more rapidly.” With a grateful look she stammered, “My son is to - to be shot today by sentence of the court-martial.”           I requested details. “My boy risked his life in every engagement of the Vermont Regiment for two long years. He is all that is left to me. Speak to Mr. Stanton for me. Hurry! Executions nearly all take place in the forenoon. Hurry!”           “I will speak to one who may aid you,” I said, but didn't mention the President's name, though I knew she would have a much better chance with him than with the iron-faced, glass-eyed man who sat with him discussing the destinies of the Republic.           I stepped up to Madison, Stanton's office assistant and said, “Rap on the door of the Secretary's office.”           With extreme hesitancy, he did and I could see him shiver in his boots as Stanton's sharp voice shouted, “Damn you, come in.” At this moment the Vermont woman flew through the passageway and entered the dread sanctum of Edwin Stanton. Standing before him she said, “As you love God, give me the life of my son!”           “How dare you interrupt me, Madame!”           “How dare I interrupt! How dare I interrupt! My boy fought through the battles of the Peninsula, at Antietam, at Fredericksburg, at Gettysburg. He was wounded twice, enlisted again and now has been sentenced as a bounty jumper.”           “Ah, Private Charles Allen Putnam of the seventh Vermont,” responded the Secretary in frigid tones. “Madame, I'm sorry for you but I do my duty. Don't distress me by an appeal that is useless.”           Here, the impressive, but kindly tones of the Chief Magistrate of the nation intruded upon the conversation.  “Don't be in such a hurry, Stanton. Listen to any woman pleading for her son's life. You say your son, Mrs. Putnam, fought for his country for nearly 3 years? ‘Tis strange he is a deserter now.”           “Not a deserter.  He is simply a boy made foolish by a woman.” As she said these words, she turned to see the kindly eyes and Western face of the President and gave a sigh of hope, knowing she was addressing the supreme head of the nation.           “God has sent you here Mr. Lincoln, to hear my prayer!” She broke forth. “I am a widow up in Vermont. I have given seven sons to death for their country.  Will you take the eighth, the youngest one from me?”           “Seven sons?” The voice of Lincoln had grown as sad as that of the woman addressing him. “Seven sons? Stanton, you hear that? Seven sons!”           “Yes. All volunteered from our farm in Vermont. And this one, all that is left to me, he came home on furlough two months ago, and there saw the woman who has brought him to this. He returned to Washington and six days ago, he was arrested as a deserter. It was only to get a kiss or two from the fool girl and go back and fight again. Please listen to me Mr. President. Seven sons dead and this one to be shot because he wanted to kiss the girl he loves.           “Stanton, you must listen to this patriotic lady who was given up more than either your or I for this country,” muttered Lincoln, his voice husky and his sad eyes filled with tears.           But Stanton wasn't listening. As the woman was speaking, after one quick glance at Lincoln's sympathetic face, the Secretary of War had written a few lines hurriedly.  Then he stepped to the door and handed an envelope to Madison saying, “Immediate! Tell the orderly to hurry!” Having done this, he now turned back to the President.           “Listen to this lady, Stanton,” remarked Mr. Lincoln, “and see if there isn't virtue in her appeal for some revision, some commutation of her son's sentence.”           “Mr. President, I have sworn to myself, for the salvation of the American army, that no convicted deserter shall have pardon or commutation of sentence. It is vital that we stop bounty jumping in the present status of the recruitment.”           Overcome with despair, the woman moaned, “Mercy Mr. Stanton!” Then she turned to Lincoln and said, “Mr. President. as you love your own offspring, listen to me. You have a kinder heart!'           “Recite your case to Mr. Stanton. I do not wish to interfere, if possible,” he replied sadly. “Tell me what he says.” With these words, fortunately, he stepped out of the office into the passageway where I had been standing.  “I believe her honest Vermont face. Women like her do not lie,” he sighed. “But it's awful hard bucking up against Stanton.”           Emboldened by this, I whispered “Mr. President. if you have any intention of pardoning that man, you have no time to lose.”             “What you mean?” asked Lincoln.                “I mean, that if you do not act immediately, the sentence will be carried out before executive clemency can reach the condemned. An orderly just galloped away from this building toward Fort de Russy, the execution site.  He carried with him the few lines Mr. Stanton wrote while the woman was appealing to you.”           “Well, I'm damned,” said the President, growing taller and his eyes commencing to beam with an expression that everyone knew meant business.           In a few long strides the President stepped into the telegraphic office of the War Department and said to the head clerk, “Call up Fort de Russey at once.”           “I can't, Sir. The wire is in current use, Mr. President, on very important orders to the Sixth Corps,” he replied.           “Hold the dispatch!”            “Mr. President. It has Mr. Stanton's personal orders that it be put through immediately.”           “Stop the dispatch!  I direct it!”           It was done instantly.           “Now!” the president commanded. “Telegraph the Provost Marshal in charge of Pvt. Charles Putnam of the seventh Vermont, sentenced to execution today. Inform him, under the direct, personal command of the President of the United States, to disregard all other orders and bring the prisoner to the War Department immediately. Inform him that this dispatch is given to you directly, by Abraham Lincoln in person, and get his acknowledgment by telegraph of the receipt of this order. I will wait here until I receive your statement that the answer is received.”           Five minutes later, the wire came acknowledging the order and stating that the prisoner would be brought to the War Department forthwith. We returned to Stanton's private office, where we found the hopelessly despairing woman pleading with the inflexible, draconian Secretary of War.           “You have concluded of course, Stanton to at least postpone the execution of this man until you can make further investigations?” Lincoln observed, judiciously.           “On the contrary, Mr. President,” replied Stanton. “In order to avoid discussion of this matter, you having promised me yourself, in such cases to withhold the pardoning power and leave it entirely in my hands, I have already taken such steps that discussion is ...            “Discussion is never useless as long as a man is alive,” Lincoln interrupted sharply,           “You intend to pardon my son, Mr. President!” screamed the woman.           “If what you have said to me is substantially true, I do, Madame.”            “God forever bless you!” she exclaimed.           “Now, my good woman,” he said calmly, “I will listen to the details of your story.”            Half sobbing, yet with a glimmer of hope in her eyes, she said her sons, inspired by her own words and notwithstanding that their father was dead, had one by one gone to the front and lost their lives. Charlie, the last one alive, the son of her old age, after reenlisting, gave his entire bounty to her, for her support in case he didn't return from battle, He had spent his furlough with her in the old farm in Stowe Vermont.           “Such a happy month. But Mr. President, there he met a girl that he took to powerfully, and she, this fool girl who has brought him death, loved him like an idiot. He returned and fought at the battle of Fort Stevens. They say you were there, Mr. President.  You saw my son fight. You saw the 6th Corp drive the rebels out of Maryland and run them back into Virginia and save this capital.           “My boy was wounded in the battle,” she continued, her tearful eyes filling with more hope. “Have my boy brought here and I will show you the unhealed wound upon his arm. The records will prove that he risked his life for the union not a week ago. “Then that fool country girl came trolloping down to Washington and beguiled him. Charlie couldn't get leave to come to see her.  So, fool that he was and cajoled by her pleadings, he left the fort to have a day of bliss with her and he was soon captured by the Secret Service without a pass. I was telegraphed and came and found him sentenced to death. Yesterday, I saw him and he gave me his word of honor that he had not intended to desert. He was about to return to the fort on the very day he was seized.            “My son has never lied to me in his life, Mr. Stanton.  He is no bounty jumper. If so, I would say execute him. Though I bore him, he is not my son. But he is, and has been true to his country. And he's the only one left to me.”           Stanton just stared at her blankly, knowing he had already sealed the boy's fate. Suddenly I heard the clack of a military escort in the hall. A moment later Madison entered with a curious grin on his face and declared, “The Provost Marshal from Fort de Russey - with a prisoner!”           “What? Impossible!” exclaimed Stanton, springing up astounded.           Covered with dust from the ride, a cavalry captain entered. Saluting the shocked secretary, he reported, “I have the president's direct personal order to present to him in your office, the prisoner condemned to execution today, private Charles Allen Putnam of the seventh Vermont.” With this, four troopers brought in the manacled prisoner, a young Vermont giant, with a haggard face, fair-haired and gray eyed, like his mother. In a daze, he looked around the office.           “Mother!” the boy gasped.           “My son!” the woman screamed and took him in her arms.           Then she tore the blue sleeve from his arm to show the awful wound inflicted by a Confederate bullet.           “See, Mr. Stanton, “this is proof that he risked his life for his country. I have a certificate from all his officers stating that he did his duty gallantly. And I have the affidavit of the girl that he told her he must leave her to return to command. He has been returned to my arms. You cannot take him from me to murder him!”           Stanton stared at her dumbstruck. Through all this, the President had been hastily writing. In another moment, he stood up and handed her a slip of paper. “The free pardon of your son,” he said, simply.             Stanton turned to the captain. “You received my clear command earlier today?” he asked sharply.             “Yes Sir, I did,” he replied. “But it was superseded by the direct order of the President of the United States, making it the highest military priority. It stayed the execution and ordered the prisoner to be brought here.”           “Stanton, that's where I had a little joke on you,” chuckled the President. “You're not up to the modern telegraph, Mr. Secretary.  Electricity beats horse flesh!”             Mr. Lincoln then turned to the Private and said, “Young man, your sentence to death by court martial acts as a discharge from the army of the United States. My pardon has made it an honorable discharge. Go home and support and cherish your noble mother, who has given you a second life.”           Tears welled up in the deep-set eyes of the backwoods President as the mother, speechless and half-fainting, was escorted out by her freed son, whose manacles had been removed.            Mr. President,” said the Secretary. “This action of yours will produce 1,000 deserters in the Army of the Potomac.”           “I don't care if it does,” replied Lincoln. “It has made one less broken heart in this country. Perhaps two. The fool girl who lured that young fellow away from his duty loves him also.” Then the President sighed, “Oh, if I could send all my boys in blue home to their mothers. Yes, and all the Johnnies, too.”           Suddenly, his voice grew commanding. “We'll discuss the details of the reinforcements to be sent to Grant this afternoon,” he said, looking the Secretary in the eye. Then added curtly, “Good-bye, Mr. Stanton.”           When we were outside, the President remarked, “I had a pretty hard time in there didn't I? Stanton makes a bully good Secretary of War. The only trouble with him is he shows no more caring for the boys than an alligator who buries a pile of eggs in the sand and thinks he's done with his duties to his family.”           Later on, I was told that as the Vermont mother left the building with her son, overcome with emotion, she was heard to say, “Everybody always talks about how ugly the President is. But I think he has the most beautiful face I've ever seen.”           Well, that's the end of the stenographer's tale. I could probably write ten pages about what I've learned from it, but the story truly speaks for itself. And this is the end of this episode. As always, keep your eyes, mind, and heart opened, and let's get together in the next one.

durée : 00:02:48 - Circuit court France Bleu Besançon - par : Dominique Parreaux - Jardinier-maraîcher biologique à Saint-Julien-lès-Russey (25), installé depuis avril 2018, Fabrice travaille exclusivement à la main dans son potager situé à 930m d'altitude. Ce qui ne l'empêche pas de "faire pousser tout ce qui veut bien pousser", puis de tout vendre directement au potager !

Cam's got a story to tell, MJ is MJ all the time, Doc is a rat. Plus, Russey goin' back... The post 581: Corporate Snitchin' first appeared on The Doctor AbrACEive Network.

An interview with Nancy Russey from Care Prayer Restoration Ministries. What does it look like when Jesus heals your heart from unforgiveness and bitterness? Listen in and find out...

An interview with Nancy Russey from Care Prayer Restoration Ministries. What does it look like when Jesus heals your heart from unforgiveness and bitterness? Listen in and find out...

An interview with Nancy Russey from Care Prayer Restoration Ministries. What does it look like when Jesus heals your heart from unforgiveness and bitterness? Listen in and find out...

Reed and Russey discuss their time with the Xbox Gold game, Victor Vran.

Reed and Russey explore the games they used to play as kids, and how that has shaped them into adulthood. Plus they react to the new trademark that could be the new name for the Pokémon game.

Episode 39 is now available and this week Reed and Russey are discussing all things backloggy! Learn how to start a backlog, what games to have in a backlog and much, much more! Download today!

In today’s episode, we get to hear from Sarah Chhin, who works with children though Cambodia Action and M’lup Russey. She has worked extensively in Cambodia, especially with children phasing out of residential care. For full show notes, please visit www.thinkorphan.com

UNM Live’s Benson Hendrix recently sat down with UNM Parking officer Herron Joe Russey to discuss Russey’s life in the media before he arrived at UNM.