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Invasive plant protects Australian lizards from invasive toad
An invasive plant may have saved an iconic Australian lizard species from death at the hands of toxic cane toads, according to research published in the March issue of The American Naturalist. It's an interesting case of one invasive species preparing local predators for the arrival of another, says Richard Shine, a biologist at the University of Sydney who led the research.
Cane toads were introduced in Australia in the 1930s to control beetles that destroy sugar cane crops, but the toads quickly became an ecological disaster of their own. They produce toxins called bufadienolides, which have proven deadly to many native Australian species that feed on frogs and toads.
Bluetongue lizards are one of the vulnerable species, and their numbers began to shrink significantly after the toads arrived in northern Australia. But there's reason to believe that bluetongue populations elsewhere Australia will fare better as the toads spread across the continent.
"Our study was stimulated by a puzzling observation that arose during research on the ecological impacts of invasive cane toads in Australia," Shine and his colleagues write. "Some lizard populations were vulnerable to bufotoxins whereas others were notand the populations with high tolerance to bufotoxins included some that had never been exposed to toads."
Why would these populations have evolved a tolerance to the toad toxin when no toads were present?
The answer, according to Shine and his colleagues, is likely an invasive plant species known as mother-of-millions, which happens to produce a toxin that's virtually identical to that of the cane toad. After it was imported from Madagascar as a decorative plant some 70 years ago, mother-of-millions has since run amok in parts of Queensland and New South Whales and become part of the diet for local bluetongues.
Shine and his colleagues collected bluetongues from places with and without mother-of-millions, and injected each of them with a tiny amount of cane toad toxin. They found that toads from places where mother-of-millions is common had less of a reaction than those from places where it was absent. The results suggest that the plant drove strong selection for lizards that could tolerate bufotoxinsa remarkable example of evolution over a relatively short period of some 20 to 40 generations of lizards.
"Now it appears we have a population of eastern bluetongue lizards that are able to defend themselves well against cane toadseven though they've never actually met onewhereas the devastation of the cane toads on the northwestern lizard population continues," Shine said. "Eating this plant has pre-adapted the eastern blueys against cane toad poisons."
The Australian government has spent millions trying to deal with the toads and mitigate their ecological impact, but Shine's work suggests the eastern bluetongues might not need much help.
"We're now able to focus our conservation dollars on those populations that can't care for themselves," he said.
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The following is from a story written for the Monroe, Maine town archives describing the Monroe Cheese Factory, which operated for at least 50 years in the center of Monroe, near the falls, until 1936. It includes a description of a very particular product — Skipper Cheese — that they specialized in “before the days of food laws.”
You may remember the “Good Old Days” when you could walk into any grocery store around [Maine] and order a slab of Monroe cheese.
Though the age of automation has brought to humanity untold comfort and pleasure, the days of horses and hard hand work had their compensations. Monroe cheese was one of them.
Like the nine mills that once flanked Monroe Stream, the cheese factory was of an era that saw Monroe become a prosperous center of activity. It was the age when people worked from dawn to dusk, wood was sawed by hand, and a farmer milked by hand and drove the milk by horse team to market.
Marshall Rand depended upon the farmers’ delivery of milk for his cheese. His son Earl worked at times with his father but old Mr. Rand “did the work of two or three men by himself.”
Mr. Rand had learned the process from Charles Johnson, and Earl Rand remembers that there were at least two men there before Johnson, a Mr. Colson, and a Mr. Taylor.
Earl Rand, who lives today beside the weathered building that saw its final production of cheese in about 1936, is the last to remember the process from making the once nationally famous cheese.
Roughly following the preliminary weigh-in each morning the whole milk was run into a steam vat and the temperature was kept at 70 degrees [Fahrenheit]. Curd formed on top and was eliminated. Constant stirring with wooden rakes was necessary, with the temperature raised to 110 degrees by steam. Salting and pressing followed. Butter fat was not over 3.7 percent for the full-fat cheese.
There were two cutters, two-feet long and one-foot wide. One cutter, with eight knives, went lengthwise of the vat, cubing the cheese.
After the cheese was salted and pressed, the blocks were turned onto a table to dry, having to be turned often.
They were sealed by being dropped into a paraffin tank heated to some 400 degrees. Every day Rand put out 28 cheeses weighing 25 pounds each. Individual taste dictated the aging period.
“For a mild cheese we would age it for less time, maybe a month or so. For a stronger cheese, from six months to a year,” Rand said. “We never sent out a cheese that was aged less than two weeks.”
For variety, some cheese had sage added. And there there was a special type of cheese.
“Before the days of food laws,” Rand related, ” we sold a large amount of what we called skipper cheese. After the food laws were passed which banned this cheese, we had to take back a couple of blocks of it. We had it out back, and I was going to bury it when I found the time. A man from New York, who happened to come into the factory that day asked me, ‘I don’t suppose you have any of that skipper cheese?'”
“When I told him that I did have some but wasn’t allowed to sell it any more, he wanted to see it.”
At this point it might be pertinent to describe skipper cheese. The protective wax coating on a block of cheese was cut in places, and the cheese was set by an open window. Blow flies would collect and lay their eggs in the cheese. Then maggots emerged and spread throughout the block. This process took about two months. Obviously, the longer the cheese sat in this condition, the more ‘lively’ it became.
The blocks to which Mr. Rand was to bury were about a year old. The customer in question asked for a knife, and when the seething delicacy was cut he proceeded to eat some.
“He must have eaten a quarter of a pound of it,” Rand said. “Then he asked if there was any law that said we couldn’t give it to him. I said ‘not that I knew of’ and he took the whole block.”
Earl Rand made the last cheeses that would be produced in the old Factory. “I made two five-pound cheese blocks,” he recalled. “One was plain, and the other was sage. We set them out in the shed and it was a whole year before we touched a knife to them. You never tasted such good cheese.”
Why did the factory close, leaving the building to crumble through the years of inactivity and neglect?
Stringent laws regarding the handling of milk figured into the situation, stifling the small farmer. One either had to invest heavily for better barn conditions, expensive equipment, and milk houses, or one had to do as many did — give up. Today most of the big herds which once added to the prosperity of Monroe are gone. And as the way of the ploggin’, struggling farmer has disappeared, so, too, has the precise, ever toiling, patient processor of Monroe cheese.
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Caricaturist Al Hirschfeld, who used to create thoroughly engaging drawings representative of scenes from plays for The New York Times worked up a series of satirical illustrations under the collective title Unlikely Casting. He would think up an extremely familiar role from a play, such as Lady Macbeth, and then draw someone who would never on earth be associated with that role. (In the case of Lady Macbeth, he drew Carol Channing.) Such couplings that do not quite work make for some very funny comedy; but, when comedy is not intended, the pairing is likely to be little other than awkward.
That may well be the case for the coupling planned for this week’s series of concerts by the San Francisco Symphony (SFS), led by Music Director Michael Tilson Thomas (MTT), at Davies Symphony Hall. The first half of the program was devoted to Charles Ives’ fourth symphony, and the intermission was followed by Ludwig van Beethoven’s Opus 61 violin concerto in D major with Pinchas Zukerman as soloist. One wonders what Ives himself would have thought of the coupling. According to Charles Ives and His Music, by Henry and Sidney Cowell, Ives seems to have had respect for Beethoven but, as the Cowell’s put it “found other people’s music interfered with the music of his own that he was always carrying around in his head.” This afternoon’s performance seems to have suggested that interference could be a two-way street.
During MTT’s tenure with SFS, Davies has been an excellent place to get to know Ives’ music. There have been a generous number of opportunities to listen to performances, many of which have been framed by some very highly informed pre-concert introductions. MTT has been directly involved with most, but not all, of those performances. This was all to the advantage of today’s offering.
Ives seems to have begun work on his fourth symphony in 1916 but did not complete the final revisions until 1924. By that time, almost all of Ives’ work had been completed, if not published, although Ives would live until May 19, 1954. Ives probably did not intend his fourth symphony to be a summa of his all of his past experiences as a music-maker; but it would not hurt to regard the piece that way.
Prior to performing the symphony this afternoon, MTT talked about the influences of hymn tunes and then led the SFS Chorus in a performance of six of those hymns with organ accompaniment. However, that is just the tip of the iceberg of influences that one encounters in the symphony’s score. For example, it would probably be an exaggeration to say that all of the 114 songs that Ives published in 1922 can be found somewhere in the fourth symphony; but, even if that assertion is not strictly true, it does not take much of a stretch to believe it. Far more explicit is the almost note-for-note reproduction of the fugue from Ives’ first string quartet in the symphony’s third movement (even if the quartet never allows “Joy to the World” to intrude).
The New York Times comes to mind again. There used to be billboard advertisements of the Sunday edition with the slogan, “You don’t have to read it all, but it’s good to know it’s all there.” My guess is that even those who pore over every mark on the pages of the published score of Ives’ fourth symphony may never know how much is really “all there.” Ives’ packed so much into this piece, particularly in its second movement (which he labeled “Comedy”), that it is almost impossible to establish what would constitute a satisfactory performance.
Nevertheless, through making some very judicious decisions about where to place the players (not all of whom were visible), drawing upon the assistance of Resident Conductor Christian Reif to keep the most complex polyrhythms under control, and the decision to situate Peter Dugan as if he were a piano concerto soloist, MTT did about as good a job as could be expected in giving an accessible account of Ives’ complexity, outrageous dissonances and obstreperous intrusions and all. The only source of confusion was the program listing of Crystal Soo Jeong Kim (a member of the SFS Chorus) as soprano soloist. If there was a solo voice in any range within all that complexity, it managed to elude my attention.
In a way I regret that my schedule would not allow me to attend all three performances of this symphony. My guess is that I would have heard different things on each of the three occasions. I make this claim on the basis of the fact that I am familiar with three different recordings of the piece, an experience base that at least allowed me to negotiate the overall “geography” of the composition. However, the devilish fun is in the details; and I would almost expect that every performance brings out its own individual preferences for details, even when those performances are by the same ensemble with the same conductor. After all, who wants to listen to a performance that just sounds like a recording?
Given the nature of such a listening experience, it should be no surprise that, even with the benefit of an intermission, the spirit of Ives was still reverberating in my cerebral cortex when Zukerman took the stage to play the Beethoven concerto. Was his approach to the first movement really as peremptory as it felt while I was listening, or was I being distracted by Ives’ dispensation to mock all composers of the past? Most likely it was a combination of those two alternatives, since it certainly seemed as if much of Zukerman’s solo work was more business-as-usual than it was music-in-the-immediate-moment. For his part MTT certainly kept the ensemble well balanced at a pace that only on a few occasions left one wondering if things were going on for too long.
Perhaps the only really satisfying thing one can do after having performed the Ives fourth is to play it again after the intermission.
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Unfortunately for Aiden, Tom’s front door was insanely creaky. With his sneak-out cover probably blown to a waking Tom, Aiden ran down the stairs of the building and sharply took the first turn he could to get off the street. The last thing Aiden wanted today was to talk about his feelings after what was supposed to be a healthy hook-up. He didn’t even want to think about it himself.
A vibration in his pocket. A text from Tom: Where you off to so early, my god…”
Ignoring it, Aiden stopped in a coffee shop. He stared at the relatively bougie menu (see: the herb-crusted egg and salmon croissant sandwich) for a time before ultimately choosing a protein-laced breakfast smoothie. Once the elderly barista handed him his order, he stepped outside and continued to shift down the street.
Aiden turned corner after corner, meandering through the streets of the city without any perception of where his feet were gliding. Halloween was nowhere in sight, but the nine-year-old boy who once terribly dressed as a ghost for the holiday was now actually a ghost. Not a thought flickered in his mind as he breathed in the bay air. Aiden was determined to flush out anything in his mind that had to do with himself. All that needed to remain were the simple functions of ordering food, swiping a credit card, and eating said food.
Another vibration, another text: You know I’m going to send a search party of gays if you don’t text me back. Inefficient plan but highly amusing.
He decided it was better to turn his phone off. Trying not to be insane and melodramatic, he could still only believe that if Tom really wanted to get in touch with him, he would try calling instead of simply texting. Too bad that his friend would realize it too late.
Two hours of walking and sitting in various places around the city, Aiden came upon Pier 15. Home of the Exploratorium. As a child, Aiden loved museums where everything was interactive, everything was touchable, and everyone was exploring. He realized that growing older had made everything less interactive and more solitary. Not everything was worth touching. Not everyone wanted to explore the world, or at least had the capacity to.
Aiden took a seat on a bench outside the museum and took stock of the crowd around him. The world may have five oceans, but the entire planet was a sea of people swarming its circumference day in and day out. All together at once, yet simultaneously all alone in their own trials and tribulations.
I’m pathetic, he thought. Here he was, fresh off of getting laid, living in a brand new city, loved by his friends and his sister (sometimes appreciated by his parents), and alive when he shouldn’t be, yet he was too busy moping about how miserable and lonely he felt despite it all. He couldn’t win. The lonely was always there no matter what.
However Aiden knew that was the point, taking a big sigh as he watched a young Indian woman walk by with a protective surgical mask covering her face. She violently coughed into it, as if it was some higher power’s way of reminding Aiden that he, too, was sick. Not necessarily physically or mentally sick; it was emotional. It was something he had to explore himself. Only he could find his way out.
With that, he reached for his wallet and sought for the Exploratorium, in hopes of finding inspiration despite a relatively overpriced ticket.
Three hours of mingling among the museum’s children later, Aiden emerged from the building having forgotten he turned his phone off. He could barely remember life before cell phones, but the past few hours made him wonder if the world would be a better place if everyone took themselves off the grid for a period of time to actually experience the world.
Aiden walked away from Pier 15, a brisk air flowing around him and a half smile on his face. His first smile of the day.
See? I can be okay by myself.
As he kept sauntering and closing his mind to his worries, his eyes caught sight of a tower in the distance. Intrigued, he changed direction and began to make his way.
Maybe this was the way to overcome his loneliness – by accepting it. Accepting that he was meant to be alone. Loads of people lived alone, technically. Nuns. Monks. Some priests… Aiden rolled his eyes. I guess the only way is to pick up a religion and run with it.
But wasn’t that a selfish life to live? Closing himself off to a point where no one else mattered but himself?
Aiden didn’t want to disappoint or upset anyone, but maybe that was his price to pay for letting his younger self get to such a dark place. Maybe loneliness was his punishment for his selfishness in trying to take his own life.
Maybe he could convince himself that a planet full of people could suffice as his extended family, and he himself could be his only close family.
The art deco tower grew closer and taller in vision as Aiden realized Fran would probably push him from the top of said tower if he ever completely disappeared. If there was anyone who would get revenge on someone who simply wanted to make her life better, it was Fran. Determined to a T.
He realized he was unsuccessfully numbing his thoughts by running in circles inside his head, deciding for the remainder of his walk to the tower to instead hum an early 2000’s Snow Patrol song. Busy himself.
The Coit Tower was known for it’s three hundred and sixty degree view of San Francisco, notably beautiful on those bright and sunny days the city was surprisingly currently having. Aiden wanted to see the city for what it truly was, so he began to climb the tourist-prone stairs that would lead him to the top.
As a writer-on-hiatus, Aiden was embarrassed at how easily the view took his breath away. Maybe it was induced by the serenity he was attempting to invoke in his being, but seeing the blue horizon mesh with the lush greens and stark grays of the Bay Area’s dual nature/urban aesthetic was truly a sight to behold.
Aiden spun around to find he wasn’t the only one taking in the tall views. There, on the railing, was a man, roughly his own age with an insane head of shiny, prestine, chocolate hair and an Adam’s apple that could feed the world. No, he wasn’t standing behind the railing as good citizens do. He was on it.
He walked in on a man about to jump.
What the fuck was it about Aiden that led him to end up in the presence of every suicidal person on the west coast? This was probably why he was supposed to be lonely the rest of his life: So he could still empathize with all those about to die and make them feel at ease, possibly saving their lives.
I’m not a fucking savior. Jesus Christ, why is this happening to me?
“Guess it’s not so amazing,” the man said.
Aiden breathed through his nose. “Are you okay?”
“A long time ago.”
Aiden took a step towards him. “I can relate, dude.”
The man turned away to stare out at the city streets below. “Nah, you probably can’t. Most people can’t. But it’s okay. That’s how life works, you know? Always figuring the shit out for yourself.”
Aiden blinked. “I can relate, dude.”
“You here for the view too?”
“Aren’t we all.”
A crow hopped over to squawk in the conversation, but the man waved it off.
“Just not today,” Aiden added.
“Tried years ago. Shit’s exhausting.” He turned about face and went to a different ledge to look out elsewhere. He had no idea if the man was continuing to move closer to the edge. Aiden hoped he wasn’t but wasn’t too hopeful he had it in him to stop what might be the inevitable.
Silence from him. Aiden quickly glanced back, suddenly praying with all his might that his new acquaintance didn’t complete his mission.
But there he was, now off the railing. Leaning against it, rather, staring directly at Aiden. Simultaneously saddened and piercingly interested.
“Hi,” he murmured. “Name’s Lyle.”
Lyle extended his hand. Aiden walked across the tower to accept the shake, clocking the man. Despite his aggressively molded hair, Lyle seemed disheveled and rather nervous. That, coupled with his crooked jawline and crinkled eyes, put him on an temporary do-not-cross list. If he learned anything from last night, now was not the time to be making new male “friends.”
“Probably inappropriate to say,” Lyle continued, “but it’s nice to meet you.”
“is it?” Aiden raised an eyebrow.
Lyle slid his back down the wall to sit on the ground of the filthy concrete floor. Aiden turned his back to Lyle as a couple of people made their way to the top as well. To the casual passerby, Aiden was intent on taking in the sight. Instead, Aiden was desperately trying to find a way out of his situation. He should have just left with the tourists when he had the chance, but they came and went as Aiden uncontrollably found himself planted in place.
Private party for two again. “Well…?” Aiden wondered aloud.
His new partner in self-crime looked at him in surprise at the continued engagement. “Well what?”
Aiden nodded his head in the general direction of the tower railing.
Lyle sighed. “I’ve got no one.”
“Technically we only have ourselves, always.”
“No. Physically no one. No family. No friends. No ties to anywhere. I’m an actual fucking ghost among the living and I can’t take it anymore!” His voice was rising with an undercurrent of extreme duress. Aiden recognized this was Lyle’s precipice. He could fall over either side of his mental cliff at any moment. Every word Aiden said was crucial and possibly misconstrued in Lyle’s mind.
“Technically, I’m your friend now that you caught me up here.”
Lyle blinked slowly. “Don’t think that’s how it works.”
“Friend is an arbitrary word. It can work however you want it to.”
“Bullshit and you know it.”
Aiden forced a laugh, despite that noise being the last he wanted to make in this circumstance. “We’re friends because you noticed my bullshit.”
Lyle inadvertently cracked a crooked smile but hid it as he caught himself.
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“Because then I’ll talk you out of it?
Aiden shuffled his feet for a moment before subtly rolling his eyes and sitting next to Lyle.
“I don’t think we should talk up here anymore.”
He noticed an ever-so-slight nod of agreement from Lyle. Aiden stood (annoyed that he had just sat down) and offered to help up his new friend. Lyle accepted the gesture, and they began their silent descent from the top of the world.
Finally, with the click of the Starbucks’ bathroom door, one fucking moment alone.
Aiden had told Lyle he hadn’t peed all day and was thus about to combust, giving him at least five minutes of peace. He realized no matter how hard he tried to seclude himself and be on his own, the world was always going to find some fucker to throw in his path. Lyle equaled his current fucker, and not in the sexually gratifying way.
With that understood, he pulled out his phone to turn it on. Immediately, notifications for five missed calls from Tom and eight from Fran appeared. Voicemail galore.
“Jesus,” he muttered as he dialed his sister. “Can a bitch just live his life…”
And then – “Aiden! My god, where the fuck have you been?”
“Busy, sorry, are you okay? Is Chase okay?”
A silence. A different kind of silence from his sister.
His eyes began to tear up out of habit. He wasn’t ever going to be alone after what came next; he was almost positive.
“I’m so sorry, Aid. Dad died in a car accident last night.”
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When you begin researching the development of early microphones and audio electronics, it becomes apparent that much of the pioneering work was done for the telephone and radio industries rather than for recording studios and musicians. Newspapers and magazines would print schematics for electronics enthusiasts, who would then build radios and so forth at home. Many gained a good grounding in practical electronics, went on to study the subject in greater depth, and later discovered that the general principles could be applied elsewhere.
This was certainly the path followed by the legendary Seth Lover. Seth grew up with his grandparents in Kalamazoo, Michigan, and showed an early aptitude for electronics. Encouraged by one of his teachers, he even built his own valve radio when he was barely a teenager. Lover’s grandparents died before his 20th birthday, and after a succession of jobs, he joined Battery C of the 16th Field Artillery, Grey Horse Battery of the US Army.
There, he gained more electronics experience and when he left the army, he signed up for a radio-electronics course. By the early 1930s, he was running a radio repair shop in Kalamazoo. One of his customers was an orchestra leader called Eddy Smith, who asked Seth to build some amplifiers so that quieter instruments, including the guitar, could be heard over the piano and drums.
Given his location, it didn’t take long for Seth to become involved with the town’s most prominent resident, Gibson. His first involvement came in 1941, when engineer Walt Fuller gave him a full-time job. At the time, Gibson was buying in amps such as the EH-125, 150 and 185 from a company based in Chicago and Seth’s job was to plug in the valves, test the amps and troubleshoot the faulty ones before Gibson shipped them out to dealers.
In the navy
The Gibson gig didn’t last long, because Seth rejoined the army for World War II. There, he received more electronics training and he spent most of the war teaching electronics, until he was transferred to the US Navy. After the war, he returned to Gibson for a couple of years. He began working on amplifiers there, eventually designing the GA-50 model and an optical tremolo that eliminated the ‘phutting’ noise typical of trem circuits during that era. Seth was tempted back into the Navy by an offer of $5,000 per annum – $2,000 more than Gibson was paying him – but Gibson carried on making his tremolo.
Eventually, Gibson president Ted McCarty asked Seth to design a special pickup to keep Les Paul happy. The Alnico V unit became known as the ‘Staple’ pickup and was used in the flagship Les Paul Custom and some of Gibson’s top jazz models. It was enough to convince Gibson that they could match his Navy salary and in 1952, Seth was back on board at Kalamazoo.
Bucking the trend
By the early 50s, the novelty of electric instruments had passed and guitarists were complaining about single-coil pickup hum. There appears to have been a widespread awareness of the problem and Seth told Tony Bacon that although Ted McCarty had requested a new pickup, the ‘humbucking’ idea was something he came up with independently of McCarty and Walt Fuller, who had designed the P-90 and was now Gibson’s chief engineer.
Seth’s idea came from a humbucking choke that he had used in the GA-90 amplifier he’d designed in the early 50s. He had adapted a well-known electronic-engineering principle to eliminate hum ‘pick up’ from the power transformer; and Seth figured that a pickup made with two coils would eliminate hum in the same way.
He had a working model by 1955, with an undrilled cover and flat slugs, but Seth was persuaded to incorporate adjustable pole pieces on one coil simply to give Gibson’s sales guys something more to talk about. Seth later maintained they were technically unnecessary, and that he configured them with the neck slugs facing the fingerboard and the bridge slugs facing the bridge purely for decorative reasons.
The pickup in question became known as the ‘PAF’, and those produced between 1957 and 1961 are the most valuable and sought-after pickups on the vintage market. They’re also the most mythologised and copied – largely unsuccessfully – and they changed the sound of guitar music forever.
Seth also designed various offshoots of the PAF, including a downsized PAF called the mini-humbucker and a version with offset, three-per-side, adjustable polepieces for Epiphone guitars called the P-19. Like the P-90’s predecessor, the P-13, Gibson sold P-19 mini humbuckers to other manufacturers and they can be found on Silvertone guitars. Seth admitted they weren’t as loud and sounded a bit trebly, but that they “did the job”.
Although he would frequently joke about it in interviews, it does appear that Seth never felt Gibson paid him what he was worth. As if creating the PAF wasn’t enough, Seth played a major part in designing most Gibson amps from 1952 until 1967, he devised the Maestro Fuzz-Tone and designed a bunch of lesser-known pickups and gadgets for basses and steel guitars. Seth even claimed to have come up with the initial ideas for the Flying V and Explorer, but no doubt Ted McCarty would have disputed that.
In 1967, a call came from his friend Dick Evans. He had worked for Gibson, but by that time, Evans was chief engineer at the company’s main rival, Fender. Seth flew out for talks and was offered a job at $12,000 per year – which was $3,000 more than he was getting at Gibson. Seth took the job and moved to California with his wife, Lavone. Naturally, he met Leo Fender but, as he told Tony Bacon: “He never did talk to me too much. We never got along too well – he never came over to visit, or anything like that”.
Perhaps Leo viewed the Gibson man as an interloper, or regarded him as unwanted competition. He would also have been aware that the CBS guys wanted Seth to make them a humbucker that sounded like Gibson’s, and it seems unlikely Leo would have approved. On that, he and Seth were in agreement. Seth felt that Fender guitars were all about brighter sounds, so he set about designing a new humbucking pickup that would retain much of the Fender tone.
The high cost of alnico magnets had prompted him to investigate alternative magnets and although he had used ceramic, this time Seth chose cunife – an alloy of copper, nickel and iron. The main reason for this was that the new design didn’t have a magnet under the coils, so the pole pieces had to be permanent magnets – just like the slugs in classic Fender single coils. Since cunife can be threaded, it was possible to make PAF-style screws out of it.
Seth revisited the offset screw arrangement of the Epiphone P-19 mini humbucker, but this time, the pickup ended up with an even bigger footprint than a regular PAF. Known as the Wide Range humbucking pickup, Fender’s new design found its way onto models such as the Starcaster, Telecaster Deluxe, Telecaster Thinline and Telecaster Custom.
It was a great start – but thereafter, Seth’s impact at Fender appears to have been fairly minimal. He revisited the effects thing, creating a ‘special effects’ guitar with onboard frequency doubler, auto-wah and fuzztone, but it never went into production. It seems he also spent some time trying to troubleshoot Fender’s foray into solid-state amplifiers. Seth identified mechanical failings, as well as substandard connections due to poor soldering-iron maintenance, as the causes behind the amp’s unreliability. He reported this to management, but nobody was listening. In 1975, Seth reached retirement age and he was obliged to leave Fender.
Seth’s retirement didn’t last long, and he soon teamed up with Seymour Duncan. Duncan had been around long enough to realise that the 1970s hot-humbucker craze would eventually pass and that there was something very special about the original PAFs. He wanted to know how to make them properly. Thanks to the internet, many of us can now reel off a list of the parts, materials and manufacturing quirks that characterise vintage PAFs, but that wasn’t a possibility for Duncan. However, with the PAF inventor himself living just three hours’ drive away, Duncan had a much better option open to him.
Seth and Seymour Duncan embarked on a working relationship that would last almost 20 years. During that time, the pair created the Seth Lover humbucker model, every one of which is reputedly wound on Seth’s personal Leesona coil-winding machine. The Seth Lover Model is also the basis for Duncan’s excellent Antiquity PAF and Duncan came to refer to Seth as his “humbucker mentor”.
It may have come in his 80s, but thanks to Seymour Duncan adverts, interviews and trade-show appearances, Seth finally got the recognition he deserved. He died in 1997 after a short illness, survived by his wife, two sons and three grandchildren.
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The white, furry beast trudged through the forest, ahead of myself, who from time to time stopped to take in the icy scenery. The cold was bitter, to be sure, but it had not fully frozen the streams and ravines, so that their crystalline water sparkled as it flowed beneath imperceptible layers of ice, roaring gently, like a small sleeping animal. The rest of the forest, which in summer-time engulfed these sparkling waters with thick and lustrous flora, seemed to have a surreal, almost fairy-tale-like look to it in the winter, with icicles stretching from the tip of naked tree branches covered only by a white blanket of snow that sparkled as radiantly as the water; the slightly mountainous terrain gave the entire trip the air of a quest, as we trudged and climbed and even crawled at times; in the sun-light, which peered intermittently through the opened branches of the tallest eucalyptus trees, the entire thing felt enchanted behind an azure hue, though at night and against the bitter cold, the darkness behind the trees felt macabre, and you could almost hear whispers emanating from within the nothingness that seemed to lurk in there. But at this time we were safe, and practically felt serenaded by a concert only orchestrated for our quest – a mixture of nature sounds that seemed to still break through the bitter and lonesome winter cold in the humming of the waters, the guttural hollowing of the air and the rest of the subtle background full of hidden chitters and snapping twigs. But there was not much time to stay still, for my furry companion was still young and impatient, and he demanded that we carry on. Plus, remaining for too long in the same spot was an easy reminder to the bones of how cold it was outside, despite the breath-taking scenery.
However, despite moving quite quickly, by the time we arrived at the peak of the forest, where the little furry beast knew we’d set up camp, the sun was already slowly disappearing behind the trees at the western end, illuminating the sky above them a fiery purple and orange colour, which made it feel as if we were being set on fire. My wolf-like companion, full of energy and completely equipped to not only stand the winter cold but, indeed, to thrive in it, ran around frantically, barking and howling in a seemingly uncontrolled but elated fit. When I finished setting up camp, we played together, fighting as most brothers do – without a care in the world and full of confidence in the other. But as the night began to approach faster and faster, with darkness beginning to engulf everything like a gigantic devouring maw, we settled into our nest near the fire, and braced ourselves for the wonders and terrors that come with the night, especially under the open, vast and unforgiving winter sky. The cold was surprisingly tamed, so it was easier to stare into the nothingness without feeling assaulted at the joints. After a while, I realized I must have dozed off, or perhaps just lost myself in the night, because I suddenly became aware that the little furry beast had run off. I got up and began calling for him immediately but heard no response, so I started walking towards the thick blackness in front of me, where I was sure only trees and night critters lurked.
Nevertheless, as I approached the darkness, away from my camp-fire, I began hearing twigs snapping and a low growling that I recognized as that of my own furry friend. When I finally got near enough to make out a slight silhouette in front of me, with the aid of the beast’s white fur, I realized he was tugging at something that he held in his mouth, but which was attached firmly at the other end to something which I could not make out. I called out to the beast but he refused to come; he simply continued tugging and growling. When I got a little closer, and aiding myself with the scant moon-light that was sheepishly peering through, I realized it was only a tree branch. Relieved that it wasn’t anything or anyone else, I let out a deep sigh and rested my back against the nearest tree, still able to witness the scene. And that was it…The only thing that happened after that was that I watched the beast tug at the branch and pull it backwards until it snapped, making such a loud “THWACK” sound that it resonated through the hollow forest like a gunshot. I felt there was something sinister about that entire scene; that I was enjoying seeing the beast tear at that poor branch for no reason at all, and that I felt somewhat disturbed at that fact.
When it was all finished, a green scab covered what was now the stub of the branch, and the beast simply ran off with the rest of it in his mouth, happily prancing back to our camp-site. I was speechless, for I felt as if I had witnessed a crime, almost enjoyed it, and had done absolutely nothing to stop the perpetrator or even help the poor victim who, I immediately began to realize, had been utterly defenceless. I approached the mangled tree slowly, almost embarrassed to be in its presence and finally placed my hand on its wounded and severed limb. I began to feel infused with something; to feel something inside of me…Emotion…Yes, that’s what it was…I began to feel emotion for this victim, and I whispered, “I’m sorry…” I don’t know why. But I felt as if I were starring into the watery eyes of a bullied victim after the fact; as if I were responsible for not having stopped the tyrant when I saw what he was doing and had the chance to do so…
I realized then that all those fears of the night which I had held onto not long before, and the images of something horrendous lurking in there, waiting to snatch my soul or my mind away, were indeed unfounded. And not because they are impossible things, for the mind is powerful and can find any horror where it faithfully seeks to find one; but because what really lurks in the night in the deepest and thickest forests and jungles and parks and backyards are only Trees: Guardians of our most precious need – oxygen – and authors of our most coveted dreams – pure and awing beauty.
As we walked back the following night, now against a slightly harsher cold, the trek suddenly felt more alive…more holistic…more serious…more solemn. And the engulfing night no longer seemed tenebrous but rather tender, like a cozy and quiet womb inviting you to rest. However, what really felt different was the way these benevolent giant creatures, who’d never dare cause harm and who never speak a word, seemed to be watching over us, painting a picture of enchantment and reality far beyond the confines of our understanding.
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Pride and Pregnancy
online casino phone app Like that will keep Tom Yellow Bird from pursuing the woman who shocked his senses at first sight. Yes, the wealthy FBI special agent's job is to work a case involving the Honorable Caroline Jennings. It is his duty to protect the beautiful judge. Yet nothing stops him from acting on the attraction between them. And once he discovers Caroline is pregnant…any good sense he's ever had completely vanishes.
top live casino online But when a secret Caroline is keeping is finally revealed, will Tom's pride become his ultimate undoing?
new slots at tulalip casino Lawyers in Love: Book 4
April 2017 from Harlequin Desire
ISBN-10: 0373838387 ♦ ISBN-13: 978-0373838387
casino slots house of funtm️ free 777 vegas games Thoughts of a Blonde: A real attention grabber! First we are hooked just from the steam the two of them let off when they first lay eyes on each other, then the danger and mystery lurking around them catches our attention again. Ideally I would have loved to have seen the pregnancy hook played out a little sooner, but overall I really enjoyed the story!
online casino germany com The Reading Room: 4.5 Stars! Strong professional characters show they are capable of leading their own lives and those of others. The well thought out story runs smoothly and is short enough that it can easily be read in an afternoon. A light romantic read to warm your heart and brighten your day.
online casino europa Sometimes, Tom Yellow Bird thought, the universe had a sense of humor.
raging bull online casino no deposit bonus codes What other explanation could there be when, the very morning he was scheduled to testify in the court of the Honorable Caroline Jennings, he had received an email from his friend James Carlson, informing him that the new judge, one Honorable Caroline Jennings, had received a suspicious bouquet of flowers and was concerned it might be connected to their ongoing investigation into judicial corruption in and around Pierre, South Dakota?
lottery games online casino It would be funny if the situation weren’t so serious, he thought as he took a seat near the back of the courtroom. This trial was for bank robbery, and Tom, operating in his capacity as an FBI agent, had tracked down the perpetrator and arrested him. The robber had had the bank bags in his trunk and marked bills in his wallet. A cut-and-dried case.
online casino mit handyrechnung bezahlen deutschland “All rise,” the bailiff intoned as the door at the back of the courtroom opened. “The court of the Eighth Judicial Circuit, criminal division, is now in session, the Honorable Caroline Jennings presiding.”
Tom had heard it all before, hundreds of times. He rose, keeping his attention focused on the figure clad in black that emerged. Another day, another judge. Hopefully she wasn’t easily bought.
“Be seated,” Judge Jennings said. The courtroom was full so it wasn’t until other people took their seats as she mounted the bench that Tom got his first good look at her.
He blinked and then blinked again. He had expected a woman—the name Caroline was a giveaway—but he hadn’t expected . He couldn’t stop staring.
She took her seat and made eye contact across the room with him, and time stopped. Everything stopped. His breath, his pulse—everything came to a screeching halt as he stared at the Honorable Caroline Jennings.
He’d never seen her before—he knew that for certain because he’d remember her. He’d remember this . Even at this distance, he thought he saw her cheeks color, a delicate blush. Did she feel it, too?
Then she arched an eyebrow in what was a clear challenge. Crap. He was still standing, gawking like an idiot, while the rest of the court waited. Leland cracked a huge smile, and the court reporter looked annoyed. The rest of the courtroom was starting to crane their necks so they could see the delay.
So he took his seat and tried to get his brain to work again. Caroline Jennings was the judge on this case and she was his assignment from Carlson—nothing more. Any attraction he might feel for her was irrelevant. He had testimony to give and a corruption case to solve, and the job always came first.
Carlson’s email had come late this morning, so Tom hadn’t had time to do his research. That was the only reason Judge Jennings had caught him off guard.
Because Judge Jennings was at least twenty years younger than he had anticipated. Everyone else who had sat on that bench had tended to be white, male and well north of fifty years old.
Maybe that was why she seemed so young, although she was no teenager. She was probably in her thirties, Tom guessed. She had light brown hair that was pulled back into a low ponytail—but it wasn’t severely scraped away from her face. Instead, her hair looked like it had a natural wave and she let it frame her features, softening the lines of her sharp cheekbones. She wore a simple pair of stud earrings—diamonds or reasonable fakes, he noticed when she turned her head and they caught the light. Her makeup was understated and professional, and she wore a lace collar on top of her black robe.
She was, he realized, . Which was an interesting observation on his part.
He had no problems noting the physical beauty of men or women. For Tom, the last ten years had been one long observation of the human condition. Looking at an attractive person was like studying fine art. Even if a woman’s physical attributes didn’t move him, he could still appreciate her beauty.
But his visceral reaction to a woman in shapeless judge’s robes was not some cerebral observation of conventional beauty. It was a punch to the gut. When was the last time he’d felt that unmistakable spark?
Well, he knew the answer to that. But he wouldn’t let thoughts of Stephanie break free of the box in which he kept them locked up tight. He wouldn’t think about it now. Maybe not ever.
He sat back and did what he did best—he watched and waited. Judge Caroline Jennings ran an efficient courtroom. When Lasky, the defense lawyer, started to grandstand, she cut him off. She wasn’t confrontational, but she wasn’t cowed by anyone.
As he waited for his name to be called, Tom mentally ran back through the email Carlson had sent him. Caroline Jennings was an outsider, appointed to fill the seat on the bench left vacant after Tom had arrested the last judge.
She was from Minneapolis—which was a hell of a long way from South Dakota. In theory, she had no connection with local politics—or lobbyists. That didn’t mean she was clean. Whoever was pulling the strings in the state would be interested in making friends with the new judge.
Once, Tom would’ve been encouraged by the fact that she had already contacted Carlson about an unusual flower delivery. Surely, the reasoning went, if she was already willing to identify such gifts as suspicious, she was an honest person.
Tom wasn’t that naive anymore. He didn’t know who was buying off judges, although he had a few guesses. He couldn’t prove his suspicions one way or the other. But he did know that whatever group—or groups—was rigging the courts in his home state, they played deep. He wouldn’t put it past anyone in this scenario to offer up a beautiful, fresh-faced young judge as a mole—or a distraction.
“The prosecution calls FBI Special Agent Thomas Yellow Bird to the stand.”
Tom snapped to attention, standing and straightening his tie. He should’ve been paying more attention to the trial at hand than musing about the new judge. The prosecutor had warned him that this particular defense lawyer liked to put members of law enforcement on the spot.
As he moved to the front of the room, he could feel Judge Jennings’s gaze upon him. He didn’t allow himself to look back. He kept his meanest gaze trained on the accused, enjoying the way the moron shrank back behind his lawyer. It didn’t matter how intriguing—yes, that was the right word. It didn’t matter how Judge Caroline Jennings was—Tom had to see justice served on the man who’d pulled a gun on a bank teller and made off with seven thousand dollars and change.
All the same, Tom wanted to look at her. Would she still have that challenge on her face? Or would he see suspicion? He was used to that. He’d been called inscrutable on more than one occasion—and that was by people who knew him. Tom had a hell of a poker face, which was an asset in his line of work. People couldn’t figure him out, and they chose to interpret their confusion as distrust.
Or would he see something else in her eyes—the same pull he’d felt when she’d walked into this courtroom? Would she still have that delicate blush?
Smith, the prosecutor, caught Tom’s eye and gave him a look. Right. Tom had a job to do before he dug into the mystery that was Caroline Jennings.
Leland swore Tom in, and he took his seat on the witness stand. Roses, he thought, not allowing himself to look in her direction. She smelled like roses, lush and in full bloom.
Smith, in a forgettable brown suit that matched his equally forgettable name, asked Tom all the usual questions—how he had been brought in on the case, where the leads had taken the investigation, how he had determined that the accused was guilty of the crime, how the arrest had gone down, what the accused had said during questioning.
It was cut-and-dried, really. He had to keep from yawning.
Satisfied, Smith said, “Your witness,” and returned to his seat.
The defense lawyer didn’t do anything for a moment. He continued to sit at his table, reviewing his notes. This was a tactic Tom had seen countless times, and he wasn’t about to let the man unnerve him. He waited. Patiently.
“Counsel, your witness,” Judge Jennings said, an edge in her voice. Tom almost smiled at that. She was not as patient as she’d seemed.
Then the defense lawyer stood. He took his time organizing his space, taking a drink—every piddling little thing a lawyer could do to stall.
“Today, Counselor,” Judge Jennings snapped.
She got a lawyer’s smile for that one before Lasky said, “Of course, Your Honor. Agent Yellow Bird, where were you on the evening of April twenty-seventh, the day you were supposedly tracing the bills stolen from the American State Bank of Pierre?”
The way he said it—drawing out the part and hitting the with extra punch—did nothing to improve Tom’s opinion of the man. If this guy was trying to make Tom’s Lakota heritage an issue, he was in for a rude awakening.
Still, Tom was under oath and he responded, “I was off duty,” in a level voice. This wasn’t his first time on the stand. He knew how this gotcha game was played, and he wasn’t going to give this jerk anything to build off.
“Doing what?” That smile again.
Tom let the question linger in the air just long enough. Smith roused out of his stunned stupor and shouted, “Objection, Your Honor! What Agent Yellow Bird does in his free time is of no importance to this court.”
The defense attorney turned his attention to the judge, that oily smile at full power. “Your Honor, I intend to show that what Agent Yellow Bird does on his own time directly compromises his ability to do his job.”
What a load of bull. That perp was guilty of robbing a bank, and his defense team was throwing everything and the kitchen sink at the prosecutor’s witnesses in an effort to throw the trial. Tom knew it, the prosecutor knew it and the defense attorney definitely knew it.
But none of that mattered. All that mattered was the opinion of Judge Caroline Jennings. She cleared her throat, which made Tom look at her. Then she leaned forward, elbows on her desk. “How so, Counselor?”
“You’re obviously building toward something. My time is valuable—as is yours, I assume. Someone’s paying the bills, right?”
It took everything Tom had not to burst out laughing at that—but he kept all facial muscles on complete lockdown.
The defense lawyer tried to smile, but Tom could tell the man was losing his grip. Clearly, he’d expected Judge Jennings to be an easy mark. “If I could ask the question, I’d be able to demonstrate—”
“Because it sounds like you’re fishing,” Judge Jennings interrupted. “What illegal activity are you going to accuse Agent Yellow Bird of?” She turned her attention to Tom and there it was again—that . “Any crimes you’d like to admit to, just to save us all the time?”
Tom notched an eyebrow at her, unable to keep his lips from twitching. “Your Honor, the only crime I’m guilty of is occasionally driving too fast.”
Something changed in her eyes—deepened. He hoped like hell it was appreciation. All he knew was that he appreciated that look. “Yes,” she murmured, her soft voice pouring oil on the fire that was racing through his body. “South Dakota seems made for speeding.”
Oh, hell, yeah—he’d like to gun his engine and let it run right about now.
She turned her attention back to the attorney. “Are you going to make the argument that violating speed limits compromises an FBI agent’s ability to investigate a crime?”
“Prostitutes!” the flustered lawyer yelled, waving a manila envelope around in the air. “He patronizes !”
An absolute hush fell over the courtroom—which was saying something, as it hadn’t been loud to begin with.
Shit. How had this slimeball found out about ?
“Your Honor!” Smith shot out of his chair, moving with more animation than Tom would have given him credit for. “That has nothing to do with a bank robbery!”
This was ridiculous, but Tom knew how this game was played. If he displayed irritation or looked nervous, it’d make him look shifty—which was exactly what the defense wanted. So he did—and said—nothing. Not a damn thing.
But his jaw flexed. He was not ashamed of his after-hours activities, but if Judge Jennings let this line of questioning go on, it could compromise some of his girls—and those girls had been compromised enough.
“That’s a serious accusation,” Judge Jennings said in a voice that was so cold it dropped the temperature in the courtroom a whole ten degrees. “I assume you have proof?”
“Proof?” the lawyer repeated and waved the manila envelope in the air. “Of course I have proof. I wouldn’t waste the court’s valuable time if I couldn’t back it up.”
“Let me see.”
The defense lawyer paused—which proved to be his undoing.
Judge Jennings narrowed her gaze and said, “Counselor Lasky, if you have evidence that Agent Yellow Bird patronizes prostitutes— that somehow compromises his ability to trace stolen bills—I’d suggest you produce it within the next five seconds or I will hold you in contempt of this court. Care to start a tab at five hundred dollars?”
Not that Tom would admit this in a court of law, but Caroline Jennings had just taken that spark of attraction and fanned it into a full-fledged flame of desire, because the woman was amazing. Simply .
Lasky only hesitated for a second before he strode forward and handed the manila envelope over to Judge Jennings. She pulled out what looked to be some grainy photos. Tom guessed they’d been pulled from a security camera, but at this angle he couldn’t see who was in the pictures or where they might have been taken.
He knew what they weren’t pictures of—him in flagrante delicto with hookers. Having dinner with hookers, maybe. He did that all the time. But last he checked, buying a girl dinner wasn’t illegal.
Even so, that the defense lawyer had the pictures was not good. Tom had a responsibility to those girls and his tribe. But more than that, he had an obligation to the FBI to make sure that what he did when he was off the clock didn’t compromise the pursuit of justice. And if Judge Jennings let this line of questioning go on, Tom’s time at the truck stops would be fair game for every single defense attorney in the state. Hell, even if this criminal wasn’t found guilty, another defense lawyer would try the same line of attack, hoping to be more successful.
“Your Honor,” Smith finally piped up into the silence, “this entire line of questioning is irrelevant to the case at hand. For all the court knows, he was meeting with informants!”
, Tom thought darkly, although again, he didn’t react. If people suspected those girls were turning informant, they’d be in even more danger.
Judge Jennings ignored Smith. “Mr. Lasky, as far as I can tell, this is proof that Agent Yellow Bird eats meals with other people.”
“Who are known prostitutes!” Lasky crowed, aiming for conviction but nailing desperation instead.
Smith started to object again, but Judge Jennings raised a hand to cut him off. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? He ate—” She turned to face Tom and held out a photo. “Is this dinner or lunch?”
Tom recognized the Crossroads truck stop immediately—that was Jeannie. “Dinner.”
“He ate dinner with a woman? Did she launder the stolen money? Drive the getaway car? Was she the inside woman?”
“Well—no,” Lasky sputtered. “She doesn’t have anything to do with this case!” The second the words left his mouth, he realized what he’d said, and his entire face crumpled in defeat.
“You’ve got that right.” Amazingly, Judge Jennings sounded more disappointed than anything else, as if she’d expected Lasky to put up a better fight. “Anything else you have to add?”
Lasky slumped and shook his head.
“Your Honor,” Smith said, relief all over his face, “move to strike the defense’s comments from the record.”
“Granted.” She fixed a steely gaze on Lasky.
Tom realized he’d never seen such a woman as Judge Jennings—especially not one for whom he’d felt that spark. He wanted nothing more than to chase that fire, keep fanning those flames. Stephanie would have wanted him to move on—he knew that. But no one else had ever caught his attention like this, and he wasn’t going to settle for anything less than everything. So he’d stayed faithful to his late wife and focused on his job.
Except for now. Except for Caroling Jennings.
There was one problem with this unreasonable attraction.
She was his next assignment. Damn it.
“Agent Yellow Bird, you may step down,” she said to him.
Tom made damn sure to keep his movements calm and even. He didn’t gloat and he didn’t strut. Looking like he’d gotten away with something would undermine his position of authority, so he stood straight and tall and, without sparing a glance for the defense attorney or his client, Tom walked out of the courtroom.
There. His work on the bank robbery case was done. Which meant one thing and one thing only.
Caroline Jennings was now his sole focus.
He was looking forward to this.
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After a year of honing their wildlife filmmaking skills, on Thursday the day finally came for last year’s students to show their films at the BBC Natural History Unit. Eager to see how high the bar would be set, this year’s students sat among employees from both the BBC and the independent sector as they came to consider the standard of the next generation of filmmakers.
Introductions from BBC Executive Producer Julian Hector, and UWE’s Susan McMillan and Peter Venn set the stage, and attendees were provided with some extra reading: profiles and CVs of each student, as well as a collection of press releases written on the talks they were given and the many extracurricular projects they were involved in throughout the last year. The booklets listed impressive sets of skills and experiences gained throughout the duration of the course, which made for some exciting reading for my colleagues and I – an exciting snapshot of what the rest of our year might bring.
The films were diverse in both species and location, ranging from a studio-based film about mice to one featuring snow leopards shot in the Himalayas; a number of them were very impressive considering that the films were made on a shoestring budget. The three films chosen to be screened first were Walking with Wolves, Wildlife, Who Cares? and Wild Dreams, and between them they showcased abilities to tell a range of different stories from the conservation-based, to the goings on of a wildlife rescue centre, to being able to put together a story when the original plan becomes impossible. Looking at the quality of films that we saw I couldn’t help but feel inspired, but also daunted at the prospect of making films that live up to the same standard. The bar has been set for the year to come, better get back to work.
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What happens when a nightgown model and a soap opera star meet in a Croatian village where millions believe the Mother of God appears to three visionaries? Yugoslavian born Maya Lidovic owns Intimate Whispers, a New York based sleepwear company. Determined not to lose her faith in a secular world, she spends her vacations leading tours in Valselo where her parents run an inn. Colin O'Reilly plays heartthrob, Dr. Brock Stone, on the soap opera Tides Of Tomorrow. Through various setbacks in life he's managed to keep God first. But now he's furious at God for taking his mother. Colin doesn't believe that God has sent the Virgin Mary to earth with messages of hope. He doesn't believe that God cares about the world. Can a series of apparitions, prophetic dreams and earthy attraction draw these different people together when human frailties obscure the intention of the call that brought them to their destinies?
Colin swept her up in his arms again. “See you back at the house, Tom.”
She swayed and bobbled with the herky-jerky motion. “You can’t carry me down the mountain. I’m too heavy. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Only if you keep wiggling around.”
He landed awkwardly, and her stomach dove. “Colin!” She buried her head in his neck. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. I’ve got you.” His breath was warm against her ear. “Just stay like that, close to me. Keep as still as you can; it’ll help me balance.”
He squeezed her tighter in his arms. “I’ll keep you safe.”
She breathed easier locked against him like that. She heard his heartbeat hammer from his exertion, and the steady drumming soothed her.
“I could get used to this,” he said.
She raised her head slowly. “What, carrying people down all the hills and mountains in Valselo?”
“No.” He smiled. “I could get used to having you in my arms.”
She felt tongue-tied. What should she say? Should she admit that there was no place she would rather be? That she had never felt so safe and protected? She wanted to trust him but how could she after the sting of his display with Brianna?
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I am an Image Thief
Does copying other prominent artists such as Jackson Pollock really make you an artist? Find out in our interview with American painter Robert Longo, who calls himself an image thief. Read more …
When Robert Longo embarked on the project of copying several iconic pieces of art, the artists gave their permission and the museums opened up their doors to him. Each piece was photographed at least fifty times, as Longo sought to capture all the details, trying to understand what was going on and what had happened: “It was like seeing the set for a murder investigation.”
“Making art is like this process that is a balance between something that is very personal but also socially relevant.” Longo continues. This is why the pieces of art featured in the show, which is presented in this video interview, represent abstract works, which he has a personal attachment to. The works are from between 1948-1963 (post-World War Two) and embody the freedom of leaving behind Old World Europe as well as the hope of what America could be. Moreover, they parallel Longo’s own life as he was born in 1953.
Playing with texture, investigating the performative nature of 20th century painting and translating works into black and white from colour photographs with the use of charcoal, are at the core of what attracts Longo, who likes “the twist of making a charcoal drawing based from a photograph of a painting.” This is furthermore something that he has mastered in such a degree, that it is often hard to tell his drawings from the paintings – or photographs – he is copying: “I finally got really sick of people looking at my drawings and telling me they really like my photographs.”
Robert Longo (born 1953) is a New York-born and raised painter and sculptor, who was part of the New York City underground art scene of the 1970’s. It was in the 1980’s, however, that Longo became widely known for his ‘Men in the Cities’ series, which depicted sharply dressed men and women in twisted positions. He has had retrospective exhibitions at places such as the Hamburger Kunstverein and Deichtorhallen, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago and the Isetan Museum of Art in Tokyo. His work is represented in collections of The Museum of Modern Art, the Guggenheim Museum and the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York, the Art Institute of Chicago, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis, the Stedelik Museum in Amsterdam, the Centre Georges Pompidou in Paris, the Albertina in Vienna and the Ludwig Museum in Cologne. Robert Longo was the recipient of the Goslar Kaiserring in 2005. He is also a co-founder and member of the band X PATSYS, in which one of the other six members is his wife, Barbara Sukowa. He lives with his wife and their three sons in New York.
Robert Longo was interviewed by Jesper Bundgaard/Out of Sync at Petzel Gallery, New York.
Camera & edit: Per Henriksen, Out of Sync
Produced by: Out of Sync and Marc-Christoph Wagner
Copyright: Louisiana Channel, Louisiana Museum of Modern Art, 2014
Supported by Nordea-fonden
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How many of you "believe" in Serendipity? I would love to share an amazing story about me and my Mother with you, that still gives me goosebumps of joy and wonder and love.
Wikipedia tells us that "Serendipity is a fortunate happenstance"- not just a matter of a random event, nor can it be taken simply as a synonym for "a happy accident". It is evidently one of the hardest words to translate in our language, such is its wide-ranging meaning.
I think that the serendipitous can play an important role in the search for truth. It has for me, time and time again.
The New Oxford Dictionary of English defines serendipity as "the occurrence and development of events by chance in a satisfactory or beneficial way, understanding the chance as any event that takes place in the absence of any obvious project (randomly or accidentally), which is not relevant to any present need, or in which the cause is unknown."
The first noted use of "serendipity" (meaning pleasant surprise) in the English language was by Horace Walpole (1717–1797). In a letter (1754) he said he formed it from the Persian fairy tale The Three Princes of Serendip, whose heroes "were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things they were not in quest of". The name stems from Serendip, an old name for Sri Lanka (Ceylon).
Serendipity is a capacity. The Nobel Prize laureate Paul Flory suggests that significant incidents are not mere accidents.
Several years ago, after the death of my mother, I inherited a ring with 3 diamonds. I cherished that ring. A year later, I looked down, and to my horror discovered that the central diamond was missing. I retraced my steps, but to no avail. I gave up in dismay, and resigned myself to a careless tragedy. I was heartbroken, not only for me, but for the legacy of my mother, and also for the meaningfulness for my own daughters, bereft of family heirlooms that they, too would inherit, and the deeper love and meaning that is transferred upon gifting of such treasures.
Soon, I shall be embarking upon a trip to my "homeland". It is no surprise that, although I have adopted Australian shores and even have become an Aussie citizen, that I am a "Born in the USA" girl through-and-through. My heart is in Georgia, and always will be. I find a resonance when I am in the Deep South.
In a month, I will be traveling to the USA, taking my youngest daughter Raiyah Paine to introduce her to the "clan", and also traveling with my dear Bob Halstead. He, too, will meet as many of my relatives (on both sides of my family), as we can fit into three glorious weeks on both sides of my great country!
Well- it is also not a great secret that for a few long years (that seemed they would never end) I also went through a big trial, and faced many challenges that threatened my spirit of loving life, adventure, people and places. That particular difficult time is behind me now, and I have never been happier. I am finally, getting "Leigh" back, and I feel more grounded in who I am than ever before in my life.
So.....just yesterday, after the USA tickets had been confirmed, I was here, in my bedroom, enjoying my first cup of coffee. I reminisced, and took a cherished photograph off my bedside table. It is a photograph of my Mother, Katy (Catherine Bradley Walker), radiant in her beauty. She is one of my heroes. My dad is my other. I clutched her photo, and the tears gushed as I told her that her daughter was "going home again." I told her I was happy now, and there had recently been closure on incidents that had hurt me in the past. I told her I was happy, and that I was moving on. I told her that I would be ok. (She had always known that, but it felt good to tell her myself, and out loud.). I told her that her youngest granddaughter was going "home" with me too, and that Bob was coming to meet all the Aunts and my dearest, loving "crazy cousins!" She was a receptive audience- Mother always looked regal, even in her most casual times! I felt she was REALLY there with me, and was, somehow hearing me. Maybe I am also a "crazy" cousin! But it felt good, and the tears were healing and gentle. I dried my eyes - (after all, another cup of coffee was in order....), and I jumped out of bed, feeling on top of the world, and happier than I can remember at the thought that we were going "home" again soon.
I went into my ensuite, and saw the turquoise scarf that Mother had bought me the one and only time that she had visited my family here in Australia. We had selected it after a perfect day together in Palm Cove, seven years ago. I had just worn it for the first time since her death. I was annoyed it had fallen to the bathroom floor overnight. As I bent to pick it up, I noticed a glint.
There was Mother's missing diamond.
Serendipity? You decide.
Mother, I am coming HOME again! I know that's your way of telling me how happy you are for us!
Can't wait to see Y'ALL! California, Georgia, Alabama and Florida, look out, we have our tickets and here we come! Love you all.
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Since May 2014, Mark Kaufmann has been the chief financial officer of Ardelyx, Inc. after joining the company as chief business officer in August 2011. Mark has over 20 years of experience in the biopharmaceutical industry in both the U.S. and Canada in business and corporate development roles. At Ardelyx, he was instrumental in over $1B of deals with pharmaceutical companies as well as the Company’s initial public offering and several subsequent financings. Prior to joining Ardelyx, Mark was president and chief executive officer of Allostera Pharma Inc., a preclinical company focused on autoimmune diseases, and before that was president and chief executive officer of Celmed BioSciences, Inc. Mark started his career as director of strategic planning and investor relations at MedImmune in 1994. Mark received his B.A. in biochemical sciences from Harvard University and his MBA from the University of Michigan School of Business.
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It’s undeniable that Theodor Seuss Geisel, better known by his pen name “Dr. Seuss” is one of the most celebrated writers in history. Not only does his work constitute the bulk of popular children’s literature, but he is also widely praised for his achievements as a political cartoonist during the second world war.
That said, his choice to pen most of his critically acclaimed material under the name “Dr. Seuss” didn’t occur by chance. Actually, that name has quite a bit of history attached to it, some of which centers around a father’s wish that his son would have gotten a Ph.D. Theodor started calling himself “Dr.” in his pen name as his way of recognizing his father’s dream.
When it comes to the second half of his name “Seuss,” he adopted it shortly after he was relieved of his duties as the editor for The Dartmouth Jack-O-Lantern, a college humor magazine.
He had contributed to the magazine for quite some time. In “The Beginnings of Dr. Seuss – An Informal Reminiscence,” originally published in Dartmouth Alumni Magazine’s April 1976 edition, he stated, “almost every night I’d be working in the Jack-O-Lantern office.” However, his time ran out in 1925 when he was caught drinking, which was illegal at the time which caused the then-Dean to suspend him of all of his duties related to the magazine.
“The night before Easter of my senior year there were ten of us gathered in my room at the Randall Club,” he said. “We had a pint for ten people, so that proves nobody was really drinking.” In any case, he, along with the other offenders, was brought before a disciplinary committee which subsequently administered his punishment.
However, despite no longer being officially affiliated with the magazine, Theodor still continued to anonymously contribute to it extensively. After releasing a few of his publications under either fake names or without acknowledging the source, he then issued two with different names: “Seuss” and “T. Seuss” respectively.
At the time, he thought that it was truly an ingenious way to mask his identity while claiming ownership over his work, although he was later unconvinced. “To what extent this corny subterfuge fooled the dean, I never found out. But that’s how ‘Seuss’ first came to be used as my signature. The ‘Dr.’ was added later on.”
His father, a man who managed one of the biggest brewing companies in New England at that time, really wanted Theodor to graduate with a PhD. Actually, he was on the road to doing so. In the 1920s, he was enrolled in the Ph.D. program in English at the University of Oxford with the hope of graduating. Unfortunately, he discontinued his studies and consequently never received the doctorate.
Funnily enough, despite dropping out of university, he was later awarded multiple honorary doctorates, thereby gaining something akin to a Ph.D. It’s safe to say that he was able to live up to his father’s wishes.
That said, in The Beginnings of Dr. Seuss – An Informal Reminiscence, Theodor gave another reason. He said that he added the “Dr.” to his pen name in order to make him sound “more professional.”
At the time, he was working on a project called “Boids and Beasties”. Therefore, he felt that the addition of “Dr.” to his name would have presented himself in a more professional light.
Initially, he used to sign either “Dr. Theophrastus” or “Dr. Theo”. However, those titles were eventually supplanted by “Dr. Seuss,” a name which would become his identification marker throughout the world for years to come.
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I suppose it is every father’s dream to have a son. When Nathan was born, I was genuinely surprised. After all, my college roommate had already had three straight girls. It wasn’t long before Nathan cracked his first smile, that winning combination of mischief and innocence that you all have seen, and he’s had us in the palm of his hand ever since.
For those of you who were not at Nathan’s bris, I have to explain his very long Hebrew name – Nathan Nachman Avraham. Pam and I had decided to name our first son after our two paternal grandfathers. Pam’s grandfather Nathan Mayers was a larger than life figure in her family and we both agreed it would be wonderful to name our son after him. His middle name would be Arnold, after my grandfather, a similarly important figure in my family. While I knew that Arnold’s Hebrew name was Abraham after his own paternal grandfather, I had assumed incorrectly that Nathan Mayers’ Hebrew name was Natan. On the morning of the bris, I learned that his true Hebrew name had been Nachman. I consulted with our mohel, Rabbi Liebovics, who first reminded me of his generous discount offer – the fifth son is half price! I told him our dilemma, that we had intended to name our son Natan Avraham, but now we learned that it should be Nachman. “It’s the same price,” the rabbi replied. “Just give him three names.” So that is how our son became Natan Nachman Avraham.
The reason I held onto the name Natan was that it reminded me of the famous 18th century play Nathan der Weise (Nathan the Wise) by the great German author Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. Lessing was close friends with the founder of the Jewish enlightenment or Haskalah, Rabbi Moses Mendelssohn, the famous philosopher who also translated the Hebrew bible and psalms into German, and was the grandfather of the composer Felix Mendelssohn. In Nathan the Wise, Lessing makes the case for religious pluralism, so strong that the Church initially banned the play during Lessing’s lifetime. In the play, the wise Jewish merchant Nathan is asked by the Muslim Saladin which religion is the true religion. Rather than answer directly, Nathan tells a parable about a magic ring.
A prince made a beautiful magic ring that was said to make the owner beloved by God and man. He determined that it should be passed on to only his most favorite son, and from him to his favorite son and so on, so that the ruling prince would be the one who received the magic ring. Eventually the ring came to a prince with three sons, but this prince could not decide between his children. So the prince made two more rings, identical in appearance to the first. Upon his death each son received a ring. But which was the true one? No one could tell.
Each son accused his brothers of being a fraud, possessing only a counterfeit ring. So the three sons went to a wise judge. He said, the magic ring is supposed to make the bearer beloved by God and man. Which one of you is the most beloved by the other two? The sons did not reply. The judge therefore decreed that he could not tell which ring was the true ring, that all three might be counterfeit and the original lost. To find out whether one of them had the real ring, it was up to them to live in such a way that their ring’s powers could prove true, to live a life that is good in the eyes of God and mankind rather than expecting the ring’s miraculous powers to do so. In the play, Nathan uses this parable to answer Saladin’s question about religion, saying that each of us (Christian, Muslim or Jew) must live a good life by the religion we have learned from those we respect, without worrying about which one is truer than the other.
Reading your Torah portion this week, and thinking about the man that you have become, I was reminded of Nathan the Wise. Nathan, you have a heart of gold, an internal moral compass that sets your course. The Torah has lessons for all different types of people. Some people need to be taught that there are terrible consequences for their bad acts, that they will be rewarded if they do something right, and cursed or punished if they do something wrong. Some people need to believe that they hold a magic ring that steers them on the right course. But you, Nathan, don’t need all those tricks. Think about it. If the list of curses in your portion had been shorter or longer, would that make any difference to you in how you behave? If we told you that the Tallis that you received for your bar mitzvah was magic, would it change you?
What makes you so special, and what makes your mommy and me so proud of you, is that you know, almost instinctively, what is right and what is wrong. You are a kind and caring person by nature, just exactly what we hoped for when you were born. You treat your siblings and your friends with respect and fairness. You make good decisions and avoid bad ones. In short, you have become just the man we always hoped you would be, and we could not be any more proud and happy to be your parents.
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Joyce Nao Takahashi (a.k.a. Joyce T. Doi) has been a member of the ACS for 60 years. We are pleased to be able to honor her at our 2017 Flavors of Chemistry event. We asked Joyce to write a summary of her years with ACS:
I joined the student affiliates of ACS when I was an undergraduate at UC Berkeley. Initially I was planning to be a high school science teacher, but my fascination with chemistry led me to graduate school at UCLA where I received the doctorate in 1960. (Out of our graduate class of 24, three of us were women, and I was the only woman who earned a Ph. D. I attribute that to the wisdom and encouragement of my graduate advisor, Professor Saul Winstein.)
After doing postdoctoral work at the University of Wisconsin, Madison and at Syracuse University, Syracuse, NY, I was appointed Lecturer at UC Davis in 1965, later I became an Adjunct Professor in 1993 and Emerita in 1995. I am coauthor of 35 research publications; the work at UC Davis was done in collaboration with Professor W. Kenneth Musker. In 1990 I received an award, which I used to work with enzymes in the laboratory of Professor George Kenyon at UCSF
I carried a regular teaching load at UC Davis and was invigorated by the students in the classroom as well as in the laboratory. I am author of an organic chemistry laboratory manual (1986), (which was still in use at UC Davis 20 years later) and coauthor of an audiovisual course published by the ACS in 1982.
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“I have a very rich dream life. It started at a very early age,” he says. “Every night, I looked forward to going to sleep, because for me it was like going to the movies. I didn’t know what was going to happen. None of us can predict what we’re going to dream. I just feel lucky that I get to remember many of my dreams.”
Dreaming, in one way and another, has taken Schenck to places he might never have imagined when he was young — to Hollywood, where he became a noted portrait photographer, and to art galleries across the country. He grew up on an isolated 800-acre ranch in central Texas, near the town of Dripping Springs, where his view of the outside world came from the movies he watched on television. “I was addicted,” he says. “I think it had to do with my dreams. Movies were the closest things to the dreams I was having.”
He was also fond of art, an enthusiasm his parents encouraged. Schenck’s ancestors included two noted Texas painters, Hermann Lungkwitz and Richard Petri, who were held in high esteem in his home. “So I was sent to a painting school when I was a teenager. I was selling landscape paintings by the time I was 13,” Schenck says.
He went on to major in art at North Texas State University but was soon making films there as well, one of which was called Dream Sequence. It is what you might expect from a college student in 1975 — 10 minutes of grainy black-and-white suspense featuring a young woman pursued through darkened hallways, perhaps by her own memories, or her own madness. It is also hard to take your eyes away from.
Encouraged by a friend, Schenck left college early and headed to Los Angeles to become a filmmaker. Along the way he also began shooting still images and found a new profession. Schenck became known for portraits of film stars and other performers — Marisa Tomei and Nicole Kidman among them — that harkened back to Hollywood’s golden age and the studied glamour of photographers like George Hurrell and Clarence Sinclair Bull. He has shot for Vogue, Rolling Stone, Entertainment Weekly and other magazines, and, as his website notes, created “hundreds of album covers.”
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Our relationships with history’s greatest innovators and influencers usually are developed in a classroom or during an hour-long documentary. Imagine having an entire evening, some appetizers, wine and steak with one of them. What would you say? Would you ask the obvious: What inspires you? Or would you go for gossip: Did you really have a thing for Amelia Earhart? Every month SUCCESS is going to “sit down to dinner” with one of the world’s greatest minds and ask a few questions of our own.
We recently had haggis (that’s Scottish sheep sausage to you and me) with Alexander Graham Bell, who was awarded U.S. Patent No. 174,465, a sequence of six numbers that officially launched the telephone. Though the phone is Graham’s most noted invention, he also innovated in areas of aeronautics, transportation, medical research and alternative fuels. And each of his innovations sprang from his desire, at least initially, to better understand sound and speech.
Q: Did you inherit your scientific mind from your parents or did you just wake up one day and think, “Today would be a good day to revolutionize communication”?
A: “A man, as a general rule, owes very little to what he is born with—a man is what he makes of himself.”
Bell was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, on March 3, 1847. His brother, father and grandfather all researched and studied elocution and speech. They greatly influenced Bell’s decision to explore elocution—clear speaking—as did his mother, who started losing her hearing when Bell was a boy. Many of his experiments were driven by a desire to communicate with his mother and collaborate with his family.
While Bell was certainly influenced by his surroundings, his obsessive interest in science and unyielding work ethic impelled him to become a great inventor. He spent his time exploring, experimenting and devising ways to improve existing technologies and people’s everyday lives. When he was 12, Bell built a corn de-husking machine for a local miller who had complained that manual de-husking was laborious and time consuming.
Like many innovators, Bell indulged all of his passions. If he had an interest, he explored it. He learned to read music and taught himself ventriloquism to entertain guests.
His varied interests often led to new inventions. His success with minor mechanical inventions like the de-husker and his understanding of the way ventriloquism and music manipulate sound all led to his eventual creation of the telephone.
Q: You didn’t exactly follow the crowd when it came to getting your education and finding a job. What would you tell others who yearn to take the road less traveled?
A: “Leave the beaten track behind occasionally and dive into the woods. Every time you do, you will be certain to find something you have never seen before.”
Bell left school at 15 (his record was undistinguished) to stay with his grandfather in London. There, his grandfather fueled his scientific curiosity, and Bell spent more time learning and studying than in the classroom. At 16, he became a student and teacher of elocution at the Weston House Academy in Scotland. By 19, he had an idea to produce vowel sounds electronically, and he made an observation that set the tone for the rest of his life’s work: He determined that if he could produce consonants, he could electronically “articulate speech.”
Q: There must have been a lot of pressure to say the right thing when you finally tested the first working telephone. What were the first words you spoke?
A: “Mr. Watson—Come here—I want to see you.”
Bell really started working on the concept of the telephone in 1871, five years before the patent was approved. He started work on his harmonic telegraph, a device that would allow multiple messages (rather than one at a time) to pass through a single wire by use of a transmitter and receiver. While he worked on the device, he opened the School of Vocal Physiology and Mechanics of Speech in Boston and tutored several students. Stretched thin and unable to fully engage in his experiments, he turned his full attention back to his laboratory in 1874.
Following the success of the harmonic telegraph, Bell developed an acoustic telegraph (one that transmitted vocal notes) and embarked upon a patent race with Elisha Gray, who was working on an acoustic telegraph that relied on a water transmitter. The two got their patent applications in on the same date in 1876, but Bell won the patent, leading many to claim he stole Gray’s design.
Three days after getting his patent, Bell “phoned” his assistant, Thomas Watson, who had sat on the receiving end of countless failed attempts at telephone communication before hearing Bell’s voice.
Q: As an inventor you suffered many failures before attaining your many successes. What advice do you have for those who have met failure?
A: “When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.”
Critics not only tore apart Bell’s successes, they also celebrated his failures. In 1881, Bell, his asssistant Sumner Tainter, and mathematician Simon Newcomb claimed to have developed a device that could locate bullets lodged in a person’s body. President James Garfield had just been shot and doctors were hoping to find a way to locate the bullet without using traditional means of trial and error, which was all that was available to them at the time.
The two men invented and experimented with a device that hummed when in close proximity to metal. They tried it on their own bodies by hiding bullets under their arms and locating them with the device. They were successful when they used it on themselves, but when they tried it on the president, it hummed nonstop. Bell was highly criticized for the failure. Later it was realized that Garfield’s bed had thrown off the device. Much of it was metal.
Though Bell technically failed to find the Garfield bullet, he’s credited with the invention of the metal detector.
Q: Spending hours on end in a lab seems like it might get dull. Did you ever get bored?
A: “There cannot be mental atrophy in any person who continues to observe, to remember what he observes, and to seek answers for his unceasing hows and whys about things.”
Anyone who saw Bell at work might have dismissed his antics as a waste of time, but his willingness to try anything and test his powers of observation led to many successful inventions. He and a brother once fooled visitors into believing their Skye terrier, Trouve, could say, “How are you, Grandma?” While they played it off as a practical joke, playtime with Trouve was actually an experiment in sound transmission. The Bell brothers would get the dog to growl then teach it to manipulate its mouth and vocal cords so it sounded as if the dog was asking after Grandma.
To some, playing with a dog was a waste of time. To Bell, it yielded insight into the complexities of sound transmission.
Q: Do you feel that your inventions are precursors for things like computers or smartphones?
A: “Great discoveries and improvements invariably involve the cooperation of many minds. I may be given credit for having blazed the trail, but when I look at the subsequent developments, I feel the credit is due to others rather than to myself.”
Bell knew better than anyone the importance of collaborating with other innovators and building off their innovations. Many of his 30 patents (a number of which were shared with colleagues) resulted from working with others or improving innovations.
And though Bell didn’t live to see its universal impact, his most famous invention certainly became the impetus for many more.
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The guitar may be the backbone of rock & roll, but the saxophone is a prominent instrument in a variety of popular genres, including jazz and blues. Its players have been some of the most talented in history, and their music will live for centuries to come. While there have been innumerable saxophonists over the last century or so, none have been as influential as those on this list. Their impact is profound, and their contribution has helped shape the instrument into what we know and love today. Here are just eight of the most famous saxophonists of all time, in no particular order.
Sidney Bechet wasn’t just a saxophonist–he played the clarinet and was a respected composer, too. He was one of the first solo jazz artists to record in the studio, and by the time he was 17 he had performed and played with some of the best most influential musicians in his hometown of New Orleans. Soon after discovering the soprano saxophone in a London shop in 1920, he made his first recordings and became known for his reedy soprano blowing, which had tons of vibrato and emotional intensity. The only saxophonist on this list to be born in the 1800s, he has the distinction of being the first significant saxophonist in the jazz music genre.
Known for his time with the Duke Ellington Orchestra that lasted from the mid-1930s to the late-1940s, he worked alongside the likes of Duke Ellington, Dizzy Gillespie, and Fletcher Henderson throughout his career as a saxophone musician. Ben Webster was affectionately referred to as Brute and the Beautiful because he gave his music an exceptional touch of gentleness while his faster tempos were very physical, almost animal like. His bluesy tenor saxophone is one of the most identifiable in jazz, and is his style is studied by many young musicians today.
Charlie Parker is hailed by many as being the best jazz saxophonist (ever!) and with good reason. He introduced revolutionary harmonic ideas into the genre, and even helped pioneer the inclusion of classical and Latin influences into jazz. Unfortunately, Charlie Parker was a troubled individual and suffered from addiction to alcohol and drugs. He only lived until he was 34 years old as a result of complications with his liver, which makes us wonder what more he could have done for the genre if he lived a much longer life. His sheer influence, talent, and contribution to the genre as a whole is even more impressive when you consider how young he was when he died.
Although he was born in Philadelphia, Stan Getz became one of the most popular tenor saxophonists of the West Coast cool school scene of the 50s. He began playing the saxophone at the age of 13, so he became highly skilled at the instrument at a very young age. He worked with some of the most well-known names in the industry, including Charlie Parker. Credited with pioneering the bossa nova style which is still popular today, Getz could also play bop and fusion, making him one of the more versatile saxophonists on this list. He’s also guested on plenty of pop records, and has hundreds of albums under his belt.
Grover Washington Jr.
Extremely popular in the 70s and 80s, Grover Washington Jr. is credited with having inspired greats such as Kenny G and Steve Cole. Another incredibly versatile musician on this list, he could also expertly play the alto, tenor, soprano, and baritone saxophones. Known for his work in the smooth jazz genre, he was also involved in hugely successful projects that had elements of jazz funk and soul jazz. A large mural of Washington sits just south of the intersection of Broad and Diamond streets in Philadelphia, so if you’re ever in the area be sure to check it out.
Michael Brecker, born and raised in Pennsylvania, grew up listening to jazz and rock. As a result, he never acknowledged musical boundaries and played sax in a variety of pop and rock sessions in the 70s, for everyone from Steely Dan to Art Garfunkel. He had an uncanny ability to move from progressive rock to jazz to pop and back again, and he quickly became the standard for modern sax playing, influencing the likes of Joshua Redman and Chris Potter. While he made records with a more straight jazz feel later in his life, he’ll always be known for his versatility.
Responsible for ushering in the free and Avant garde jazz movement, Ornette Coleman was born in Texas but spent most of his professional life in New York. An alto saxophonist and composer, he was one one of the most powerful innovators in the history of modern jazz music. Because of his influence, jazz musicians in the 50s and 60s didn’t feel like they had to stick with the rules of harmony and rhythm, which helped set American jazz apart from the rest of the world. Plus, the fact that Ornette Coleman played on a plastic alto saxophone before upgrading his instrument is living proof of why we hold our annual Upgrade Your Sound event.
Want to check out even more saxophone musicians? Check out Important Jazz Saxophone Players Through History.
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Diaries and Letters - Grand Duchess Marie Pavlovna
by Grant Menzies © 1999
(Originally published in the European Royal History Journal, Issues VIII & IX.)
Perhaps it was because she had never had much of a childhood herself that Grand Duchess Marie Pavlovna of Russia, daughter of Grand Duke Paul Aleksandrovich and Aleksandra of Greece, had no great affinity for the toddlers of this world. She knew this all too well. All the hurtful ways adults had of dealing with her in her own infancy, she wrote, were strangely to shape all her relations with children - even with her own.
Certainly, in later years, on coming to know her son by Prince Vilhelm of Sweden, Count Lennart Bernadotte af Wisborg, Marie obliged the tall young man to address her by her given name rather than 'mother', a requirement that seems not to have sat comfortably with either the boy or the man. If this appears strange, it is well to remember that Marie's mother, after all, had died tragically young, following the birth of a son, Grand Duke Dimitri, when Marie was less than two years old; and not long after, her father took up with a beautiful lady whose commoner origins eventually got both sent into Parisian exile. Marie and Dimitri, traumatized, were taken into the bosom of their father's family, the Romanovs, whose childrearing techniques, generally speaking, had not the best of track records, and specifically into the bosom of a marriage that could hardly be called the best example for adults, let alone bewildered children.
On this unpromising anvil Marie forged a character that was nothing if not self-reliant. But her lifelong inability to relate to children was to prove that however lucky she was to have found a lifeboat, come the sinking of the Titanic of Russia's ruling caste after 1918, the few treasures she saved from the wreckage were wanting when compared to those she had long ago left behind. Luckily for Marie, her own child had no intention of doing the same.
'Born in 1890', Marie writes in her first volume of memoirs, The Education of a Princess, 'I have stepped through the ages." Her earliest memories were of lazy country estates populated by armies of servants, fortresses haunted by reverberations of past strife and bloodshed, of palaces that were such confections of gold, silver, and marble that they outdistanced the fairy tale fastnesses described by the most fantastical nyanyas. As she wrote of these things, looking out on Depression-era New York's traffic-clogged streets and towering buildings, Marie must indeed have wondered which was real and which make-believe.
In the Russia of 1890 (as in the Russia of a century later), life would remain mediaeval in certain respects for the many and up-to-date for a relative few. Marie belonged to the second category in so far as she grew up with conveniences'electric light, telephones, automobiles'that remained mysterious if not terrifying to the majority of her cousin Tsar Nicholas II's subjects. But where the Romanov family regulations were concerned, mediaevalism enjoyed a biblical life-span. The Fundamental Laws, scripted by Tsar Paul I, threw the book at all sorts of troubles which he wished never to see repeated. Women, for example, were to be barred from ruling'one didn't want another Catherine the Great roving unchecked upon the face of Holy Russia. For added difficulty, spouses taken by all members of the ruling family were to be equal-born. By the end of the 19th century, this requirement had set up a towering standard of best behavior, directed mainly toward the males of the family, which many of them opted to sidestep by taking morganatic wives. What a Grand Duke gained in domestic bliss, he and his children by such a woman lost in giving up all rights to the Russian throne or the family name.
This risk Marie's father, Grand Duke Paul Aleksandrovich, proved himself willing to run. His first wife had fallen ill shortly after arriving for a visit to Ilinskoie, the unpretentious country estate of her brother-in-law Grand Duke Serge Aleksandrovich outside Moscow, in September 1891. Six days in a coma, Aleksandra was delivered of a premature son, Grand Duke Dmitri, and then died. No one could believe that the lovely Grand Duchess Paul, only 21 years old, was no more, least of all her adoring husband. At the funeral in Peter and Paul Cathedral, Paul couldn't bear to have the coffin closed, and Serge had to take him in his arms and lead him away.
Of the many failings that can be ascribed to those Romanov princes who married or mistressed in defiance of the Fundamental Laws, coldness of heart was rarely among them. When four years into his widowerhood Grand Duke Paul met Mme Eric von Pistolkors, an elegant Petersburg socialite of noble Hungarian ancestry, he and the future Princess Paley literally fell in love at first sight. A natural son, Vladimir, brought about Olga von Pistolkors' divorce from her Cheval Garde officer husband in 1897; and in autumn 1902, the Grand Duke was married to his lady, in Livorno, Italy, by an Orthodox priest ignorant of their identities. Unable to return to Russia, the couple took up residence in a mansarded villa in Paris, No. 2 Avenue Victor Hugo, where it seemed they were to dwell happily ever after.
Having been informed by mail of their father's marriage, and devastated by the news, the 12 year old Marie and her 11 year old brother were placed in the care of their uncle, Grand Duke Serge, and his wife, the coldly beautiful Princess Elisabeth (Ella) of Hessen, sister of Empress Aleksandra. Marie claimed her childhood ended in this year of 1902, but she describes in her memoirs even before that a girl not so much infant as miniature adult. Some instinct warned her early on that the way of life led by her family was off kilter compared to the rest of the world, and was not to last. Indeed, close to this time she pictures herself, sitting on the floor of the nursery, attempting to button her own boots. In the event of a revolution, a modern princess had to know how to look after herself.
This Marie was to do very well even before revolutions began to rain down. She lived with an aunt who when not ignoring her entirely seems to have been as chilly as her sister was overwrought. Once Marie found Ella wearing court dress, her swan-like neck emblazoned with sapphires, and impulsively kissed the pale flesh under the gorgeous stones. Ella's response was to stare coldly, stinging her niece to the heart.
Uncle Serge was far more complicated. Historians generally accept that he was homosexual, without pointing out how much of his odd behavior may have been occasioned by the fear and self-loathing he, in a family that did not appreciate men of his kind, probably lived with on a daily basis. He ran Ilinskoie like a mother superior her convent'loving and fierce by turns. When he was angry, Marie remembered, Serge's lips became 'one crisp straight line', while his eyes were 'little hard points of light.' Every detail of the house, down to what his wife wore, came under those hard little points. Ella, Marie felt, was remote for a good reason: Serge drove her into the only refuge she could find'herself. Though toward herself and her brother Uncle Serge was capable of an affection almost maternal, Marie freely admits she could not entirely disagree with a world that thought him heartless, self-centered and cruel.
Transferred to the larger world, Serge's petty tyranny gained him many enemies'some in the Imperial family itself had questioned the sanity of Ella's yen to marry him years before. It wasn't just his part in the mishandling of the security arrangements leading to the 1896 Khodynka Field disaster at his nephew Nicholas II's coronation, that first shadow on 'Nicky's"twilit reign, that made Serge a figure much hated in Moscow, particularly among the sort of bomb-throwing political dissenters who had assassinated his father. His cousin, Grand Duke Aleksander Mikhailovich, claimed to be unable to find 'a single redeeming feature in his character'. Serge was 'obstinate, arrogant, disagreeable', wrote Aleksander Mikhailovich, 'flaunting his many peculiarities in the face of an entire nation." Aleksander Mossolov of the Court Chancellery noted Serge's extremely reactionary nature, never hesitating to expound his 'die-hard ideas"to his nephew the Tsar (who merely smiled politely in response). More even-handed yet perhaps even more penetrating in her critique of Serge was the witty American Duchess of Marlboro, the former Consuelo Vanderbilt, who thought Serge gave off a palpable 'air of evil'. He would have made an excellent Mephistopheles, she mused. Some dissatisfied Russians took that impression a little more seriously. Early in 1905, amid worsening tensions over Russia's failure to master Japan in battle, Marie and Dmitri were taken to stay with Ella and Serge in the unheatable rooms of the Kremlin's Nicholas Palace, safe'so it was thought'from the revolutionary disorders that had been plaguing Moscow the past months. On 16 February, they and Serge emerged from the thick walls of the Kremlin to hear Feodor Chaliapin sing at a war benefit. As Marie was to discover, only her and Dmitri's presence prevented the terrorists dogging her uncle's heels from throwing a bomb into his carriage that very night.
Two days later, Marie was sitting at her lessons, her schoolroom window opening to a wide view of the Kremlin square covered in snow. Her uncle had just left the palace in his sleigh, to attend to business in the city. Suddenly, an explosion rattled the panes. She remembered clouds of startled crows, circling madly around St Ivan's steeple, and her aunt Ella being borne away in a sleigh, Marie's governess in tow. It returned with the governess alone, who shakingly took the children away from the window. Later, Marie and Dmitri viewed a pitiful bundle of coat-covered remains, beside which Ella prayed'she who had gathered them up, a hand here, there a foot, in her cloak, on the bloody square. 'He loved you so,"Ella told them, holding their heads near to her. 'He loved you so." By the time night fell, Ella had softened'she asked to sleep in Marie's room and wept against her on the bed'and began to radiate the intense passion for life's matters of ultimate concern that would lead her to visit and forgive her husband's murderer and found a convent in which she, like her namesake St. Elisabeth of Hungary, worked for general and particular salvation.
Not that the nun's habit that seemed to bequeath fresh candor and sense on Ella was entirely wonder-working. Largely through Ella's dictation, backed up by her prim and proper sister Irene of Prussia, Marie was to find herself propelled into another unfortunate domestic arrangement in a household not her own. Perhaps Marie's own admission, that the cynicism of her generation could not accept such acts as Ella's forgiveness toward Serge's assassin and the founding of her convent, rankled in her aunt's heart.
Although Marie knew her aunt's silences told more than her words, she was unprepared for the painful surprise of having been set up as fiancÚe of Prince Vilhelm of Sweden. What was worse, Marie's assent to the union was obtained while she was sick in bed, without counsel. Her father, Grand Duke Paul, was against the plan, as were other family members; but the only concession was that the marriage be postponed till Marie reached age eighteen. The ceremony was duly carried out in the spring of 1908.
Prince Vilhelm was tall and thin, with veiled grey eyes and a defensive, arms-crossed manner, while Marie was plump, mischievous, and proud, with the candid blue gaze of her maternal grandmother, Queen Olga of Greece (nÚe Grand Duchess Olga Constantinova of Russia). Pictures of the newly joined couple scarcely bring the fireworks of passion to mind, showing as they do a remote Vilhelm, standing like an idle spectator beside a glum Marie, who supports packhorse-like all the weight of Catherine the Great's diamond coronet and yards of velvet, ermine, and brocade. It was a marriage made in mystery. Sweden and Russia, after all, were traditional enemies. There were few logical political benefits to be derived from a union of Bernadotte and Romanov, particularly as Vilhelm was a younger son and Marie only a Tsar's granddaughter. There must have been plenty of indications to those making the arrangements on the Swedish side that Prince Vilhelm was no more suited to marriage than Serge had been. And one has to wonder: Had Ella, intentionally or no, perversely attempted to replicate her own strange marriage in brokering Marie's with the Swedish prince?
While Marie's union was almost as odd as Ella's, there was a difference: Marie was by nature a fighter, a questioner of the status quo, and this was to land her in some difficult situations in the notoriously hidebound Swedish court.
Life in Stockholm did not improve for the new Duchess of Sûdermanland even after building a home of her own. (This house, Oakhill, reverted to Marie's son upon her divorce from Vilhelm in 1913.) Marie claimed the women of the Swedish royal family disliked her, particularly Vilhelm's mother, and believed them jealous of the spectacular jewels she had brought from Russia. This is certainly possible: Marie had some wonderful things, inherited from her mother's collection as well as from the best of what Aunt Ella gave her after taking the veil in 1905. Whether this was the only reason is debatable. There are indications that Marie did not go out of her way to please during her five years in Sweden, though she seems to have tried harder where her husband was concerned. She and Vilhelm by no means disliked one another. But due to their youth and their inability to communicate on serious matters they took refuge in a kind of adolescent playfulness, dressing up Russian-style and dancing solos before assembled guests who might have been surprised to discover that outside of these dances, the young duke and duchess rarely manifested much physical proximity toward one another.
Marie realized later on that she and her husband did much 'overcompensating"for their marriage's hollow center. 'Your father was not a good lover,"she not unsurprisingly told her son; and in fact, Marie had much more fun with her bespectacled but amusing father-in-law, King Gustav V, than with Vilhelm. Looking at Marie's unsettled childhood, this stands to reason: She was even hungrier for the fatherly protection taken from her so young than she was for the physical satisfaction which, as a young, pretty, and passionate woman, she ought to have enjoyed from her husband.
The birth of a son, in May 1909, failed to make bearable either the marriage or the goldfish bowl of the etiquette-driven Swedish court in which it existed; and in autumn 1911, the canny King Gustav suggested that his son and daughter-in-law take a cruise to Siam, to represent Sweden at the coronation of King Vajiravudh in Bangkok'something of what in modern parlance is called a second honeymoon, and eerily prescient of the similarly unsuccessful trip to the same part of the world undertaken by Prince Charles of Wales and his wife, Diana, some eighty years later.
Siam opened Marie's eyes in several ways. At the same time she was exposed to cultures and traditions, as splendid in their way as anything in Russia, she also discovered something less positive: that it was not possible that she and Vilhelm could go on living together. The intimacy she had hoped to experience with her husband during this change of scene proved a pipe dream; Vilhelm, Marie remembered in later years, seemed to take no impressions from their exotic surroundings, and was sunk in a depression the entire time'evidence that Marie was not doing all the suffering in the relationship.
The flesh and blood woman beneath all the surface glamour could bear being ignored no longer, and in fact, in Bangkok Marie had occasion to realize that she was not without ways of relieving her frustrations, should she wish to take advantage of them. A French big game hunter, the Duc de Montpensier, made no secret that his interest in Marie was more than platonic in nature, while to herself Marie made no secret of the fact that it would be all too easy to let herself go and accept the blandishments of a man who was not her husband. Love was definitely in the air at the Siamese king's coronation, because Marie rather comically awoke to the news that King Vajiravudh, too, had developed a more than passing interest in her. With characteristically dry humor, she tried to imagine herself as one of Vajiravudh's many wives but failed to find this polygamous fantasy to her taste. Ultimately, both the French duke and the Siamese king had to be content with friendly but regretful smiles from the Duchess of SÖdermanland.
On return to Sweden, Marie began to sort through her life and plan what she wanted to do with it. Never having really wanted in, she now wanted out, and by winter 1913, she got her wish: her marriage to Vilhelm was annulled.
Free to go her own way, Marie would not see her son again until 1921 as if, literally, from the other side of an abyss.
Though now back in her beloved Russia, Marie was haunted that new year of 1914 by a strange sense of anxiety, made the stranger by the calm surrounding her. She could not help feeling this was a calm before the storm, that a catastrophe was brewing under the surface of life's heretofore unrippled pond.
Catastrophe did come, a few months after Marie's 24th birthday: the conflict between Austria and Serbia that was to enlarge, thanks to Wilhelm II, into the first World War.
Russia's spirits were high, in the beginning. Many thought the war would be finished in the four months between its onset and Christmas, as many who fled Russia after the 1917 revolution believed they would soon return to their properties and chattels. Before the war, heads of state dialogued in nursery nicknames: they were Nicky and Alicky, Georgie and May, Cousin Willy and Uncle Ernie. But in this last act of a family drama involving cousinly kings and the kingdoms which were their stage settings, politics swamped and drowned personal feelings.
Like her cousins the daughters and sister of Nicholas II, as well as the Empress herself and countless other Russian women of estate high, low and in between, Marie trained as a nurse. (Maria and Anastasia were too young, but did have their own hospital in Tsarskoe Selo.) Marie's portrait, looking wry in her nurse's kerchief, appeared with the more solemn faces of other female Romanovs in one of the last Fabergé eggs made for the imperial court, the so-called Red Cross Egg. The war that was supposed to end all wars, and end soon, did neither. What did peel away fast was the imported European civilization Peter the Great had veneered over the rough planking that constituted the better part of Russia's social and economic structure.
With Princess Helen of Serbia, Marie was dispatched to the northern front, at Insterburg in East Prussia, under command of General Rennenkampf. For bravery under airplane fire, she was awarded the St George medal; her hard work despite her high origin inspired when it did not mortify her patients.
In 1915 she took over a hospital at Pskov, to which the Empress, her two nursing daughters, and the omnipresent Anna Vyrubova paid a tense visit. When the Tsar came, Marie noted evenly, his calming presence seemed to put the wounded men more at their ease.
Visiting Marie at Pskov (and disappointed by a lack of the gunfire she had also come to see), Princess Lucien Murat raised misgivings by telling her hostess of an interview she had just had with Grigory Rasputin, the eminence grise of the increasingly emotional Empress Aleksandra, left as Regent by her increasingly remote husband, Nicholas, while he assumed command of the remains of the Russian army. That December of 1916, coming in from an evening walk, Marie was informed that Rasputin had been killed in St Petersburg. Next morning came the real blow: her brother, Grand Duke Dmitri, was implicated in the murder, his friend Prince Felix Yussupov having actually pulled the trigger. By the end of December, Dmitri was exiled to the Persian front. Three months later, Nicholas II was no longer Tsar.
Until March 1917, wrote Marie, revolution meant to her about as much as the word death would to a child. Because this perspective was by no means peculiar to her, and a good deal less so than to many of Nicholas II's privileged subjects, the revolutions of February and October 1917 were treated like a slow-motion tsunami: it was approaching, but there was still time. Some, however, like Grand Duke Paul, were clear-sighted enough to know better. "There is no Russia any longer," he told his daughter. Russia had become a country called Revolution, and its masters would preserve it at any price.
Marie would later imply that this world turned upside down also turned her head, for during that tug-o'-war summer between Kerensky and the provisional government on one side and the Bolsheviks and Lenin on the other, she fell in love with a commoner, Prince Serge Mikhailovich Putiatin, son of the commander of the palaces in Tsarskoe Selo. Certainly her father, having married for love rather than caste, had no objection; he also wanted her to find 'a good man'. Whatever her later feelings about Serge, Marie not only found in him a good man but in his parents allies in the struggle to escape the hell of Bolshevik Russia and conquer the uncertainties beyond its borders.
Four months after the democratic revolution, Comte Louis de Robien of the French Embassy was present at a birthday party in Tsarskoe Syelo for Grand Duke Paul, at which he saw Marie wearing a white crinoline gown, set off with "wonderful pearls." After dinner, plays written in French by Marie's half-brother, the handsome and talented Vladimir Paley, were enacted. Vladimir and Marie also performed a comedy in Russian. Despite the presence of two women servants'male servitors being de rigeur in great houses'the Comte de Robien enjoyed himself, especially when driving home with Countess Kleinmichel in her barouche, "on the most diaphanous of white nights."(The astonishing thing is that Countess Kleinmichel, whose palace only two months before had been overtaken by soldiers who shot out the eyes of her family portraits, littered the carpets, and forced the elderly lady into two rooms at the top of the house, even had a barouche in which to drive home.)
The play-acting wasn't to last. In late August, a few weeks after Nicholas, Aleksandra and their children were sent to Siberia for 'safe-keeping', the revolution cut close to home for Marie: Grand Duke Paul, Princess Paley and their children were put under house arrest. Marie demanded their release; Kerensky assented in so leisurely a fashion that by her wedding to Prince Putiatin on September 19th, the family were still under guard. The Comte de Robien heard that though Marie and Serge were allowed to get married in the Empire gorgeousness of Pavlovsk palace, the local Soviet would not permit Marie's grandmother, Queen Olga of Greece, to attire her staff in livery. (As it was, the wedding was held just in time: by mid-November Queen Olga would be asked to leave the house, more for the safety of the palace than her own person, by conservators desperate to protect its beauties from the looting and damage being inflicted on imperial residences in Petersburg and elsewhere.)
The Bolshevik triumph was not far off. On a trip to Moscow a month later, on the rather tardy errand of removing Marie's jewels from the state bank, Marie and Serge stumbled into the outbreak of the second revolution. They dodged bullets and the terrified crowds stampeding away from them, returning to St Petersburg with their lives but no jewelry. Later on, Serge's parents retrieved Marie's diamonds, which they ingeniously hid about the apartment they shared with their son and daughter-in-law. Within a year, every single pearl was to come in handy.
Marie went into labor on July 8, 1918, after tending vegetables, barefoot, in a garden behind the cottage she and Serge had taken to be closer to Grand Duke Paul and Princess Paley. She gave birth that night to a son who, though surviving the trek, with his Putiatin grandparents, out of soviet Russia later that year, would perish of disease in Romania. His christening was to hold a morbid fascination for Marie, for on that same day, 'almost at that same hour', outside the Siberian town of Alapayevsk, Ella, Marie's half-brother Vladimir Paley, along with four Romanov princes and a nun companion of Ella's, were being forced alive down a mine shaft, grenades and bullets sent in after them.
Had Marie known that at roughly the same time, a bunch of confused, sleep-deprived Bolsheviks were finally burying the decaying corpses of her cousins the Tsar and his family and their retinue in the woods outside Ekaterinburg, having shot, stabbed and bludgeoned them to death two days before and dragged them from one place of disposition to another, she might have put speed to her and Serge's burgeoning plans to flee Russia. It was certainly no place to be a Romanov, as her father, Grand Duke Paul, and several other trapped males of that august house would find, before a firing squad, the following year.
Marie, Serge, and his brother Aleck took leave of Tsarskoe Selo and Marie's father "and old Russia" on a 'beautiful summer day,"filled with those daisies and whirring grasshoppers and yellow butterflies that would bob and sing and flutter though a thousand more wars, revolutions, and assorted other man-made disasters tried to disturb their age-old serenity.
The fugitives left in late July. By November, having successfully crossed into German-controlled Ukraine and, following adventures in Kiev, made their way to Odessa, Marie and Serge realized it was time to leave Russia entirely. Accordingly, they fled to the court of Queen Marie of Romania, where the grand duchess without a home promptly fell ill with influenza. It was not an auspicious beginning to her exile, but at least she was alive.
Whether marquises and financiers fleeing revolutionary France or displaced barins and generals driven from soviet Russia, it was hard for exiles to accept that they wouldn't be returning home in the near future, to reclaim their old lives as best they could and repair the damage done by flirtation with radical politics. Many let treasures go for nothing because they didn't know the value of money'indeed, had never sold anything before, unless it was part of a forested estate or manor. They were, for the most part, confused by this sea-change. Marie and the few Romanovs who escaped with their lives after 1918 were no different. Grand Duke Aleksander Mikhailovich lived off the proceeds of his ancient coin collection. Prince Felix Yussupov managed to bring a pair of Rembrandts into exile. The Dowager Empress, famous for refusing to leave Yalta until all who wished to go were also taken aboard the British ships sent by George V to fetch his 'Aunt Minny', brought out a fortune in gorgeous gems and pearls.
Marie's first years of exile were financed by the jewels she had had smuggled to Sweden before escaping Russia. This selling off of what were some important pieces of imperial jewelry, important intrinsically and sentimentally, was one of the most trying of Marie's experiences as a refugee. But worse was to come: In a matter of months, she was greeted with news of her father's execution, then the death of her infant son, far away in Romania. The exhilaration of escaping Bolshevized Russia began to fade as her heart was made heavier by each new setback. But her pride allowed her no shifting of the weight, even in part, to other shoulders.
From Paris, Marie and Serge went to London, where she was reunited with her beloved brother Dmitri. Restless and wanting to be of use, Marie began knitting sweaters for sale; when her own clothes began to fall apart, she discovered a flair for dressmaking, not only for herself but for friends. But none of this helped ease the family exchequer. And there came another emotional reunion: In Paris, she visited Princess Paley, who had escaped to Finland in 1920. From her, amidst tears, she heard of her father's last days.
Partly because of Princess Paley, Serge and Marie decided to move back to Paris, where she found Serge a position in a bank. Later that year, Marie and Dmitri went to Copenhagen to see Marie's son, Prince Lennart, at twelve taller than his mother. They were destined to "meet like gipsies," in hotels and taxicabs, Marie wrote with some bitterness. Lennart himself was not sure what to make of this woman whom he barely knew, who spoke to him in "purest Swedish" and rode horses with him, but spent much of her time renewing the many friendships she had had when living in Sweden. Lennart was to see his mother on and off over the next six years, in visits which were made difficult by the crowds of Russian émigrés who surrounded her.
Then, until 1931, Marie's sojourns in America, and her efforts to make a living, effectively put their relationship on hold.
It says something for Marie's energy that in 1921, only three years after fleeing Russia and leaving virtually everything behind, she could found a Russian embroidery workshop in Paris which she called Kitmir, after a friend's pet lapdog, and not only make a go of it but draw as her most celebrated buyer the even then legendary Gabrielle ('Coco') Chanel.
Edmonde Charles-Roux, whom Chanel dubbed her official biographer, claims it was Coco who set up the workshop which became Kitmir, putting Marie 'in charge of it', but she also makes the curious statement that Dmitri, then Chanel's lover, was in some way the inspiration for the Russian fashions shown in 1921. (Chanel seems to have taken peculiar pleasure in making the former-greats of this world feel the pressure of her proletarian thumb.) Whatever Dmitri's real inspirational powers, most important for Marie and for her business was this brief but intense friendship with the prima donna assoluta of Paris couturières, from whom she learned something about what it would take to survive not only the fashion business but life as a satellite of Coco Chanel.
Though her first exposure to clothing design had been the afternoons watching her aunt Ella pore over French fashion magazines at Ilinskoie, clipping out illustrations she later adapted for herself, Marie learned her craft from the ground up, studying over machines in a factory and sitting up late fashioning designs. Sometimes she was so weary she had to wrap herself in her fur coat to doze on the workroom floor.
Kitmir flourished, with fifty women in the workroom and a staff of technicians and designers. Marie was to sit with Chanel on the famous staircase in the Rue Cambon salon, watching her embroidered blouses and jackets, hung on the frail forms of fine-boned models gain popularity on the runway, and her designs even won medals at expositions. But reality set in when she tried to broaden her professional horizons. At first hearing of Marie's 'treachery', Chanel grew wroth, wishing to be Kitmir's only client and to dictate to which couturiers Marie was to offer her wares (excluding the most important ones, Marie noted). Chanel, as usual, won the battle.
Marie certainly had other battles to deal with, specifically on the home front. Her relationship with Serge was not well. She claims in her memoirs that after the smoke of war and revolution had cleared, and she and Serge were living together on a more or less even keel, problems began to arise, which she chooses to explain as the result of having made an 'unequal union'. Marie's second marriage had started as a love-match in a photograph taken while still in Odessa, she and Serge dance rather gaily in a villa garden that is shortly to be overrun by squads of Bolsheviks. But though she smiles, Marie does seem out of place in the hands of the dashing, athletic Serge. What did she, foster child of Uncle Serge and Aunt Ella, know of maintaining a healthy marriage? In addition to the unexplained inequalities, Marie only reveals that she disliked Serge's habit of purchasing and 'ruining"one car after another, adding that some bad investments using money from Marie's jewels only increased the sourness between them. Far from Russia and the cataclysm that had brought them together, they drew farther apart.
Divorce came in 1923, and with it a certain sense of freedom for Marie. She introduced her brother to the American heiress, Audrey Emery, and their engagement was greeted by Marie with a great sigh of relief: at last her beloved Dmitri could live without fear of the wolf at the door, and Marie had gained a fond sister-in-law in the bargain. She was present at the christening of their son 'Paulie"(perhaps better known as Mayor Paul Ilyinsky of Palm Beach, Florida), and spent time with the new family she had helped create, but soon returned to Paris, where Kitmir was slowly but surely wasting away.
To Marie, perfume and music were interchangeable, and in Kitmir's wake she gained enthusiasm for a new line: as parfumière. But again, success that seemed within reach eluded her Kniaz Igor, like its 10th century namesake, started off promising and came to a dark end. With the death of the Dowager Empress in October, 1928, Marie felt need of a big change in her life'and what better place to go for change than America? She took ship in December, and after docking in New York, Marie and an American friend headed for California, where they spent three weeks on a ranch from which Marie could see alternately the blue mass of the Pacific Ocean and grassy hills rolling down to the sea. It was like living on another planet, she confessed. (Marie's cousin Grand Duke Aleksander Mikhailovich thought so, too, relating a strange conversation with an Angeleno, at about this time, who couldn't believe he didn't have a family name. 'Didn't you folks have a last name of some description?" As Aleksander dryly replied, "I confessed that there was a last name in our family but that a well-established custom precluded our being addressed by that name." This didn't satisfy, and the grand duke realized he had no business contradicting the American custom that everyone should have a last name. After all, "I know of no kingdom or empire where the worshipping of titles, blue blood, and glorified ancestors ever achieved the importance it enjoys at present in the United States.") It was in Los Angeles that a Princess Galitzine, sister-in-law of Prince Vassili Aleksandrovich, met Marie, and remembered her being 'very charming, very cosy'. Marie was thawing out in the California sun, but her financial situation was, unknown to her hosts, getting colder and colder.
America did seem to open doors, slowly but surely, for Marie. Once back in New York, she was offered jobs with top couturières, and a publisher showed interest in her reminiscences (translated from French and Russian into English). Returning to Europe, Marie tied up loose ends and said good-bye to Princess Paley, her last connection with the old generation from Russia. (Princess Paley died of complications of cancer in November, 1929.) Then, with three hundred dollars on her person, a portable typewriter, and a Russian guitar, she set forth to conquer New York, so soon to be overpowered itself by the Great Depression.
Marie's memoirs, The Education of a Princess and A Princess in Exile, published by Viking Press in 1930 and 1932, were highly successful, and she signed many copies with a purple flourish. But what next? She had a living to make, at a time when former Wall Street millionaires were selling apples on streetcorners'a familiar sight for one who had lived as a "former-person" under the Bolsheviks.
One talent Marie seemed to constantly improve was her ability to charm sometimes perfect strangers, although the exquisite portrait painter and fellow ÚmigrÚe aristocrat Elly Shoumatoff (for whom Marie had sat in 1930) felt one of Marie's less positive talents was for getting involved with 'undesirable people'. When among her friends, Marie was warm and funny; but when 'pulling rank', in the words of Mme Shoumatoff's grandson, writer Alex Shoumatoff, the grand duchess could run the gamut from mildly annoying to sadly 'pathetic'.
Mostly, it was the charm that came through, along with that enduring desire to make a living, and a reputation, in the fields of creativity. She was hired by Bergdorf Goodman to serve as a 'vendeuse' in the spare showrooms behind the store's 5th Avenue marble facade. (Kay Summersby, wartime aide to Dwight D. Eisenhower, was another Bergdorf 'vendeuse'.) This may have been a far cry from her days as executive of Kitmir in Paris, but the position at least allowed her to keep a foot in the door of New York's great couturiers'and who knew whether she would not try again to recapture the magic of her partnership with Chanel?
A talented photographer with a sensitive eye, Marie also found employment as a photo journalist for the Hearst Press, part of which involved the perk of taking cruises on luxury liners and reporting on the nautical adventures of noted first class deck society. On one of her transatlantic trips between Europe and New York, just after the outbreak of World War II in 1939, a young American college senior who met Marie on the Ile de France remembered a woman with "a great sense of humor and a great flair about her and charisma." Though far from being an introvert, Marie came off unassuming. 'She wasn't a precious cafÚ society type but a very warm human being,"remembered the college student from tourist class. "She was so generous and kind to us, whom she'd never met before. We practically never set foot in tourist because of her!" Though the grand duchess was nearly fifty, 'She seemed ageless'in the prime of her life." It was the perfect job for her with her command of languages, her social connections and verve, her eye that never missed a thing, Marie should have done very well for herself. That is, had she been a good ten to twenty years younger. This life on the unsteady surface of the seas was a symbol literal and figurative of Marie's precarious existence - having no husband or any sort of security beyond what she made from her work, she had no safety net whatever. She was, indeed, coming into that second exile known best to those who, through life's vagaries or their own, find themselves suddenly alone at a time when rest, peace, and affection should have begun to grow on trees planted young. Marie had never planted any'she never thought she had to'and now, as winter loomed, it is conceivable she found herself ready to put in at any harbor that would take her.
It was on this trip to New York that Marie met up with another Russian emigree, Comtesse Elisabeth de Brunière, whose sister she knew from Greenwich, CT. Mme de Brunière and her sister, born Princesses Tar½sova, were originally from Moscow, where they had been educated in the dizzyingly polyglot fashion de rigeur among the Russian aristocracy. Mme de Brunière had with her a daughter, Odette, and at the time Marie met her Mme de Brunière's home base was Buenos Aires, whence she traveled as part of her work setting up a salon and representing Elizabeth Arden there. According to Odette, from the moment they met Marie and Mme de Brunière "got along beautifully."
Jacques Ferrand writes that Marie left the United States as a kind of protest against President Franklin Roosevelt's decision to provide arms and matÚriel to the Soviets, then fighting Nazi Germany. It appears more likely she did so because she and Mme de Brunière had devised a plan to combine Mme de Brunière's Elizabeth Arden experience and connections and Marie's yen to make a name in the cosmetics business (likely influenced by Chanel's fabulous success with 'No. 5'). Their shared charisma, elegance and background made the arrangement seem a perfect fit.
The two women and the girl booked passage on the S.S. Argentina, the last ship to leave the States before the declaration of war. Several days into the journey, the engines stopped and the boat stood still in a listless stretch of ocean. Odette remembered how everyone was called on deck and required to don lifejackets, for the ostensible reason that a propeller, having struck the dock leaving New York harbor, needed repair. Later on, when the ship docked in Buenos Aires, Marie and Mme de Brunière discovered that this extraordinary nautical stage business was due to the presence of a U-boat, hovering in the S.S. Argentina's near vicinity. For a time, Odette recalled, 'We were sitting ducks."It was not a promising first act for Marie's new Argentinean drama.
With Marie effectively moving into the Brunière household in Buenos Aires, a larger apartment had to be found, and Marie was soon busy, setting up offices for herself and Mme de Brunière to work in. Mme de Brunière left Elizabeth Arden to collaborate with Marie on a line of cosmetics called 'The Grand Duchess Marie of Russia presents the Productos Igor', each bottle emblazoned with the imperial double-headed eagle. (The ghost of that unfortunate Rurikid prince was obviously still hovering in Marie's mind.)
"My mother had by then acquired a laboratory," remembered Odette, "and they were making their own products, manufacturing them. The Grand Duchess was happily ever after part of my life", even to signing Odette's report cards when her mother was not at home (and signing herself 'Grande Duchesse Marie de Russie').
Marie's disaffection for children had undergone no change in the years since her own brief motherhood. Odette was required to curtsy and address her each morning as 'Votre Altesse', but try though she might, she could not get close to a woman who, through her experiences and her personality, exercised such great though fearful fascination for the child living with her.
This strained but well-mannered relationship would be put greatly to the test when the telephone rang one afternoon and Odette, knowing the maid, and certainly Marie, would not pick up, answered it. It was March, 1942. The call was from Switzerland. "It was from her brother's sanitorium - her brother Dmitri." Marie had been getting calls every now and then regarding her brother's health, and it was obvious to Odette that Marie "absolutely worshipped the ground that this man walked on."
"I called her" Odette remembered, and said, "Votre Altesse, the phone is for you, it's from Switzerland." She went to the phone, and then she came out of the library, and I will never forget it. A blank stare. Eyes absolutely glazed with tears."Marie had just found out that her brother had died (from uremia.) Odette was afraid - her mother was out that afternoon - and she had no one to shield her from a woman whose behavior was already frightening to her and all the more so now. But she realized through her fears that the grand duchess's "last link" had been broken before her eyes: "I have never seen anyone so devastated."
Marie had not been unhappy in Buenos Aires. Odette remembered 'a very heavy beau', an Argentinean 'milk king', whom Marie saw in a serious way. "We even thought there would be a wedding" that he was the knight in shining armor who would take her away and care for her."But after Dmitri's death, his sister's life seemed to be over already, at fifty-two. Odette's over-riding impression, despite the passage of years, had never changed: Dmitri was the only person whom Marie had ever really loved.
In August, Mme de Brunière went to the United States to attend the wedding of her sister. The United States then entered the war, and Mme de Brunière found that wartime regulations prevented her from returning to Argentina, a neutral zone. Odette was thus alone with the grand duchess for several months, no easy situation for a girl for whom Marie had proved an untouchable presence at the best of times.
It was soon apparent that Mme de Brunière was not coming back; the apartment had to be let go. Odette packed as many of their things as she could. Marie found herself a flat, taking with her some furnishings from the Brunière apartment, leaving Odette to wander from friend to friend until she could get back to the States. It was no tragedy when Marie regretfully (and perhaps predictably) informed Odette that there was not room for her in her new flat. "It was difficult to live with her," Odette recalls. "Very formal. There were no embraces, there was just a reverence, and you did it every day - "Bonjour, Votre Altesse' and "Bon soir, Votre Altesse'. You had to live with that." In January 1943 (Argentina's summer), Odette was eventually reunited with her mother in the States, after being stopped at various points en route and asked, rather strangely, why she and her mother had lived with Grand Duchess Marie of Russia. How did the customs officials know this? Odette was to ask herself for years afterward. And what did it matter to them?
Marie's South American adventure did not end with the break-up of the Brunière household. She stayed on in Buenos Aires, where Lennart, while in South America on business, came to see her after the war. Ill in body and finances, Marie had nevertheless lost none of her extraordinary energy (she was still trying to help stray ÚmigrÚs as much as ever) nor her keen memories of the past. Sitting in her little apartment in the Calle Posadas, she spoke to Lennart of her relationship with his father, in that Swedish whose lapses of vocabulary were filled in with English, of her struggles with divorce, revolution, and the loss of her beloved brother, for whom, it was Lennart's opinion, his mother had felt a love that excluded from her heart the possibility of anyone else ever taking his place. She wished for only one thing, Lennart felt: to be united with Dmitri in death as they had been in life. He was to remember that wish.
While Marie seems not to have put much store by psychic phenomena - at least, she mentions nothing of the sort in her published memoirs - she does record in The Education of a Princess an incident that seems to oddly foretell her future. Ill with diphtheria at Ilinskoie and tended by her aunt Ella'the only time Marie saw Ella with her eyes "unguarded" the little girl had fanciful hallucinations. Spots on the ceiling, designs on the walls, meshed into pictures which unfolded into stories before her eyes. In one of these, she saw a lake dotted with pale ships, weaving their sails among little islands, with trees and clouds passing by. At one point, she saw a tall iron gate, behind which she glimpsed "a magnificent palace" set down in a garden of flowers.
A better description of flower-strewn Schloss Mainau, the island home of her son, Count Lennart, on Lake Constance, could scarcely be found; and this is where Marie, having left Argentina, was taken in by her son, where she lived until the latter 1950's. In some ways it was like having a stranger in the house: Count Bernadotte, too, still smarted, as his mother did, from those hurried visits in hotel salons and taxis. His mother brought with her some curious baggage, including a sewing machine, a typewriter, and complex photography equipment, mixed in with her wardrobe, books and 'numerous manuscripts'. The chairs in her salon were piled high with her beloved books, occasioning frequent and dramatic toppling.
The woman named Marie was steered clear of by her own grandchildren, and her son recalled how she insisted on reigning as the grand duchess even in his home, despite the fact that she "had forsaken my father and me" so many years before. The woman who had married one commoner herself, and seemed interested in another in Buenos Aires years later, had picked a fight with Lennart in 1931, over his marriage to his first wife, Karin Nisvandt. Despite having all but arranged Dmitri's marriage to the rich but hardly blue-blooded Audrey Emery, Marie seems to have shared with her brother her misgivings over Lennart's choice of bride, because when she, Dmitri and Lennart were together in London at the time of the engagement, Marie did a good deal of muttering with her brother in Russian'a language Lennart did not understand'and later, when she had Lennart alone, heaped every abuse on Karin's family she could summon.
Even years later, when Lennart sat with his mother in her little garden in Buenos Aires, and mentioned with laughter the hopes his grandmother had had for his marriage to some 'charming princess', Marie's ready smile soured: she, too, would have preferred he had married a charming princess. What was behind this attitude of hers, which judged so rigorously what she herself had freely done? Was it the harsh criticism of one's self and others that seemed to come, like blue eyes and fair hair, to all the children of Aleksander II, even her mild-mannered father? Was it that her pride had never been matched by the reality of her circumstances'that her first husband was not the heir to the Swedish throne but a younger son on whose dry ground the seeds of her charm fell and died, that her second husband's allure was constructed from nothing but that very turbulence which had driven them both out of Russia at peril of their lives, and faded as they sold jewels, watched bills pile up, and bitterly remembered what had been lost?
We may never be able to plumb the depths of this woman, one of the most complex personalities ever thrown up by the Romanov family. Yet with all the contumely Marie brought with her to Mainau, scaring the children with her tactless remarks on their behavior and harboring dissension toward her daughter-in-law, Count Bernadotte proved that in the end, blood is thicker than water. Having suffered for the past decade from increasingly painful sclerosis and other maladies, Marie fell seriously ill with pneumonia in December of 1958 and never left her bed again. She died on the 15th of that month, in the Constance clinic where her son had taken her, aged 68 years and eight months, less than half of her life having been spent in a Russia that by the 1950's was the stuff of legend.
Marie had wished to die at Easter-time, "to the accompaniment of soft spring sounds, eternally young, eternally joyous." This was denied her, but Count Bernadotte saw to it that in death his mother was united with the one person her wary heart seems to have loved most genuinely in life. In a simple, solemn ceremony, the remains of Grand Duke Dmitri of Russia were buried together with those of his sister, in the crypt under the chapel of snow-covered Schloss Mainau. In giving his mother this final honor, her son expressed the hope that she had found the peace she had sought. In truth, Marie had found both that flower-covered palace and her knight in shining armor at last.
Alexander, Grand Duke of Russia, Always a Grand Duke, Garden City 1933 '', Once a Grand Duke, Garden City 1932
Balsan, Consuelo Vanderbilt, The Glitter and the Gold, Harper 1952
Bernadotte, Count Lennart, Gute Nacht, kleiner Prinz, Blanvalet Verlag, Munich Charles-Roux, Edmonde, Chanel, Collins-Harvill 1989
De Robien, Louis, The Diary of a Diplomat in Russia 1917-1918, Praeger Publishers 1970
Ferrand, Jacques, Le Grand-Duc Paul Aleksandrovich de Russie, sa famille, sa d$#233;scendance, Paris 1993
Johnston, Robert H., New Mecca, New Babylon: Paris and the Russian Exiles, 1920-1945, McGill-Queen's University Press, Montreal 1988
Madsen, Axel, Chanel, Henry Holt 1990
Marie, Grand Duchess of Russia, The Education of a Princess, Viking Press 1930 '', A Princess in Exile, Viking Press 1932
Massie, Suzanne, Pavlovsk: The Life of a Russian Palace, Little, Brown 1990
Mossolov, Aleksander A., At the Court of the Last Tsar, Methuen 1935
Shoumatoff, Alex, Russian Blood, Vintage 1990
Additional information courtesy of Carl Reeves Close, Marina Dakserhof, Mayor Paul Ilyinsky, Alexander Kugushev, Peter Kurth, Marion Mienert, David Richardson, Odette Terrel des Chenes and Nancy Wynkoop.
California-born Grant Menzies currently resides in Portland, Oregon, where he serves as freelance classical music reviewer for The Oregonian. He writes on music and European history for a number of local and national publications, and is currently at work on a biography of émigrée poet and memoirist Olga Ilyin, along with several other projects dealing with the pre-revolutionary period. He may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org
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§ Whereupon Mr. DEPUTY-SPEAKER, pursuant to the Order of the House of the '22nd February, proposed the Question, "That this House do now adjourn."
§ 9.0 P.M.
Mr. EDMUND HARVEY
I desire to bring to the attention of the House the action of certain tribunals. In doing so I must ask indulgence for bringing before it a subject which has been discussed from time to time at intervals. I am well aware 1250 that it is not easy to raise this subject at a time when the thought of the country is occupied with the grave military situation and the measures taken to meet it. At the same time I feel that it is so important that Acts of Parliament that have been passed, with a reliance on the good faith of their administration, should be carried out in the spirit in which they were framed, that it is necessary to bring to the attention of the House two particular cases of serious injustice which are not only important for the men immediately concerned, but significant because they are instances in each case of the ways in which tribunals have been acting in a spirit which I am sure Parliament did not intend. Unfortunately, the position is made very difficult for tribunals at present in dealing with the case of the conscientious objector, because not only have they to face in many cases adverse public opinion, but they are from time to time confronted by men who claim to be conscientious objectors without having sufficient reason, and who make their claim a cloak for getting out of a position of difficulty. One can understand the indignation which is caused by action of this kind. But, however strongly we all feel that men like that are to be reprobated, the existence of men who use the machinery of the law unfairly should not be allowed to prejudice the case of a sincere man who holds extremely unpopular views and whose position is affected by the very fact that his views are unpopular.
The first case which I have to bring before the House is one in which the tribunal has referred the case of a conscientious objector, which it recognised to be genuine, to the Committee on Work of National Importance in order that the Committee may recommend suitable work for the man, and then, when the recommendation has been made by the Committee, the tribunal, dissatisfied with their recommendation, has not suggested any alternative and has not referred the case back to the Committee for further recommendation, but has placed the man in an entirely different position by refusing to allow him to engage in work of national importance and exempting him from combatant service only. That has happened, fortunately, in only a few cases hitherto. The tribunals have made large use of this Committee, and have referred between 1,000 and 2,000 cases to it, and have in only a few cases 1251 disagreed with the Committee. They are entitled to disagree, no doubt, when they are masters of their own decisions, but it is important, when they disagree with the decisions or recommendations of this Committee, that they should not visit their displeasure on the unfortunate men. In this case, Mr. Malcolm Sparkes is a lifelong member of the Society of Friends, and highly esteemed by the members of that society. He was managing director of a firm making woodwork for the building trade, or builders' fittings. On the outbreak of the War his firm, in which he had not a controlling interest, decided to do war work and make packing-cases for the Ministry of Munitions. He resigned his position as managing director as a protest, not feeling able to keep it in the new circumstances, but his firm was doing a large amount of civilian work, and in this they still continued to employ him. He was offered a badge, but he declined it, and when he came before the tribunal he was recommended for work of national importance to the Pelham Committee. That Committee, after carefully considering the case, decided to approve and to recommend him to the local tribunal for whole time voluntary work under the direction of an educational trust, in which his time was to be devoted to the study of the relations of employers and employed in the particular trade in which Mr. Sparkes has special experience, and to do practical work in promoting better relations. It was work which undoubtedly, if successful, would have been of great value to the community.
The tribunal did not feel satisfied with this work, and, having decided that it did not approve of it, they called Mr. Sparkes, who had already undertaken this work at the suggestion of the Pelham Committee, and they informed him that they had decided not to approve it. They put him back into the Non-Combatant Corps, and they put him there after he had been previously exempted from all military service. Mr. Sparkes endeavoured to induce them to consider his position, and he sought to put his case before them, but they told him that before he had come into the room they had already discussed and decided the matter, and they could not reopen it. That placed him in what the House must feel was a very unfair position. He appealed to the Appeal Tribunal to give consideration to his case so far as this particular work was concerned, but 1252 they also decided that however good the work was they could not recommend it as of national importance, and simply confirmed the decision of the local tribunal. Neither tribunal appeared to consider for a moment the obvious course of referring the case back to the committee to which it was originally referred for a further recommendation, and with a view to the consideration of other forms of work of national importance which might have met with their approval. Dissatisfied with the particular work suggested by the Pelham Committee, they at once, without considering any other alternative, decided that this gentleman must be exempted from combatant service only. The only result of that is to place this man, who is of the highest character, in a position in which he can only, in obedience to his conscience, be prepared, if necessary, to go to prison. Ultimately, no doubt, in that event he would come before the Central Tribunal, to which he is not allowed leave to appeal. I submit that from the point of view of the Local Government Board and of the War Office a situation like that is unsatisfactory. It is most undesirable that the military representative and the tribunal should force a man into a form of exemption which is to him no exemption at all, and compel him to choose between being unfaithful to his convictions, which were intended to be respected by Parliament, and the alternative of having to defy the law or the application of it.
The second case I want to bring before the attention of the House is one where the injustice is perhaps even greater, and where it is still more difficult, no doubt, to get a remedy that would bring to the tribunals concerned a different spirit in dealing with these cases. Unfortunately, in different parts of the country, and before different appeal tribunals, in numbers of cases a man has been; exempted by the local tribunals from combatant service only, and feeling that he could not accept that form of exemption as adequate to his sincere belief, he has appealed against it to the Appeal Tribunal, who, without having any definite evidence to show in any way that he was insincere, decided not merely to dismiss his claim, but to take away his exemption altogether, and put him in the fighting ranks. Unfortunately there is a great number of these cases in different parts of the country, and some of the men to whom the greatest injustice has been 1253 done have already proved their sincerity by going through the fire, or through the unpleasant ordeal that many of them have to suffer in the Army, until eventually they are court-martialled and come before the Central Tribunal, to which in vain they had asked leave to appeal before, and being found to be sincere, conscientious objectors, have been handed over to the civil authority. In this second case there is a particularly serious injustice, and it occurred only last week in the section of the County of London Appeal Tribunal which sits at Spring Gardens—a section which has an unenviable notoriety in dealing with these cases. The other sections of the London Appeal Tribunal have shown great care, and as a rule have displayed a conspicuous desire to be just in dealing with very difficult claims. This particular section to which I refer unfortunately more than once has acted in this way.
The claim which came before them was one by an artist named Mr. Lawrence Deller, who appeared as a conscientious objector, with the result that he was placed in a difficult position. The Kensington Tribunal was satisfied as to his claim as a conscientious objector and granted him exemption from combatant service only, which they considered adequate. He appealed in order to get fuller exemption, and the Appeal Tribunal dismissed his claim altogether. They had had no evidence to justify that decision, and they did not discuss or deal with his conscientious position at all. It was so obviously unfair that they could not refuse the claim that he made for a rehearing, which was granted a few days afterwards, and the rehearing came on last week. I want to give the House a brief resume of the way in which this tribunal dealt with the question whether or not the man had a sincere conscientious objection. Naturally, the applicant had been prepared to bring to that tribunal evidence of his sincerity. He thought the best way he could do so was to bring written evidence from men whose honour could not be doubted, who differed from his views, but knew him well. He also prepared himself to make what sacrifice he could. He hunted round in the few days that intervened, and in an out of the way part in the West of England, where labour was badly needed, a farmer was willing and eager to receive his help. With that he came to the tribunal; he laid before them his letters, and they were 1254 read. I propose to read them to the House to show the House the kind of evidence produced, which I should have thought to any man of honour would be fully satisfactory, but which this tribunal brushed aside. The first was from his late headmaster, Mr. Cooper, the Headmaster of Lichfield Grammar School, who wrote:Mr. Lawrence Deller has asked me to give my views on his personal character. I have no hesitation in stating from my knowledge of him as a boy at school, and from my subsequent intercourse with him, that any opinions he now holds are the result of definite, conscientious reasoning, and that he is unbiassed by any physical or material considerations. I may add that my own views are strongly opposed to those he has expressed to me.Mr. Deller formed his views while at school during the Boer War, and has ever since held them firmly. The next letter was from the Bishop of Lichfield; and if the tribunal threw aside, as of no account, the opinion of the headmaster, they might at least have respected the opinion of that eminent man. His letter was as follows:Mr. Lawrence Deller is well known to me, I have a thorough knowledge of his character, and am convinced that he is trustworthy and sincere. I differ absolutely and entirely from him in his views on military questions, but I feel it is only due to him to give my testimony to his worth, and to ask that his case may be reheard and reconsidered."'The third letter was from the man's father, as follows:I regret my inability to attend in person, but I ask you to kindly allow me to bear testimony to the absolute sincerity of my son's claim for exemption as a conscientious objector. His objection to the taking of human life, or the helping of others to do so, is the result of his study of the Bible. My son has always been of a deeply, studious, sensitive and religious temperament. His determination to obey only God's laws and the teachings of Christ as he understands them, to keep true to his faith with God's help, has his mother's and my support. We recognise and admit that it is the duty of everyone, both by sacrifice and work, to render all aid possible to our country. This can be done without violating one's principles, or religious convictions, and my son is willing to give up for the time his profession and home in London, and he has in fact already obtained promise of employment on a farm, thus devoting his time and labour to food production, the most vital necessity to the community. Thus he can serve his country and not violate his principles. I trust your tribunal will now grant him the certificate of exemption, to which I feel he is entitled under the Act.(Signed)"WILLIAM DELLER.There was also a letter from the farmer, stating, owing to the need for labour, his willingness to accept his services. On the reading of those letters the Chairman of the tribunal turned to Mr. Deller, and asked what fresh evidence he had to place before the tribunal to show his sincerity. Mr. Deller replied that those letters were his evidence. The Chairman glanced at them and said, "They merely show you are telling the truth. We want evidence to 1255 show you are more like Christ than other men." Mr. Deller replied that he tried to endeavour to follow Christ's teaching, and that his life was the only evidence. He added, "Could any great dignitary of the Church answer such a question in any other way?" A member of the tribunal then sharply said, "You are not here to ask questions, but to answer them." Mr. Deller then said that it seemed to him that the only proof the tribunal would accept of his sincerity would be his going to prison for his principles. The chairman rejoined, "You are threatening the tribunal." Mr. Deller pleaded with them earnestly to allow him to undertake the farm work that he had secured and was willing to do, and said that it was surely for the good of the country that he should be doing work like that, rather than that he should go to prison. It meant him giving up his home and studio in London, and the making of a big financial sacrifice. He would have to rent a little cottage on the farm and live on the labourer's wage of from 16s. to 20s. per week. "Yes," said the chairman, "You are willing to make that sacrifice to save yourself a greater." Another member of the tribunal said, "You would go and steal off the land what others are fighting to protect." The chairman then went on, "What have you done all your life?" "Painting," was the reply. "Yes; for money," said the Chairman. "Of course," said Mr. Deller, "it is my livelihood." The tribunal went on to contrast his position with that of the Christadelphians and Plymouth Brethren, who were making constant sacrifices every day in following Christ. They said, "It is all very well for those men, but you, a member of the Church of England, what business have you to be in this position?" I think it is quite evident if he had been a member of one of those bodies the tribunal might have considered his claim and granted him exemption, but because he was not a member of a body holding these peculiar views his personal individual convictions went for nothing, even when they were backed up by a bishop of high esteem, by his headmaster who had known him since boyhood, and by the father who spoke in the name of both parents. All that was of no effect in the eyes of the tribunal.
What was the attitude of the military representative? One would imagine that if he concurred in the view that the man 1256 was insincere, he would have made it his business to find evidence of his insincerity, and that he might have brought proof to show that in his past life Mr. Deller held entirely different views. The only part he took in the tribunal was to intervene in the spirit of a sixteenth century theologian. He asked Mr. Deller, could he explain the text in Numbers "Shall your brethren go to war, and shall ye sit here?" No doubt that was a very clever debating society point, but is that a point to make by which to test the sincerity of a man's religious conscientious convictions? Mr. Deller replied, very naturally, I think, that he could not explain it without knowing the context, and the military representative then said, "You say you know the Bible, and I would be glad to know." It was the last case before the tribunal, and at the conclusion Mr. Deller and his wife came back into the Court and went up to the military representative. Mr. Deller said to him he would be glad if he would let him know the text and the reference which he had quoted against him, so that he might explain his position. The military representative said, "You know the Bible, Numbers 32, 6. What about ' Vengeance is mine'"? "Yes," said Mrs. Deller, "'Vengeance is mine saith the Lord,' not man's." Mrs. Deller then asked what her position would be if her husband remained faithful to his principles. The military representative replied, "If he fights you will get the separation allowance; if not, you will get nothing, so he has got to fight." Mr. Deller said, "Whatever you, or the tribunal say, nothing can alter God's law, 'Thou shalt not kill.'" "God's law be damned; go and fight," said the military representative. That was not said in the tribunal.
§ The FINANCIAL SECRETARY to the WAR OFFICE (Mr. Forster)
Do I understand my hon. Friend to say that that was in the course of the proceedings before the tribunal?
I was just saying that that was not in the tribunal. It was after the conclusion of the sitting. Mr. Deller had returned to speak to the military representative who, he felt had been so unfair, to get his point of view explained, and that was the spirit in which this excellent gentleman, as I have no doubt he is in many other ways, dealt with one who claimed to be a conscientious objector on religious grounds. I do not know this gentleman at all. I have no doubt he is highly qualified to meet the Germans on 1257 their own ground. No doubt he is a very excellent soldier, but I think that a man who would meet a claimant in that spirit is not a man to judge at all of a religious objection to military service. He would have done much better to have kept absolutely silent throughout the proceedings, and it would have been far better from the point of view of the War Office if he had said quite plainly that, however much the War Office wanted every man who was willing and able to fight, they did not want men thrust into the Army who would only cause embarrassment and difficulty to the Army itself. I think that is a point that we can ask the War Office and the Local Government Board to make clearer to the tribunals and to the military representatives. It is no use forcing into the Army men who will only cause trouble and difficulty and the injustice of whose treatment, when Parliament has provided an exemption to meet their needs, arouses indignation amongst people who by no means share their view. This man is known and respected by men who differ entirely from him. He is a quiet, meditative, religious minded man, whose objection is based purely on religious grounds, and yet he has been treated in this abominable way by the tribunal and the military representative. He is now left with only one possibility of proving his sincerity, and that is by defying the way in which the law has been administered and showing in the face of a court martial that he is sincere, and eventually, under the arrangement which has been made, coming over to the Brace Committee. It is wasting the time of the Army and doing very serious injustice that such procedure should go on. I want to read a few words spoken by Brigadier-General Child in September last at the Stratford Police Court. He is the Director of Personal Services and the head of the punishment section of the Army. He was asked by the Public Prosecutor:Do you have in the Army considerable difficulty with those who raise the question of conscientious objection to military service?Certainly. The amount of extra work which this has caused the Army is very great indeed. There have been seventeen hundred courts-martial.Think of the time wasted and the amount of irritation and difficulty caused. The chairman of the Court evidently realised that, for he said:May I suggest that the Press take very careful notice of this, because it might influence tribunals not to send men into the ranks who are likely to cause this trouble.This is a very serious trouble to the Army, and still military representatives and 1258 tribunals are compassing heaven and earth to force into the Army one conscientious objector. They are spending hours and hours of time and trouble in some of these cases in order to force into the Army men who will never be of the slightest use to the Army, but only cause difficulty and have to prove their sincerity by their sufferings. It is very hard indeed for Government Departments to deal with individual cases of injustice and hardship. I know how great pains they have taken to do what they can, and how very often they regret action of this kind. But I ask, even if it is not possible to remedy the injustice which has been done—and I believe it ought to be possible to take some steps—that at least the Departments concerned should make it clear that they do not want this kind of thing to go on, that they want a different spirit and a different attitude to be adopted by the tribunals in general and by the military representatives. If that could be made perfectly clear from the point of view both of the Local Government Board and of the War Office, the country and the Army would be saved these very painful scenes; we should also be able to feel that the Act of Parliament was being carried out in the spirit in which it was framed and that injustice as far as possible would be avoided.
Mr. LLEWELYN WILLIAMS
I think the whole House must have been impressed by the speech to which we have just listened. My hon. Friend is a man who has done a good service to his country. He belongs to a religious persuasion which looks upon all war as an evil thing. Therefore, he has a claim to be heard in this matter such as I and other Members do not possess. I cannot say I have any sympathy with the view of conscientious objectors in regard to this War, but I have an understanding of their position because I was brought up in the same persuasion as my hon. Friend. Therefore, though I have lapsed from grace in this regard, I still remember the teachings of my youth, and I know how some good honest people regard all war. My hon. Friend has dealt with cases which must have brought home to every man who is capable of judging the real meaning of the position into which we have brought ourselves. I could supplement the cases he has given by other cases if professional etiquette allowed, but as I was engaged as Counsel I cannot. Those cases are not few; they are many. They are not local; they are distributed all 1259 over the country. In the interests of this country—if the prosecution of the War is a thing that is in the interests of this country—the attention of Parliament ought to be directed to this question, and the Government ought to put a stop to the injustices and inequalities which exist.
I may bring to the notice of the Financial Secretary one case only as illustrative of the sort of thing that is going on all over the country. In my own Constituency there is a theological college which was started in the year 1662 by an old Cromwellian Independent. It was not actually in Carmarthen itself but in Bridgend. It has survived many changes, and it is now called the Presbyterian College of Carmarthen. The system under which the college is governed is this: In June of every year an examination is held for students who seek admission to the college. In June, 1914, a month before the War broke out, certain students who for a long time had been preparing for the ministry, sought admission to the college by examination. They did not, as a matter of fact, enter the college till September, 1914, a month after the War had broken out. Last August five of these students were called to the Colours. Every one of them was a conscientious objector. Every one of them will refuse to accept military service. Yet these five men, four of them students for the Congregational Ministry, and the other a student for a Baptist Ministry, are to be forced against their will into the Army.
I have brought the matter before the notice of the War Office. I have waited upon Lord Derby. I have waited upon my right hon. Friend the Secretary of State for War, who knows the circumstances under which ministerial students are admitted into college quite as well as I do. What is the reply? The reply is an absolute non possumus. These men, simply because they were admitted into the college in September, 1914, although they had passed their examination in June or July, are not to be classed as students for the ministry because the War Office, in its infinite wisdom, says they were not in immediate preparation for the ministry. Why should such a decision be taken? In no other theological college in this land are students treated in that way. I am told, on what I believe to be excellent authority, that in every 1260 theological college in England students who entered in September, 1914, are exempt. I can vouch for the fact that in every theological college in Wales, with the exception of Carmarthen, every theological student who was there in September, 1914, has been exempted. Yet the tribunal in Carmarthen has sent these men, against their will, into the Army. Though the attention of the right hon. Gentleman who is at the head of the War Office—presumably at the head of the War Office, for I do not know how far he is at the head of the War Office—has been called to this, and though the attention of Lord Derby has been called to it, nothing has been done. All the satisfaction that I have been able to elicit from the War Office is that if it should be proved that other theological students in other parts of Wales or England have been exempted under similar circumstances, steps will be taken to bring them also into the Army.
I am glad to see present hon. Members from Ireland. I hope they will attend all these Debates. There is a proposal to extend Conscription to Ireland. Let them understand how this country is being treated under Conscription. I hope it will strengthen their resolution to put a stop to this evil. I would like to ask my right hon. Friends who are at the moment sitting on the Front Bench what they have to say to these things? I will say this for the War Office: Whenever I have, in matters of the sort, approached the military side of the War Office, they have always been most courteous, and have proved far most sympathetic to civilian grievances. I have been assured by military men in the War Office that they do not want conscientious objectors in the Army. I can well understand why. As my hon. Friend said, what is the good of men going into the Army who proclaim beforehand that they are not going to obey military orders? What is the good of men of that sort in the Army? Do they add to the strength of the Army in the slightest degree? Not a bit of it! And the military men at the War Office have taken that view. I have always received most sympathetic consideration whenever I have approached any of these gentlemen, and I have nothing to say against them in regard to that point. But I do urge upon hon. Members, if they are not going to abrogate every function history has given to them, if the House is not: going to give up its right to be the 1261 supreme arbiter in this matter, that this House now, after two years of military rule, should say that common sense shall prevail, and that these men shall not be forced into the Army, not to strengthen but to weaken it. I would ask my Friend to, at all events, pay some attention to the specific matter brought before him.
§ Sir W. BYLES
I am entirely in agreement with the previous speakers in this Debate. I want to draw attention to one point which I think shows absolute stupidity on the part of the tribunals. That is putting men who are doing good and useful work, helpful to the community, to work which they are not in the least accustomed or adapted to do. I have a young relative who is a conscientious objector. He has been the manager of a mill making excellent cloth—I believe some of it on Government contracts. He has been turned down and told that he must go and milk cows at some adjacent farm. I cannot think of anything more stupid than that. I have many other cases on the papers which I hold here. There is the case of a shipping clerk who lives close to my division. He was first refused all exemption by the local tribunal, but granted exemption from combatant service by the Appeal Tribunal. The latter advised that exemption should be granted on condition that the applicant took up agricultural work. Such work was secured. After three weeks the man broke down, the local doctor certifying that his heart was affected and that he was not fitted for heavy agricultural work.
The judge of the Appeal Tribunal, Mr. Mellor, admitted that it was illogical and wasteful to take a man from work in which he was skilled. But that is what we are doing! Some sacrifice, it is said, must be made by conscientious objectors. Therefore occurs the transference from a man's own usual work to work for which he is utterly unadapted. This, I suppose, is meant as a penal infliction upon him and not in the interests of the nation. Here is the case of a Bachelor of Science who also lives close to my Constituency. He was a teacher in a council school and engaged also in the Manchester School of Technology. He is thirty-eight years of age and married. He was given fourteen days by Judge Mellor to find work on the land. That work he is totally unfitted to perform. I have many other cases of the same kind, but I do not think that it is 1262 worth while to trouble the House with them all, and I want to give my hon. Friend ample time to reply. What, however, I do want to suggest is that this sort of treatment of conscientious objectors, this sending of them to unsuitable work, this penalising them for refusing military service, is just as illogical as if we were condemning my hon. Friend the Member for the Rushcliffe Division (Mr. Leif Jones) to drink whisky or champagne or some other liquor of the kind, and compel him to do it. These men are all willing to serve their country. I received a deputation from some of the finest young fellows—spirited men of great courage and bravery, and high-class men—when I was in my Constituency, and I was very much impressed with the things they told me. These men were all of exalted character, living pure lives, and I maintain that they are the very salt of the earth. I know there are sneaks who try to evade military service by pretending to have a conscience, and that is what influences so many men who condemn the conscientious objector, but it is the duty of the tribunals to find out these men. That is exactly what they are for. I do endorse the recommendation of my hon. Friend behind me in asking that some reason, some intelligence, should be used in the manner of treating these conscientious objectors.
§ The PARLIAMENTARY SECRETARY to the LOCAL GOVERNMENT BOARD (Mr. Hayes Fisher)
If all conscientious objectors were cast in the mould of the hon. Member who has brought forward the subject to-night, this House would not have to waste night after night in discussing the question of conscientious objectors, nor would there be exhibitions occasionally, but not frequently, of somewhat unseemly wrangles between judge and witness and applicant at tribunals, which sometimes make us, perhaps, a little ashamed of some of the tribunals. I say that of some of them, but I wish at the same time to say that there are thousands of tribunals, and, considering the way in which they had to be composed, almost at a moment's notice, and the materials from which they had to be selected, on the whole those tribunals have shown singular impartiality, very great industry, and have effected the main purpose for which they were formed at a crisis in our nation's history, because we must not put this away from our mind, that our nation is in deadly peril at the present moment, 1263 and it wants to exert to its utmost the fullness of its man-power. Everybody in this country ought to be only too willing to give to the full his services for his country in some form or another to rescue his country from the peril in which it is placed, fighting the noblest of all causes, fighting for the poor and the weak, for the weaker nations against the strong, and for the cause of liberty and humanity. I believe there are a number of conscientious objectors, although they may object personally to take any part in fighting or in military service, who are perfectly willing to do some national service. But do not let us put out of mind at the same time that there are others who do shirk, who do skulk behind the plea of conscience, and, after all, the picture that is drawn of some of these conscientious objectors is not a very pleasant one. I do not happen to have met one in the flesh. They do not exist among my own friends and followers. My own friends and followers are conscientious objectors to the horrors that are being perpetrated by the German Army acting under Prussianism. They are conscientious objectors to anyone going out and fighting their battles, and making the supreme sacrifice which is being made day by day and hour by hour by some of the noblest of our fellow men. They are anxious not to shelter themselves behind those gallant men, but to do everything in their power to help them, and join with them in the supreme self-sacrifice if necessary.
If, as I say, there is occasionally an unseemly want of temper on the part of some members of a tribunal, after all many of these conscientious objectors when they appear before tribunals are very angular, very arrogant, and very aggressive. I am at this disadvantage compared with my hon. Friend. He has obtained an account from one source of what happened before a tribunal. That is an ex-parte statement. Before I judge of what took place I should have to have the chairman before me and the military representative. There is a good deal of conflicting evidence in this case, and I am not at all prepared to accept the version of my hon. Friend on this occasion. I think probably there is a good deal to be said on the other side. I deplore, and always shall deplore, the loss of temper of those who act the part of judges. I also think the use of Scripture on these occasions is singularly inoppor- 1264 tune, and there is no good, as a rule, in quoting one text when another can quote a further text. After all, tribunals and applicants should act up to the spirit of the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ, and if all acted up to that spirit, and not the letter, we should not be occupied in discussing scenes of that kind.
Although I have no particular sympathy with conscientious objectors. I agree with my hon. Friend that it is very doubtful wisdom to force these conscientious objectors, so ill-suited to any form of fighting, into the Army; but, at the same time, I wish to say to the House that if we make it too easy for them to put forward conscience as an excuse for not doing duty under difficult and dangerous circumstances, you will undoubtedly have men come forward who, for one reason or another—perhaps a very good reason, such as domestic hardship will say, "I cannot get the tribunal to give me exemption, not even to put me into non-combatant service, by pleading financial or domestic hardship, but if I tell them I have a conscience which will not allow me to fight, then I shall be able to get off, and continue my occupation and carry on my life much as I carry it on now." That is a serious danger. I believe there is a great deal of work of national importance which might be devised into which you might turn these gentlemen who call themselves conscientious objectors.
To deal with the two cases my hon. Friend has brought to my notice, there is first the case of Mr. Malcolm Sparkes. He was exempted conditionally by the local tribunal if he would undertake work of national importance approved by the local tribunal, and they gave him many weeks in which to find that work.
§ Mr. HAYES FISHER
Quite so; yet they gave him many weeks to find that work. He was not satisfied with the condition of exemption they made, but he appealed to the Appeal Tribunal, and the Appeal Tribunal heard him. They came to the conclusion that the local tribunal was right and that that tribunal had done him perfect justice. Thereupon the Pelham Tribunal recommended work of a certain kind, but the local tribunal said "No, we do not consider that is work of national importance."'
1265 Now arises the question: Have the local tribunal the right to say whether, when they give A or B a conditional exemption that he is to find work of national importance? The particular work which the Pelham Committee recommend is work of national importance. Of course, it must be left to the local tribunals, and whether rightly or wrongly they said: "We do not consider that is work of national importance, and as you have taken all these weeks to find work of national importance, we are going to withdraw our former decision, and say that you ought to go into non-combatant service." I think that is a very wrong decision, but I am not here to defend all the decisions of these tribunals or to say whether or not I should have given the same decision.
What I am here for is to say that this is no case in which the Local Government Board can be called upon to intervene. The local tribunal has a right to say: "This is not the kind of work we think you ought to do, and as you have taken all these weeks to find work of national importance, and as we think you are fit for non-combatant service, we have decided against you." This man was not satisfied with half a loaf and he wanted the whole loaf. He tried to get the whole loaf and then he found half the loaf taken away from him. It is the same in the other case which was quoted by my hon. Friend. The man was exempted from combatant service, but he was not satisfied. He took his case to the Appeal Court, and they said: "We will not even exempt you from combatant service." Both these cases went to the Appeal Tribunal and were decided against the appellants. They both lost what the local tribunals had given to them, and now my hon. Friend comes here and says that the Appeal Tribunal went one better than the local tribunal, because the unfortunate applicant lost what the local tribunal had given to him.
I could go into more details if it were necessary, but I am here to represent the Local Government Board in the absence of my right hon. Friend, and what I have to say is that in both these cases the tribunals have a perfect right to decide. That power is with them, and I know of nothing they did that violated the ordinary rules of procedure or that was in any way irregular. The decision rests with them, and my Department has no power, and ought not to have power, to 1266 interfere in such cases. In both these cases they put their views before two tribunals and before two Courts of their countrymen, and in both cases they unanimously decided against them and against the plea they put forward. In all those circumstances I cannot find fault with the tribunal or pretend to revise or adjudicate upon their decision. I maintain that the Local Government Board has no right to intervene in cases of that kind, and I think this proves on the whole that conscientious objectors are well protected by the Appeal Court—[An HON. MEMBER: "Too well!"]—then by the Central Court, then by the Pelham Committee, and then by what is known as the Brace Committee. There is far more attention given to the cases of conscientious objectors than is given to the thousands of men who are falling day by day in battle, whose widows and dependants are left, and who do not receive half the attention paid to the conscientious objectors. They receive far more attention than is given even to the crippled and the disabled, and those are the men who have my sympathy far more than the conscientious objectors.
§ Mr. FORSTER
The hon. Gentleman who moved this Motion alleged that the military representative of one of the Appeal Tribunals made use of an expression which every right-thinking man must regret if it were true. The military representative denies absolutely and emphatically that he ever said anything of the kind, and I think my hon. Friend is satisfied that, even if any controversy arose between the applicant and the military representative, at any rate it did not occur before the tribunal.
§ Whereupon Mr. DEPUTY-SPEAKER, pursuant to the Order of the House of the 22nd February, proposed the Question, "That this House do now adjourn."
§ It being one hour after the conclusion of Government Business, Mr. DEPUTY-SPEAKER adjourned the House, without Question put, pursuant to the Order of the House of the 22nd February.
§ Adjourned at Ten o'clock.
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From one tormented moment ... to the next
One of the effects of being out of work for seven years
(and the rejection implicit in having applied to 2,000-3,000 jobs in that time with only a mere handful of serious interviews resulting from that herculean effort), is that I struggle with depression … a lot. Of course, another
effect of not being in a job is not having a paycheck, so my options for finding help
with said depression are somewhat limited. Over the past year or so I've been going to DBSA
meetings, which are sort of like group therapy sessions, but (generally speaking) without a therapist
(yeah, it's a bit like “the inmates running the asylum”). The subject of this review is a book that was enthusiastically
recommended by the folks who referee one of the groups I attended: An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness
by Kay Redfield Jamison.
Now, Ms. Jamison is a clinical psychologist, a Professor of Psychiatry at the John Hopkins School of Medicine, and co-author of the “standard medical text” Manic-Depressive Illness
, so I figured that An Unquiet Mind
would be a book discussing
depression, etc. But, no. This is an autobiography
focusing on the author's OWN struggles with what is currently labeled as “bipolar disorder”. I don't know why
, specifically, this confused me … but I guess I was anticipating that somebody might have mentioned (amid all the praise for the book) that it was “one woman's struggle” with the disease, even if from a standpoint of being on the leading expert on
the disease, rather than presenting it as some definitive text on the subject.
This review may end up being a good deal less “in depth” that I would like it, largely due to it being an intensely personal tale of Jamison's life, with narrative arcs and illustrative details that are, if not “TMI”, hard to generalize
from, as they're intrinsically interwoven with her individual experiences. Early on here she gives the broad strokes:
For as long as I can remember I was frighteningly, although often wonderfully, beholden to moods. Intensely emotional as a child, mercurial as a young girl, first severely depressed as an adolescent, and then unrelentingly caught up in the cycles of manic-depressive illness by the time I began my professional life, I became, both by necessity and intellectual inclination, a student of moods. It has been the only way I know to understand, indeed to accept, the illness I have; it also has been the only way I know to try to make a difference in the lives of others who also suffer from mood disorders. The disease that has, on several occasions, nearly killed me does kill tens of thousands of people every year …
Although she had, as detailed in the above, been “of the type” for most of her life, it wasn't until her late 20's (“Within a month of signing my appointment papers to become an assistant professor of psychiatry at the University of California, Los Angeles”
) that the disease hit her full force.
Again, this is a very personal book, and while the particulars are certainly of interest in context, extracting them here seems awfully random. The author was a “military brat”, her father being a meteorologist with the Air Force, and her childhood was spent in that rather idiosyncratic environment, reinforced by her D.A.R. mother's appreciations of the social aspects involved. One of the factoids that is repeatedly raised here is that manic-depression/bi-polar disorder is frequently, if not predictably, found within families, and (although it was rarely diagnosed
in previous generations) her father pretty clearly (from the difficulties of later years) had the disease.
When she was headed to high school, her father left the military, and took a position with the Rand Corporation out in California. This threw Jamison out of the familiar settings of the peripatetic military lifestyle, and into the less structured environment of Los Angeles. She survived high school, and reluctantly (she'd always planned on going to University of Chicago) enrolled in UCLA.
I have no reason to doubt the overall veracity of this book (unlike many others I've reviewed), but I found myself waxing incredulous at several points in the parts discussing her academic career, both as a student, and as she climbed the professorial ladder. If things were as bad
as she paints them here, how could she have completed her college work? I assume that she is selecting material to discuss based on how it illustrates her disease, and avoiding the less “remarkable” parts, but reading through this made it hard to believe that she managed to get through college, get advanced degrees, do competent work, get tenure, etc. Sure, there were manic
phases when she could move mountains, but the over-all tone of her academic life (and, OK, what do I know about the realities of those “ivory towers”?) sounded like something that would have resulted in a business
person having long ugly chats with HR.
One of the pivotal issues in the book is that, for a very long time, Jamison was refusing to medicate. I realize that many of the “popular drugs” for depression, etc. can be quite debilitating (I had a few prescribed for me a decade or so back, and each was worse than the last, and I finally decided that I'd rather be miserable
than various degrees of zombified
), but she was a professional
in the field, and should have known that she should have been on meds.
I reaped a bitter harvest from my own refusal to take lithium on a consistent basis. A floridly psychotic mania was followed, inevitably, by a long and lacerating, black, suicidal depression; it lasted more than a year and a half. From the time I woke up in the morning until the time I went to bed at night, I was unbearably miserable and seemingly incapable of any kind of joy or enthusiasm. Everything – every thought, word, movement – was an effort. Everything that once was sparkling now was flat. I seemed to myself to be dull, boring, inadequate, thick brained, unlit, unresponsive, chill skinned, bloodless, and sparrow drab. I doubted, completely, my ability to do anything well. It seemed as though my mind had slowed down and burned out to the point of being virtually useless. The wretched, convoluted, and pathetically confused mass of gray worked only well enough to torment me with a dreary litany of my inadequacies and shortcomings in character, and to taunt me with the total, the desperate, hopelessness of it all.
Thankfully, I only suffer from “situational” depression (a form of PTSD, I'm told), but that sounds awfully
familiar to me – waking up to that sort of state several times a week. One thing that I found interesting here (and which I've also gotten a sense of from various people at DBSA meetings), is how bad
the flip side of depression (“floridly psychotic mania”
in the above) can be. For somebody whose college nickname was “manic”, I never had a clue
that for some folks “being manic” wasn't just about being up for days at a time cranking out awesome projects … and Jamison details some of these behaviors (which frequently involve massive spending sprees on things that no rational
person would think was a good idea) which certainly parallel the horror stories I've heard in group.
Despite the difficulties generated by the manic phases (luckily for the author, her brother was able to “fix” her financial issues from these episodes) and the nightmares of the depressive times (in which she regularly contemplated, and on occasion attempted, suicide), Jamison ends up having a rather sterling academic career, including co-“writing the book” on her disorder. However, her private life was not so lucky, as her initial (seemingly wonderful) marriage was destroyed by her disease, and she ended up having a series of other relationships which she goes into here … including one really tragic connection which was cut short by the sudden heart-attack death of her (young, athletic) intended (however, at that point she was religiously taking her lithium, and did not have a total crash in the wake of it).
While An Unquiet Mind
was not the book that I thought I was getting into, it certainly was an interesting (if somewhat voyeuristic) read, and broadly illuminating on the subject of manic-depression / bi-polar disorder. It is, however, not a particularly comfortable
read, and I don't think that's just from the perspective of somebody dealing with depression … but that could also be due to my having expected something more “clinical” here than the personal outpouring that this is.
This has been out for 20 years at this point, and is still in print (in the paperback edition), being a “classic” in its niche, so you should be able to get a copy from your local brick-and-mortar book vendor, although the on-line big boys have it at a substantial (40% off at this writing) discount. You can also find “very good” copies in the used channel for as little as 1¢ (four bucks with shipping), if you want to go for maximum affordability. I found a good deal of what the author presents in here of use, but (as noted) it wasn't the sort of book I was expecting, so my enthusiasm isn't quite up to that of the folks who had suggested my getting it. I guess if you know going in it's an autobiographical look at one (top professional in the field) woman's struggle with this disease, you won't be trying to extract the sort of info I was hoping for here … and probably get more out of it.
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HMS Bridgewater (L01) was the lead ship of her class of sloops built for the Royal Navy in the 1920s. Completed in 1929, the ship was initially assigned to the China Station and was transferred to the Africa Station in 1935. During the Second World War, Bridgewater spent most of her time on convoy escort duties off the West African coast although she did play a minor role in the Battle of Dakar in 1940. She was replaced in that role before the end of the war by more modern ships and was relegated to training duties in the UK. The ship was reduced to reserve shortly after the end of the war and was sold for scrap in 1947.
HMS Bridgewater was ordered from Hawthorne Leslie on 19 September 1927, one of two Bridgwater-class sloops ordered from Hawthorn Leslie that day. The Bridgewaters were intended as replacements for the Flower-class sloops, and were to combine the role of peacetime patrol work at distant overseas stations (with the Bridgewaters being specifically intended for service in the Persian Gulf) with a wartime role as minesweepers.
Bridgewater was 266 feet 4 inches (81.18 m) long overall and 250 feet (76 m) between perpendiculars, with a beam of 34 feet (10 m) and a draught of 11 feet 5 inches (3.48 m). Displacement was 1,045 long tons (1,062 t) standard and 1,600 long tons (1,600 t) full load. The ship was powered by two Parsons geared steam turbines, each driving one propeller shaft, using steam provided by two Admiralty three-drum boiler. The turbines developed a total of 2,000 shaft horsepower (1,500 kW) and were designed to give a maximum speed of 16.5 knots (30.6 km/h; 19.0 mph). The main armament consisted of a pair of QF four-inch (102 mm) Mk V guns on the ship's centreline, one forward and one aft, with the forward gun on a high-angle mount, capable of anti-aircraft fire and the second gun on a low-angle mount, for anti-surface use only. Two 3-pounder saluting guns were also carried, while the anti-submarine armament initially consisted of four depth charges. The ship's crew consisted of 96 officers and ratings.
Bridgewater was laid down at Hawthorne Leslie's Tyneside shipyard on 6 February 1928 and was launched without ceremony on 14 September. Bridgewater reached a speed of 17.24 knots (31.93 km/h; 19.84 mph) during sea trials and was commissioned on 14 March 1929.
In 1938, the aft four-inch gun was replaced by one on a high-angle mounting and the two saluting guns were exchanged for a pair of quadruple Vickers 0.5 in (12.7 mm) anti-aircraft (AA) machineguns mounts. By the outbreak of the Second World War, the ship had been fitted with ASDIC, and the depth charge outfit was increased to 15 charges.
While ordered for service in the Persian Gulf, both Bridgewater and her sister ship Sandwich were first deployed to the China Station. In early August 1930, Bridgewater ferried troops of the Green Howards to Hankou, formerly site of a British concession, in response to threats posed by the fighting of the Central Plains War to foreigners. In 1931 Bridgewater, along with the survey ships Herald and Iroquois carried out a survey of the shallow area of the South China Sea known as the Dangerous Ground as part of a search for potential secret seaplane bases in case of war. In August 1931 she took part in the search for the missing cargo ship Kwong Sang, which had been sunk by a typhoon off Taichow Island.
Bridgewater remained on the China Station until 1935, when she joined the Africa Station (later known as the South Atlantic Station). The ship returned to Devonport Dockyard on 1 September 1936 for a month's refit and then returned to Simonstown. Bridgewater had her second high-angle four-inch gun installed during a refit there. It was interrupted by the Munich Crisis of September 1938 when she was ordered to Freetown, Sierra Leone. The ship later resumed her refit and remained in South Africa until she returned to Devonport for another refit on 13 April 1939. It was completed on 17 May when Bridgewater began a leisurely cruise back to South Africa and arrived there in August.
When the Second World War began in the following month, the ship was briefly transferred to Freetown for convoy escort duties before returning to South Africa. She returned to Freetown in January 1940 and remained there until she needed her bottom cleaned in June. On 13 September, Bridgewater rendezvoused with a convoy that was carrying troops intended to capture Dakar from the Vichy French, and resumed her former duties after its unsuccessful conclusion. The lack of docking facilities in Freetown forced the ship to return to Simonstown to have her hull cleaned in February 1941 and January 1942. In July, she escorted a convoy to the UK and then began a lengthy refit that saw her Vickers .50 machine guns replaced by a pair of 20-millimeter (0.8 in) Oerlikon light AA guns, a Type 271 surface-search radar was installed and she also received a HF/DF radio direction finder mounted on a pole mainmast.
Bridgewater returned to Freetown on 9 October, having covered Convoy OS 42 en route. In December, she escorted the badly damaged light cruiser Phoebe to Trinidad and returned in January 1943. The ship escorted Convoy SL 136 to Liverpool and began a refit at Southampton that was intended to prepare her for convoy work with the 40th Escort Group in the Atlantic Ocean. Bridgewater's radar suite was upgraded with an improved Type 271Q radar and the addition of a Type 291 aircraft search radar. Her light AA armament was augmented by another pair of Oerlikons and she received a Hedgehog anti-submarine spigot mortar. However, the ship proved to be too worn out for her intended duties and she was transferred to the 3rd Submarine Flotilla where she served as a target ship for the rest of the war. Bridgewater was reduced to reserve in July 1945 at Ardrossan and was subsequently used for static bomb trials. The ship was sold for scrap on 22 May 1947 and subsequently broken up at Gelliswick Bay, Milford Haven by Howells.
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In the second half of his teachings this morning, the Karmapa shared his research into the history of nuns and their status. He began by explaining the background of the name “Arya Kshema,” given to the Winter Dharma Gathering. He noted that among the disciples of Shakyamuni Buddha, there were his eight greatest male monastic disciples, known for their prajna (supreme wisdom) or miracles and so forth. Likewise, there were female master disciples who were greatest at miracles or known for their prajna and other outstanding qualities. Arya Kshema is one of these and she is described in the Sutra of the Wise and Foolish as the greatest in wisdom and confidence, so the Winter Dharma Gathering is named after her.
“In giving this name,” the Karmapa explained, “we are also following the saying, ‘Later disciples should practice the example of past masters.’ Previously, during the time of the Buddha Shakyamuni, there were woman arhats, bhikshunis, and woman with the eightfold purity. My thought was that we could look to them as examples, train properly in Buddhist teachings just as they did, and achieve the result of liberation. I thought they would provide inspiration and a role model.
“Actually, we had originally planned to have a conference during this nun’s Winter Dharma Gathering. The main topic was to be the lives of great individuals who achieved liberation in a female body, in particular those bhikshunis who were important disciples of the Buddha Shakyamuni. But we didn’t have enough time and it didn’t happen, so we will look into it again later.
“In any case, in Tibetan history—and this is something that historians have not paid much attention to—Karma Chakme wrote Mountain Dharma for Nuns. This is from the genre of texts called “mountain dharma” that compile the instructions necessary for meditating in mountain retreats, and this is a mountain dharma text that Karma Chakme compiled particularly for nuns. In it, he says that at that time (of the 10th Karmapa), there were more nunneries than monasteries in Central Tibet, and all the nuns in these nunneries had a good basis of discipline. He wrote that they kept their precepts extremely well. For this reason, historically the nuns’ teachings spread widely in Tibet.
“But those who wrote the histories did not pay much attention to this, and later only a very few took interest in how the nuns’ Dharma spread in Tibet or in the great beings who appeared in a female body. However, in history and in fact, there have been many individuals in Tibet who gained siddhis in a female body, and there must have been many female learned individuals as well. Nuns’ communities must have flourished greatly.
“Likewise, when the monastic community was first established in Tibet, which is said to be during the time of King Trisong Deutsen (742-800), there were the Seven Men for Testing. Some say “Seven Men” and some say “Six Men.” But whether it was six or seven, when they first established the monastic community, there were not only men who went forth, but women as well. Among the queens, those who had not given birth to children went forth. When they did so and were ordained, I don’t think that they were just called nuns and dressed in monastic robes. When we say the Seven Men for Testing went forth, we clearly understand that they received the entire ordination. Likewise when women went forth at that time, I do not think it means that they merely held the intermediate vows of going forth. So when Buddhism first spread to Tibet, it seems that a community of ordained women was established from that very time.
“Similarly, there are important Sakya histories called Documents of the Kings and the Sakya Familial Lineage. These say that many daughters born into the Sakya family line became bhikshunis and give many stories about them. Later there were people who say these are not true, but that is a little hard to accept. For one thing, Documents of the Kings and the Sakya Familial Lineage are considered reliable historical documents. Also, it is a bit difficult to say that only the stories of women going forth or becoming bhikshunis are false but everything else is true. Furthermore, among the scholars from Minyak, there was one named Kashiwa Rikpe. It states in his biography that there was a community of bhikshunis at Minyak Rapgang and that there were three to four hundred nunneries. Therefore, there was a time in Tibet when there were quite a few nuns’ communities.
“During the time of Lha Lama Yeshe Ö and his successor, there was a royal proclamation that stated no one was allowed to prevent women who wanted to go forth or become bhikshunis from doing so; one must let them go forth and become bhikshunis. So at that time there must have been female aspirants; otherwise, it would have been unnecessary to say that they should be allowed to go forth and become bhikshunis. Similarly, there are several biographies of Lotsawa Rinchen Sangpo that are of varying length. One of these tells how a younger sister of his was ordained as a bhikshuni. There are many such stories.
“We don’t know, however, what the situations or circumstances were that led the nunneries and nuns’ communities to decline later. This should be researched, as there must have been some conditions for it. Later, nunneries in Tibet were quite poor and badly off. Many of you probably don’t know this, but those of you who have stayed in nunneries in Tibet probably do. The living facilities are poor, and the opportunities for study are weak. This is very clear. We don’t know whether the reason for this situation is related to politics, the dominance of any dharma lineage, or something else. This needs to be examined.
“In any case, when we say nowadays that nuns should be educated, that they should develop their qualities, and that a community of bhikshunis should be established, this is not something that has only now become important. It is not saying that what was previously insignificant has become important. Instead, it was crucial in the past, and we need to explain how that was and also dispel any doubts or misconceptions about it.
“There is a text called the Great Exposition of the Abhidharma. When we speak of the four philosophical schools, the reason the Great Exposition school was given that name is because they explain their tenets based upon this text. When it discusses how long the teachings would remain, it mentions that the Vinaya said that Buddhism would endure for one thousand years. But when the Great Exposition appeared, one thousand years had probably gone by since the Buddha passed away, yet the teachings still endured, even though the thousand years were over. So the arhats discussed why it was that the Buddha’s teachings remained even though a thousand years had gone by.
“Actually, the Vinaya states that the Buddha’s teachings would only remain a thousand years, but because women were ordained, that was shortened by five hundred years. However the Great Exposition appeared in the first or second century, when the Buddhism was supposed to have disappeared. So they had a discussion about this to figure out what could have been meant by saying the teachings would remain five hundred fewer years if women were ordained. The arhats had two ways of explaining this. One was to say that this meant the teachings of complete liberation, which refer to what we usually call the ‘period of results’ when we describe the duration of Buddhism. The other explanation says that if nuns had not accepted the eight heavy dharmas, the teachings would have been shortened by five hundred years. But the nuns did accept the eight heavy dharmas, so the duration of the teachings was not decreased by five hundred years. That is the explanation they gave.
“Before we received the text of the Great Exposition, Geshe Rinchen and I had discussed this point and thought it could be explained like that. Our understanding is exactly what we found in the text, so we gained some confidence. In any case, not knowing the entire situation, people have explained a few aspects and made a lot of noise while exaggerating things. This has led to many misapprehensions and misperceptions, which should be dispelled.
“We train in validity and say ‘It follows that…’ or ‘Because of x….’ We stomp our feet and clap our hands, and train in debate for many years primarily to dispel misapprehensions and misperceptions. We don’t do it only to become facile. The point of studying validity and logic is to dispel misapprehensions and misperceptions. If we say we study validity and follow logic but our misapprehensions and misperceptions increase, it is a sign we have not studied well. Since we study validity and use our logics, we must examine how they accord with facts. This is what we should consider most important. Being rigidly old-fashioned and holding to one’s own biases or views without proper reasons is not the way logicians should do things. I think that this is another reason why we need to consider this thoroughly.” With a look to the future and on-going research, the Karmapa drew this special morning talk to a close.
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A paper submitted for consideration in March 1997 was peer reviewed, successfully modified, and accepted for publication in June 1997. In January 1998 the paper was prepared for publication, and a commentary sought from an expert in the same field, scheduled for publication in the same issue. The expert drew the editor’s attention to the fact that a similar paper (albeit in shortened form) had been published in another journal in November 1997, after the paper to this journal had been accepted. The editor of the second journal who had no knowledge of the paper being submitted to to this journal. The papers were examined and the following conclusions drawn: 1 The sample size,methods,and results were identical for both papers. 2 The discussions were similar, lthough reworded slightly. 3 Additional data had been added to the paper for one journal which had been omitted for the short report in the other journal.
Could this be ignorance of process rather than bad behaviour? Both journals should make their position clear with regard to duplicate publication Both journals should look at their own processes for dealing with it.
The authors were asked to explain, especially as both papers had been submitted without either editor being advised of the other submission, and without a reference to the other journal in either paper. The authors claimed that the paper to this journal was a full report for the readers (one health profession) while the short report was to inform the readers of the other journal who comprised a different health profession. This explanation was regarded as insuf?cient grounds for the lack of information and the paper was not published. Interestingly, had the authors kept both editors informed and credited and referenced the original paper in the second, then it is unlikely that a possible case of duplicate publication would have been considered and both would probably have been published.
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No one could believe what was happening down on earth. All the angels in the Kingdom of heaven were worried about what they saw unfold down below.
It was a very sad Friday. The angels saw Jesus arrested. He was judged by the Jewish high council. Sent on to Ponitus Pilate, then Herod and then back to Pilate who, in the end agreed to allow Jesus to be crucified.
They made Jesus carry his cross. When they reached the place where they crucified him, the soldiers nailed Jesus to the cross. There he had died. He was placed in a tomb with a giant stone in front. The Son of God, Jesus, was dead.
A small family of angels sat at dinner. They didn’t talk very much. After what happened that day they just didn’t feel much like talking. Then, finally, Abner spoke.
“Dad, it has been such a bad day, so sad. I don’t understand. Why did Jesus have to die? It was so mean.”
“You are right about that, son,” said his father, Gabriel. “It is a very, very sad day. Many people, and angels, here in heaven and on earth, have cried a lot today. But, ever since God created the world, He has let people decide what they will do. Sometimes they make good choices. Sometimes they make bad choices. This does not seem to be a good choice.”
“I just can’t believe it happened,” said Abner’s older sister Carmen. “It seems like it was just last week that my choir sang at his birth, and now he is dead.” “So is God mad at all those humans?” asked Abner.
“I think right now, God is just sad. I think God knew this was going to happen but he hoped it might be different. Like all of us, God cried a lot today,” said his father.
“I knew God was sad when the world went dark today. It was sad and it was spooky,” said Abner’s mother.
“Yeah, it scared me.” said Abner’s other sister Eleanor.
“Jesus did so much for people down there on earth,” said Abner. “He healed sick people. He gave blind people back their sight. He fed them when they were hungry. He
tried to teach them a happier, better way to live. Then they killed him.”
“I don’t think they really knew what Jesus was trying to do,” said Carmen.
“You are right about that,” said their father.
“Dad,” asked Abner, “God has punished the people on earth before because they were bad and mean. This is the worst thing they have ever done. How do you think
God will punish them this time?”
“Abner I don’t really know,” said Gabriel. “I just don’t think I would want to be a human living on earth during the next few days. If God wants to punish people it could be bad. It could be really bad.”
As the family left the dinner table, Abner said, “I guess we will have to wait and see what happens.”
The next day, when Gabriel came home he called out, “Abner! Abner! Are you here? I need you. It’s really important.”
“Hey Dad,” said Abner as he ran into the room. “You seem excited. Is something on fire? What’s up?”
“God wants you to go with me and two other angels down to earth tonight. I am not sure why. I was just told we have to meet up with the other angels at the park tonight and that we would probably be gone all night,” said Gabriel.
“All night?” asked the young angel’s mother.
“That’s what I was told,” said Gabriel. “I don’t know why or what Abner, me and the others will be doing.”
“If that is what God wants,” Abner said, “I will be there. I am ready to go, whatever God might want us to do.”
“Well, you aren’t leaving without eating a good dinner first!” replied his mother.
“Go get cleaned up while I make you something to eat.”
Two hours later, Abner met up with the other angels. Gabriel sent Abner ahead while he went to learn what they would do that night. Abner was surprised to find that the other two angels at the park were his two best friends, Remo and Zeke.
“What are you guys doing here?” asked Abner.
“When our dads came home today they said for us to be here. We were supposed to meet you and your dad, and that your dad would know what we would need to do.”
“Well, Dad has gone to find out,” said Abner. “He should be here in a few minutes.”
Then, just as Abner finished talking, Gabriel flew into the park.
“Well, our job tonight,” Gabriel said, “we are to go move a rock down on earth. I am not sure why we need to move the rock. God just said we would understand when the job was done. He picked the three of you because you are young and strong.”
“OK,” said Abner, “but I’ve never heard of angels moving rocks before, normally we would help people.”
Remo and Zeke quickly agreed.
“Well, angels don’t question God,” said Gabriel. “We just go and we do the things God asks us to do. I think we need to get going. Just like God wants people to do His will, God expects us angels to do what He wants us to do too. Let’s fly.”
The four angels then flew from heaven to earth ready for the job God had given them to do.
When the angels arrived on earth, they found themselves looking at a huge gigantic rock.
“How are we ever going to move that rock?” Zeke asked Gabriel. “That thing is
“I am not as worried about the rock as I am about the Roman guards that are standing around the rock,” said Remo. Those are some scary looking dudes.”
“Both of you guys are right,” said Abner. “But remember what they taught us in school. With God everything is possible and God will give us whatever we need to get the job done when we follow God’s will. Isn’t that right Dad?”
“Everything all you guys are saying is true,” said Gabriel. “The rock is huge. The guards are scary. And, with God on our side we will get the job done.”
Just then, one of the guards saw the four angels. “Who goes there?” shouted the guard to the angels. Then the guards rushed toward the small group of angels.
“There are more of them than there are of us,” shouted Zeke.
“What are we going to do?” asked Remo.
Just then one of the guards was right by Abner. Abner reached out his hand and touched one of the guards. As soon as Abner touched him, the guard fell to the ground and was sound asleep. That guard was quickly followed by another. Abner reached out and touched him too. Like the first guard, when Abner touched the second guard, he fell to the ground and went to sleep too.
“Wow!” yelled Abner. “Dad, Guys, just reach out and touch them with your hand.
When you do they will fall asleep.”
“Thanks, Abner,” said his father. The three started touching the guards around them, and just as had happened for Abner, the others fell asleep.
“Well, I guess we didn’t need to worry about the guards,” said Abner.
“Yeah, that was a pretty easy problem to solve,” said Remo.
“That is true my friend,” said Zeke. “We solved one problem, but we still have another problem to work out and it is HUGE!”
“You are right about that Zeke,” said Gabriel. “I am just not sure how four of us are going to push such a big rock out of the way. Why don’t we just get behind it and push. Maybe it will roll out of the way.”
The four angels got behind the rock and they started to push. They pushed and pushed and pushed. The rock would not move.
“Are you pushing as hard as you can Zeke?” asked Remo.
“Of course I am pushing hard Remo,” said Zeke.
“OK guys,” said Gabriel. “We will never get the job done is we spend our time arguing. We need to work together. What if we took that long stick over there and tried to pry the rock out of the way?”
“It’s worth a try,” said Zeke. He went over and picked up the large stick. They stuck one end under the rock and tried to pry the rock out of the way. It just wouldn’t move.
“I thought the guards were going to be hard,” said Remo. “This rock is what is really hard. Will we ever get it to move.”
“Let’s all take a break and think for a minute,” said Gabriel. “Surely we can come up with a plan that will work.”
“I’m all for that,” said Zeke as he went over to another, smaller rock and sat down. Remo and Gabriel went over to join him.
Abner had stayed quiet through all of the conversation. He wasn’t talking. He was just thinking.
“I think I may have to go back up to heaven,” said Gabriel. “This rock is just too big. I think we are going to need more help.” Zeke and Remo nodded their heads. They thought Gabriel was right.
Abner heard his dad even though he wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention.
Something was bothering him.
“Abner!” said his father. “Come over here and rest for a minute. You need a break too. We all need a break. Don’t worry. We will figure it out. We won’t let God down.”
“I know, I know,” said Abner. I will be there in a minute as he looked around. He was thinking. “What is bothering me? We are missing something. What are we doing wrong? What is it?” Then Abner remembered.
Abner knelt down in the dirt. The others thought he was going to sit down right there. “Abner, why don’t you come sit with us?” asked Remo.
Abner waved off his friend and continued to kneel in the dirt. “Abner,” Zeke
Abner Rolls the Stone
started to say, but Gabriel stopped him.
“I think Abner might be on to something,” said Gabriel. “He is kneeling in the dirt because he is going to pray.”
“God, you sent us here to move this giant rock. You only sent four of us. That means four angels is all we need to get the job done. Four is all we need if we do it right, if we do it with you. Give me the strength we need to move the rock, O God. Amen.”
Abner stood up from the dirt and walked to the huge rock. He started pushing. “Abner,” shouted the others. “Wait. We can help” shouted Remo and Zeke.
“You are going to hurt yourself trying to move that huge rock by yourself,” said his father. “You need help.”
“No, I won’t,” said Abner. “With God, I can do anything.”
Abner kept pushing as the other three angels walked toward him. Then the stone started to move. It rolled an inch. Then two. Then five. It rolled a foot and then two feet. Abner kept pushing and the rock kept moving. Soon the rock started to roll and it moved completely out of the way.
“Wow Abner,” said Remo. “You are super strong.”
“No,” replied Abner. “I am not any stronger than you guys. And, I know I’m not stronger than my Dad. But I remembered, with God, all things are possible. So, I prayed that God would give me the strength to move that rock.”
“That’s right Abner,” came a voice from inside the cave.
The voice soon got the attention of the small group of angels. The younger angels became scared again. Gabriel had a pretty good idea what was going on now.
“It’s OK boys. God said when the stone was moved we would understand.” “Well,” said Zeke. “The stone is moved and I still don’t understand.” “Neither do I,” agreed Remo.
“I think I do,” said Abner. “Is this Jesus’ tomb Dad?” “I do believe it is,” said Gabriel.
“You are right,” said Jesus as he reached the entrance to the tomb. “It is my tomb.”
“But, but, you are dead,” said Zeke.
“I told people before,” said Jesus, “I would rise on the third day.” “Now you have,” said Abner.
“I have,” said Jesus. “And with the help you four have given me, I can show the world have risen. Thank you for rolling away the stone Abner.”
“Wow. This is so cool,” said Remo. “Can we do anything else to help you
“Well Remo,” said Jesus, “There is one more thing. I have to go to Galilee. Abner, since you got me out, I need you to stay here. There will be people coming to prepare my body for final burial. I need you to wait for them. Ask them ‘Why do you look for the living among the dead?’ Tell them, ‘He has gone ahead to Galilee just like he told you he would.’ Tell them to go and tell the disciples and Peter that I will meet them there.
“As for you Gabriel, Zeke and Remo, go and watch over the road from the city
Abner Rolls the Stone
and see that the women have no trouble getting here but don’t show yourselves if you don’t have to do so,” Jesus said. “Now, let’s all go.”
And, Gabriel, Zeke and Remo left, flying of toward Jerusalem. Jesus stood with Abner.
“Abner, thank you for your work and remembering how important it is to pray when we are going to do something big. Your prayer helped you move the stone. By moving the stone you helped me. That is good work.” Jesus said.
“Thank you Jesus,” said Abner. I will tell the women what you said when they get here. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t Abner,” Jesus said. “Bye for now.”
“Bye Jesus,” said Abner as Jesus walked away. When Jesus was out of Abner’s sight, he climbed up and sat down on top of the rock he had moved a few minutes before.
Abner remained there for perhaps a half hour. Angels have trouble keeping track of time. God’s time isn’t the same as human time and angels work more on God’s time. Then he heard voices coming toward him. He waited, then he saw the women coming toward the tomb. His father, Zeke and Remo flew just above the women, out of sight.
Suddenly Abner’s face began to shine like the sun and his clothing became very white as the women came to the tomb.
“You don’t need to be afraid,” Abner said to the women. “I know you are looking for Jesus. He’s not here. He has risen just like he said. Now, go back to the city and tell his disciples and Peter to go to Galilee and they will find him just like he said. You can go with them to Galilee too. He gave me this message to give to you.”
So the women turned around and started back to Galilee. Abner joined his father, Zeke and Remo and watched over the women as they were returning to Jerusalem. Suddenly Jesus appeared and began to talk with the women. The women dropped to the ground and worshipped Jesus. The angels saw Jesus help them to their feet.
Jesus then said, “Go quickly and tell the disciples to come with you to Galilee and I will see all of you there.” The women got to their feet and ran toward Jerusalem. Jesus then looked up at the four angels, giving them a wink and a wave, then he was gone.
The assignment was over for the angels and they returned home. There were lots of stories to tell about what happened to Abner, Gabriel, Zeke and Remo. All of them shared their adventure with their families.
A few days later Gabriel came home. “God was really pleased with the work you and your friends did when you rolled away the stone,” Gabriel said. “You now have your first permanent assignment.” The women that Zeke, Remo and I watched over, you three are their angels. You are too watch over them. And Abner, your special assignment is to watch over Mary the mother of Jesus. She is very special and God wants you to personally see to her care. Do you think you can do it?”
“Dad, with God beside me, I know I can do anything.”
Copyright 2017, J. Keith Broyles, All Rights Reserved
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Part One - A New Beginning
"Get up," Geric said to Kelli, who hid under the covers of her bed.
"Damn it," Kelli groaned. "I've only been asleep for five minutes and I've been awake for the last three days...without so much as a second's rest. Can we talk about this later when I am fully rested?"
"I'm afraid not," Geric replied.
"Too bad," Kelli said, rolling on her stomach. " I need my sleep."
"You don't sound too...happy," Geric commented. "It's...unlike you."
"Try staying up for three days straight. If I say I need sleep, then I need sleep."
"I've recently received news that Robert is coming back..."
"Why is that so important that you have to wake me up five minutes after I stated to drift off in my sleep?" Kelli asked rubbing her eyes.
"Robert is coming back...alone. It's about...Hargoth. A plague struck, and he got it...and..." Kelli quickly jump from her bed, trying to focus her red eyes on Geric. He wore a black cloak and held his head with his right hand. He combed his black hair with his hand as he tensed his jaw muscles.
"Is he...?" Kelli couldn't finish the question as her mind was filled with sorrow.
Geric nodded. "Yes. The clerics tried raising him...but they couldn't."
Kelli closed her eyes, trying too keep the tears from falling. "A dear friend we have lost...do the others know?"
"You were the last person I told of this news."
"I...I need some time alone. I...I do not expect to see anyone until morning. I...goodnight."
"Rest easy," Geric said, knowing that she would not. "We all have had our tears, already. I see it is your turn." Geric left Kelli alone, closing the door behind him. Kelli collapsed on her bed with her hands over her eyes, like all the others before her. Hargoth Trenth has touched all of their hearts, and Kelli's most of all. They were more then mere friends...they were like brother and sister, at times. Now his death...it brought pain...much pain. Anger swelled in her veins...a powerful anger that did not stop...that would not stop. Fire build in her mind...she wanted...she wanted to kill someone, something that wasn't there. Something that didn't have life, but only death.
Damn it, Hargoth!, she thought. You have a daughter that needs you. Why do you have to leave us, now?
"You will be there, Kelli, when I die," she heard Hargoth's voice. "You will be there because you will outlive me - you know that I will die sooner or later. Be there to guide my daughter through the world...and Robert. You can't allow him to fall into the darker places of his heart."
"Damn it, Hargoth," Kelli whispered. Thoughts passed within her mind as she fell into unconsciousness.
"Master Robert!" Jak hailed to the kara-turan man who drove the wagon. Jak looked at the wet face. Robert Chu suddenly looked up.
"His...his body," Robert said. "I...I could not bring him with me. I..."
"No, sir," Jak said. "We understand. Kelli wishes to speak with you."
"Where is she?"
"By the lake."
Robert climbed down from the carriage. "How did she react?"
"Not well, I'm afraid. We haven't been fairing well...ever since master Hargoth's death...She has taken it the worst so far...well...other then Relsi."
Robert looked at Jak's face and rested his hand on his shoulder. "I will be back soon."
"Goodbye, master Robert."
Robert brushed his raven-black hair and looked at the half-elven woman siting by the edge of the lake surrounded by the ancient forest. Her brown hair blew in the wind as she sang an elven song Robert did not understand. The rhythm was soothing and comforted Robert.
A bow rested at her side and a quiver filled with arrows was strapped on her back.
He advanced towards her and his every step remained silent. Robert was only a yard away when she finished singing and turned her head to look at Robert. Her brown eyes glittered at him.
"It is a song my mother used to sing to me every night," she said. "It always comforted me. I see that it, too, comforted you during this time. Welcome back, Robert."
"Greetings to you, Kellrill Silverylight," Robert said, bowing his head. The half-elf got up and walked over to Robert.
"We have been waiting for you," Kelli said, wrapping her arms around Robert and resting her head on his shoulders. Robert hugged Kelli in turn. "How have you been fairing?"
"Well, but not well enough," Robert replied.
"Join me," Kelli said releasing her arms and walked by the edge of the lake again. Robert followed her. "This was where I first met Hargoth...and I recall that I met Eril here, as well...and you...ha, even Relsi, especially Relsi. This is where Relsi was seen first by anyone. This is where I met most of you young folk."
"Young folk? Did Darahd get to you with that 'children' stuff?"
"Ha! No, no. Not from Darahd...from Hargoth."
"Hargoth? He never said something about young folk."
"Young, reckless folk...all those things. Hargoth would tell Darahd and I all about you, you know. How full of...how did he call it? Ah, yes, potential. He believed that you had a lot of potential."
"Ha. Talking about a street kid who doesn't trust anyone fully. What...what did he say, exactly?"
"I don't think it would be appropriate right now. Besides, I'm trying not to think about Hargoth, which I seem to have failed. Can...you understand the anger I have felt after his death?"
"Then...I am sorry to try to invade privacy -"
"No. It is my fault. I brought it up. I...I just need time to relax...tell me about Neverwinter."
"I...I found a friend...a good friend."
"By that tone, it sound more then just friends. Hmm?"
"We...we did get along...well...I...we grew...attached to each other."
"What is her name?"
"Elisa Aylown...It hurt me when I left Neverwinter. I promised to come back, but the memories of Hargoth...no. I feel I cannot go back no matter how much I love her. A plague struck during an invasion of Neverwinter. A battle raged for days on end...no - weeks. The plague had us, but a number of clerics were required at the walls. Hargoth was among the first to be infected with the plague. He didn't want to be revived, but..."
"Stop. You needn't speak anymore." They looked at each other before they hugged each other one more time...
Anyndir looked at Eril calmly. "The pain will pass. It hurts us all. I know how you feel -"
Eril forced his hand against the table, interrupting Anyndir's speech. "You don't know how damned bad I feel!"
"Not true," Elring said. "We know exactly how you feel."
"You damned elves," Eril said. "You think you know everything just because you live so damned long!"
"Is that how you feel, Eril?" Elring asked, irritated.
"I...!" Eril thought about what he was saying. "I...I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean..."
"Yes. I know," Elring said. "Anger, it is called. Do not let it get to you."
"It is also sorrow. Believe me, I have spent almost a lifetime spending my life thinking about it," Darahd said.
"It's...it's just that I knew Hargoth well...too well that...that..."
"Yes. It is understandable, Eril. I did, as well. When Hargoth and I traveled together, we were close friends - we depended to keep each other alive. I know how you feel, Eril, only too much."
"You seem so calm for one to watch him and know him so well," Eril said to Darahd. "You don't just stay calm in a time like this. It hurts you...it hurts too much...so much." Eril turned to Elring and Anyndir. "And you. How do you elves live with so much pain? Or do you?"
"We just live," Anyndir simply said. "I cannot explain. Even the wisest of men cannot figure it out. We live like you do, or like Darahd."
"I still cannot believe he's actually gone," Jak said. "He...he's got to come back. Right? I mean, he's a fighter! He's got to come back...he's...got...to -"
"Shut up, Jak! He's not coming back, not ever!" Relsi screamed at him as she raised her head. "It's what he was planning, wasn't it? Leaving me alone to fend for myself...thinking only about Robert." She dropped her head again against her wet sleeve.
Darahd took Relsi by the arm, and brought her to the table by the far corner.
"Sometimes it is best to just drop your blade," Elring said.
"What does that mean?" Jak asked.
"Sometimes, you just can't fight. Death is sometimes something you cannot fight. Sometimes, life just fades...and you cannot come back."
"That does not sound reassuring," Eril replied.
"It's not suppose to."
"So life will just go on?"
Anyndir looked at the young man. "Yes. It must."
The door suddenly opened and a black figure walked through and revealed it's face.
Geric look at the people sitting at the table. "We are needed..."
Part 1, A New Beginning
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Her parent’s split up during her childhood.
Her mother had an affair with a man (Richard Webber) whom she will later have to work under at Seattle Grace.
Spent her childhood with a workaholic mother who didn’t pay attention to her.
Her only friend was a doll named Anatomy Jane.
She called 911 as a child – when she discovered her mother had tried to kill herself.
Had an absent Dad named Thatcher.
Her father was an emotionally abusive alcoholic who was in and out of her life.
Her mother Ellis Grey had Alzheimer’s and began to forget her.
She began sleeping with Derek Sheppard without knowing he was still married to his first wife Addison.
Derek ultimately chose Addison over Meredith at first – leaving her completely heart broken.
She had to work with Derek’s wife Addison at Seattle Grace… every day.
She bought a dog named Doc to help her cope with her break-up… and it got cancer and died.
She held a bomb inside the body of a patient… being the only reason it hadn’t yet exploded.
She almost lost her life when the bomb went off.
She became severely depressed.
She momentarily died when she gave up while drowning.
One of her best friends George O’Malley died after being hit by a bus.
Her friend Izzy nearly died of a brain tumor and battle with cancer.
Her friend Izzy leaves town forever.
Her mother died.
She was blamed for her stepmother’s death… after she died from the hiccups.
She went into lockdown with a mass shooter roaming the hospital.
Her husband was shot by the mass shooter.
She attempted to offer her life to the shooter, in trade for Derek’s life.
She suffered a miscarriage.
Her friends Callie and Arizona get into a horrible car crash.
She was briefly fired for messing with an Alzheimer’s trial.
She and her best friends were in a plane accident, leaving them stranded and killing some of them.
Her half sister Lexie dies in the plane crash.
Her friend Mark Sloan also dies.
Her surrogate father figure Richard almost dies after being electrocuted in the hospital basement.
She almost wasn’t able to adopt her baby Zola.
She gave birth to a baby during a power-outage… and almost died.
Her best friend and “person” Christina Yang moved away.
Her marriage was up and down – Derek moved away for a job in Washington.
She discovered she had a new half-sister that she had no idea existed.
Her husband dies saving the lives of car-crash victims – a getting hit by a semi.
She had to decide to ‘pull the plug’ on Derek after discovering he was brain dead.
She almost dies while giving birth, again.
She becomes a single mother of three children.
The doctor that killed Derek comes to work at Grey-Sloan memorial, haunting her.
She was attacked by a patient and briefly looses her ability to both hear and speak.
… God only knows what will happen next.
And when I say God, I really mean Shonda Rhimes.
Find out on Season 13, airing now.
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Hello guys, so yesterday I kind of had a long and great day, I woke very early at 7 am in the morning because my math class starts at 8 am, so I got to school on time, and after class I had 3 hours break, and then, I went for my psychology class, After my psychology class, I went for the choir rehearsal at school, which was amazing, because I got to sing with my classmates, we rehearsed for 2 hours since we have an upcoming event in college on Saturday. Nevertheless, it was fun singing with talented people, and I can’t wait for our performance.
I got to my apartment by 5:30 pm and the first thing I did was, my laundry which took me up to an hour, so I was planning to have dinner but I was running out of time because I needed to go for an evening service in church which starts by 7 pm. I asked my friend Quinn if he could come with me, and he agreed, so we both went to the beautiful service together.
We got to church on time, the choir sang one of my favorite songs, called ‘’Here I am to worship’’, which still stick to my head till now, then Pastor ‘’Evans’’ preached for an hour, the topic was ”why we should involve God in every little thing we do’’, and this topic was so great guys, and got me thinking about my life, I would love to share this message with you,
Basically, he preached, how we Christian doesn’t really involve God in everything we do, and how we should bring God up in every one of our activities, then he finally prayed for us how we can bring him closer in each of our lives.
He started preaching the message by asking the congregation question if we truly as a Christian involve God in the little things we do? If we as a Christian communicate to God to wake us up midnight to learn for an exam? Or ask him to choose an outfit we want to wear for an occasion? Do we ever ask God to teach us how to prepare a nice meal? Do we ask him to teach us how to properly take our shower?
At this point everyone was quiet, and start to meditate in the word, honestly, I said no too few of this questions, because I said to myself, ‘’ First of all, why will I ask God to teach me how to properly take my bath’’, and then I started to rethink how much I have limited God, without even noticing it.
One thing I have to realized, is that, we humans always think that once we have that dream house or expensive car, that is when we know God is involved, well he has always been and want to be involved in every areas of our lives, but since we make it feel like it’s our own doing, we start to put remove God in some aspect of our lives and only involve him, in the area we need him the most. In the book of Psalm 37: 23 “The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives’’ if truly we really realize how important it is, for God to be involved in every part of our lives today, we should make the choice of where he should be, or shouldn’t, because we have to realize that he’s the creator of our lives, and he is willing to help us all in our activities.
Okay friends, thanks for spending your time, to read my post today, and I hope for good changes in your life, in terms of involving God in your lives. I love you all and may the Holy Spirit be with you all always.
Until next time be great.
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Standing at the meadow located behind the garden, I start to brandish the Shaolin Luo Han Quan with extreme happiness. It is said that Lou Han Quan is the origin of the external martial art and that the Shaolin 72 Consummate Martial Art style is evolved from it. A lot of martial artists have taken this hypothesis as a type of joke. As for me, when I reached the strength of the late stage of the Pigu realm, I could distinctly feel the formidable might of the fist technique. According to my conjecture, this set of fist technique is very likely to be the “Arhat Subduing Devil Fist” prevalent in the Buddhism sects of the cultivation world. Both the Arhat Subduing Devil Fist and the Vajrapani (Warrior Attendant) Subduing Devil method are the protected treasures of these sects. However, the latter method is the most wonderful since it is said that the technique is divided into eighteen levels and if one could practice till the end they would be able to directly enter the God’s World bypassing the Immortal’s World. The most extraordinary thing is that there will only be tribulations at the eighteenth level while the rest of the time it is completely safe! As for those cultivation methods which are faster, there are certainly many calamities lying around. With them, a single misstep could cause the scattering of one’s soul which results in one never being able to reincarnate.
Arriving in this era, the happiest thing for me is precisely that I am able to learn this fist technique. The more I use it, the more insight I gain from it. Gradually, the more I practice the slower I move but everything around my surrounding moves along with my fist’s momentum. I am not sure how much time has passed. As I slowly restrain the momentum,I am amazed to discover the sudden state of my inner body. Xiantian True Qi is already beginning to condense! Indeed, this is the sign that I am approaching the Golden Core stage and I am extremely happy. These two days appear to have been extremely lucky days for me. HaHa….
Suddenly, I hear Chun Yu anxiously yelling from in front of the garden: “Young master, young master, it’s not good! The old man from the Ouyang clan has arrived and still wants to settle the previous days matter with you. He is saying that yesterday, you beat his son. Young master, you have to be careful!”
Ai! I shouldn’t have celebrated so soon since things can still go wrong. I was just saying how lucky I was a moment ago! Currently, the old man from Ouyang clan has arrived. Nowadays, this Ouyang old man is operating a joint business with my clan regarding the mining of minerals at the Far East. Ai! This time, things won’t be going well for me…
What am I going to do? This Ouyang old man is extremely crafty and definitely cannot be compared to that precious son of his in that he is actually very difficult to deal with.
Big Brother Lang Feng was passing by my door and saw me and said: “Second brother, what is the matter that has made you distressed? Speak and I will listen and we can see whether I am able to help you think of a solution.” Due to the fact that big brother is my brother，I then agree to allow big brother to enter my sacred land.
“That Ouyang Liang’s father has arrived and is demanding to meet me to settle the matter regarding yesterday. Ai!” I cannot help but to start to be distressed.
“That Ouyang Liang is indeed the first one that you and it Ouyang Liang’s fault. His father is still coming to look for you to settle the matter. This is counted as what and don’t be nervous for why are we to be afraid of him for the truth is with us.” Big brother speaks with him appearing to be indignant. Ai! Such a sincere big brother.
“Big brother, you do not know that this is not that you say we are the truth is with us then the truth will be with us.Just who is coming up forward to be our witness? Furthermore, the conclusion is that I am in a perfect condition while as of his son, he has returned back home yesterday estimated to be in such a weakened state. This battle is going to be difficult to fight it out.” I patiently explain my inner thoughts to my big brother.
“It is better that you think of an idea then as I have no idea I had better go and take for a rest. “ Big brother in the end has displayed his manner of the ten years old.
“Big brother, you just play first in advance as I am going to the main hall.” I then say these sentences directed to him. Walking outwards, I can only rely on myself on confronting this whole matter.
While walking, I am thinking of a countermeasure. Thinking here and there, there is still no much of a good idea. I ultimately decide that I will firmly denied the fact that I have beaten him up. As of the rest, I have to see how the situation is going to turn out.
“Third young master, the head of the Ouyang clan is here. The master is keeping him accompanied. Master has order me to call out for third young master to get here at once and it seems like the matter is regarding the son of the head of the Ouyang clan. Third young master, you have to be careful.” Zhang Zong Guan running towards me then telling me all of this. Zhang Zong Guan is the one has look after me growing up and towards me, he shows extreme care for me. To tell you the truth, of the entire residence, there is only the eldest aunt and second aunt show hostility towards me.
To tell you the truth, I am simply not sure for what reason I am acting in this way? Previously, I had once asked my mother, a beautiful, kind and virtuous woman, but her answer is that I am still too young and it is still not the right time to know yet. Till the moment when I am old enough, she will tell me of it. I had once been distressed about this matter but afterwards, I get over this matter afterwards as it is enough for me to obey the rule and still be in a clear conscience.
At this moment, I abruptly start to think that if I was to go like this, will it be alright? No matter how, I also did not hit Ouyang Liang so why am I so scared for? Humph!
With big strides, I walk towards the hall with nothing to be hidden off.
With neither servile nor overbearing attitude, I enter the main hall.
Raising my head, I take a look at my father sitting upright at the seat of honour together with my eldest aunt. Sitting at the right, is my mother, second aunt, fourth aunt, fifth aunt and sixth aunt. All of my father’s wives are without an exception to be present. It appears that this matter is fully overblown by proportions.
“Seen father, mother, eldest aunt, second aunt, fourth aunt, fifth aunt, and sixth aunt. This child pay my respect to Uncle Ouyang.” I immediately say with me bowing my head.
Why is it that eldest aunt and the rest of the others all here but this matter should not have been that grave. That old man Ouyang is sitting at the left side at the seat of honour. Sitting at below are a crowd of people brought by the old man Ouyang. The old man Ouyang’s frost like face looks towards at me and it appears to have a deep hostility directed at me with practically seem as if he was going to kill me. My mind gives an inner jolt. Don’t tell me that something really happen to Ouyang Liang? Unable to understand, I attentively start to recall back the matter starting from the start to the end. All of a sudden, I start to remember something, a matter that is severely grave which is that the Ouyang Liang is too young. For him to suffer consecutive attack under the influence of the momentum of the chi by both me and big brother Lang Feng, what’s more is that the Ouyang Liang since young has been pampered and spoiled. I can’t say for sure but as of a result, he has collapsed at his home. His wisdom is too frail so how is he able to bear the might of the coercion of the experts. cannot help but to feel a little bit anxious and entirely blaming myself that from the begining, Ouyang Liang and me are speaking to each other with full of deceit. Due to that, it has caused my mind to agree tacitly that his ability to bear ought to be very high. Ai!
“My dear son, it was as if you have threaten, menace or similar conduct towards the young master of the Ouyang clan?” My mother immediately asks as if she is extremely anxious clearly and also her showing of worriness in her eyebrows are what I obtain from my clear observation. In the end, what has happened? Even Ouyang Liang was to be have been ill,it should not have been able to cause my mother to be in such manner. I cannot help but to wrinkle my eyebrows upwards together.
“My dear son, speak up immediately whether or not you have done it or not ,” father asks with an exceedingly serious and cold tone.
I start to have a jolt for this is the first time that my father has said to me in such a manner. After all, as of a child till now my father has been doting after me but as of this time, he has went as far as such in treating me in such manner. I cannot help but to be somewhat angered. Lifting me head up, I speak one word after another with my eyes looking straightforward directly towards of my father, “I did not.”
“You didn’t. Good, the tremendous third young master has forced my son for his entire lifetime to be gone. Haha, and yet you still do not want to admit it. You yourself have said that yesterday my son besides being bullied by you, is there still anyone that has conflict with him? Humph! Humph! I, Ouyang Ming Qing will get my revenge even I am to lose all of family’s fortune. “
“Ouyang clan head, regarding this matter, I will definitely give you an explanation for it. You do not have to worry.Today, the prefecture magistrate of the Suzhou minister is also here and you have also brought out a big group of witness so you do not have to worry at all.” my father immediately replies.
The head of the subordinate of the clan head of the Ouyang clan stands up with his hands held together giving a bow then saying, “I will definitely act justly and I am hoping that both the duke and the earl are to be rest assured.” That old man is the prefectural magistrate of the Suzhou and appears to be have an exceedingly serious expression. It appears that this matter is is awfully troublesome. In the end, what has happened for the old man Ouyang to say that his son is finished. How is he to be finished for he is finished for just contracting an illness? Don’t tell me that my luck is that terrible for I just slightly intimidated the person and this has made him to be ruined.
On the entire Ming dynasty, of those big clans, they are granted with nobility ranks, distinguishing themselves are duke, earl as well as baron and these ranks are merely for the merchants. As for to be the real officials of the five officials of feudal nobility are the duke, marquis, count, viscount and baron.
My father’s eyebrows then wrinkles as he questions, “My dear son, you have to speak the truth regarding in the end what has happened from the beginning as things really are.”
“Third young master, you have to speak as how it really is as at my side, I have many witnesses.” the old man Ouyang immediately say it with an icy cold tone.
“The head of Ouyang clan, for this matter to happen to be like this, all of us are feeling very sorry for it. Please do hear out from my son as he says out the whole matter thoroughly” my father immediately says. My father in any case is still head of the Zhang clan which is one of the big four influential families and therefore, the old man Ouyang will not dare not to give face to my father.
I indifferently say, “Everybody, on that day, the moment when I have arrived at the garden of the western city, the Ouyang young master is right at there. Laterwards, he permits his Shi Dou to come forward to seek for guidance regarding the martial arts. After that, I then defeat his Shi Dou and found out that his Shi Dou is pitiful for he enters the Ouyang clan for his mother. I then allow Ouyang Liang to send his Shi Dou’s mother to Xing Feng Pavilion. Then, Ouyang young master then commanded his subordinate to send his Shi Dou’s mother. Finally, all of you look out for me and it is just like this.”
My father immediately says, “Head of the Ouyang clan, is what my son has said regarding the matter is it true or not.”
“The third young master is indeed tremendous to unexpectedly avoid the important facts but only dwell in the trivial facts only. He simply do not say the details. Does he dare to say that he did not threaten my son.Humph!”
“Uncle Ouyang, I dare to say that I did not even say any little bit of threatening words to him.You can find anyone present at the scene to confirm,” I say with self-confidence. To tell you the truth, from the beginning till the end, I did not even say any threatening words. It is just that I use the momentum of my chi to coerce him.
“Asking those kids to speak out and what do they know? They are just a few years old and their word cannot be taken as real. I got a way to proof that everything is done by the third young master. Ah Tian, tell you how young master’s conduct and bearing was at that day.” the old man Ouyang turns his head towards a person while speaking.
“Yes, master. At that day, from the early morning when young master is awake, I have attended to young master. I still remember the young master’s mood is very good on that day. In the early of the morning, he has eaten his morning meal then giddily heading to the garden at the western city. We the servants were guarding at the outside of the gate. Those group of young masters had said that they do not permit the adults to enter the garden and only permit children to enter. Waiting at the outside of a while for a moment, the third young master has brought his friends. After a period of time, a group of children exit with each one of them having a strained expression then heading back home. A moment later, young master also exit with a pale face. What’s more is that cold sweat was over his face. I am even believed that the young master is ill, Young master immediately commanded to return back to the mansion and also request us to immediately to send the Shi Dou’s mother to the third young master’s Xing Feng pavilion. Later, the young master laid down on top the bed the moment he has returned. That very night, young master suffered from high fever and then a medical saint arrived.”
The old man with a wide body downing a sleeved robe and the hair combed into a shape of bun immediately gets up while speaking, “Your excellency Duke, Your excellency Earl and Your excellency prefecture magistrate, based on my experience for practicing medicine of forty years. Ouyang young master must have suffer from a very strong and dangerous threaten to the point where the state of the mind is unable to defend against. That very night, he has also suffered from the chill wind and together with the complications of the high fever have caused both the inside and the outside to flare-up simultaneously. In addition to that, Ouyang young master’s age is still very young, his capabilities of resisting is still very weak and at that time when he is suffering from high fever until there is something wrong Ouyang young master’s head. Ouyang young master’s age is too young as of me, I am unable to recover the illness for my capabilities is too low. Afterwards, it is estimated for lifetime that his brain is unable to recover back.”
I am blanked for it is impossible, right? His brain is destroyed. How am I having such a bad luck? For I just coerce him lightly with the momentum of my chi. How is it that it has ended to such extend?
“Zhang Tian De, can you tell me that in the end whose mistake is it? Ah! My child is finished just like this and he is but my one and only. You tell me, ah.”The old man Ouyang starts to go a bit mad and he is not to be blame for that he old man Ouyang is already fifty years old this year and this Ouyang Liang is borned as a son when he was quite old. At this moment, his treasure son is at this state and it will have been weird if he has not gone mad.
“The head of the Ouyang clan, you do not have to be worry for everything will soon be clear. There is so many people here and you still scare that you are not given with justice.” my father immediately says as he pacifies the old man Ouyang. This old man Ouyang is definitely to be worthy of one generation’s formidable person. Sitting down, he starts to collect back and control his mood.
“Dear son, is what the person from the Ouyang residence speak of is the truth?” my father turns his head facing towards me as he is asking the question.
“I have not threaten or menace him.” I am to insist that I do not threaten or menace Ouyang Liang. After speaking those words, I am starting to regret it for wouldn’t it admit that the moment when Ouyang Liang exit is that his face is is not that good. All of the other children have run away and wouldn’t have that meant that the result is as of one? Ah! Such headache. What is it to be done?
The old man Ouyang sitting at the chair start to sneer.
My mother starts to look a bit of worried.
First aunt and second aunt’s face are both full of smiles.
Father’s eyebrows immediately starts to wrinkles but he nevertheless speak, “Dear son, you then speak why is that the moment when you all enter and then come out, Ouyang young master’s face pale?”
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Tiren is a Daimon Heart Snatcher who was sent by Kaorinite to extract Pure Hearts. As she was created from a motorcycle, she has a tire in her gut, which she can use to drive like a motorcycle. She can shoot rings at people, and chain them together as well. She can also create a clone of herself. She appeared in Sailor Moon S Episode 9, Friendly Foes.
Kaorinite created her from a biker's motorcycle to extract a biker's Pure Heart. This, however, was bait to destroy Sailor Neptune and Sailor Uranus. She chained Sailor Moon and Sailor Uranus together, but they were able to fight together. Sailor Uranus destroyed her clone with World Shaking, and Sailor Moon destroyed the original Tiren with Moon Spiral Heart Attack.
Her name is based off the word "tire".
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There was once a poor widow who lived in a lonely cottage. In front of the cottage was a garden wherein stood two rose-trees, one of which bore white and the other red roses. She had two children who were like the two rose-trees, and one was called Snow-white, and the other Rose- red. They were as good and happy, as busy and cheerful as ever two children in the world were, only Snow-white was more quiet and gentle than Rose-red. Rose-red liked better to run about in the meadows and fields seeking flowers and catching butterflies; but Snow-white sat at home with her mother, and helped her with her housework, or read to her when there was nothing to do.
The two children were so fond of one another that they always held each other by the hand when they went out together, and when Snow- white said: ‘We will not leave each other,’ Rose-red answered: ‘Never so long as we live,’ and their mother would add: ‘What one has she must share with the other.’
They often ran about the forest alone and gathered red berries, and no beasts did them any harm, but came close to them trustfully. The little hare would eat a cabbage-leaf out of their hands, the roe grazed by their side, the stag leapt merrily by them, and the birds sat still upon the boughs, and sang whatever they knew.
No mishap overtook them; if they had stayed too late in the forest, and night came on, they laid themselves down near one another upon the moss, and slept until morning came, and their mother knew this and did not worry on their account.
Once when they had spent the night in the wood and the dawn had roused them, they saw a beautiful child in a shining white dress sitting near their bed. He got up and looked quite kindly at them, but said nothing and went into the forest. And when they looked round they found that they had been sleeping quite close to a precipice, and would certainly have fallen into it in the darkness if they had gone only a few paces further. And their mother told them that it must have been the angel who watches over good children.
Snow-white and Rose-red kept their mother’s little cottage so neat that it was a pleasure to look inside it. In the summer Rose-red took care of the house, and every morning laid a wreath of flowers by her mother’s bed before she awoke, in which was a rose from each tree. In the winter Snow-white lit the fire and hung the kettle on the hob. The kettle was of brass and shone like gold, so brightly was it polished. In the evening, when the snowflakes fell, the mother said: ‘Go, Snow- white, and bolt the door,’ and then they sat round the hearth, and the mother took her spectacles and read aloud out of a large book, and the two girls listened as they sat and spun. And close by them lay a lamb upon the floor, and behind them upon a perch sat a white dove with its head hidden beneath its wings.
One evening, as they were thus sitting comfortably together, someone knocked at the door as if he wished to be let in. The mother said: ‘Quick, Rose-red, open the door, it must be a traveller who is seeking shelter.’ Rose-red went and pushed back the bolt, thinking that it was a poor man, but it was not; it was a bear that stretched his broad, black head within the door.
Rose-red screamed and sprang back, the lamb bleated, the dove fluttered, and Snow-white hid herself behind her mother’s bed. But the bear began to speak and said: ‘Do not be afraid, I will do you no harm! I am half-frozen, and only want to warm myself a little beside you.’
‘Poor bear,’ said the mother, ‘lie down by the fire, only take care that you do not burn your coat.’ Then she cried: ‘Snow-white, Rose- red, come out, the bear will do you no harm, he means well.’ So they both came out, and by-and-by the lamb and dove came nearer, and were not afraid of him. The bear said: ‘Here, children, knock the snow out of my coat a little’; so they brought the broom and swept the bear’s hide clean; and he stretched himself by the fire and growled contentedly and comfortably. It was not long before they grew quite at home, and played tricks with their clumsy guest. They tugged his hair with their hands, put their feet upon his back and rolled him about, or they took a hazel-switch and beat him, and when he growled they laughed. But the bear took it all in good part, only when they were too rough he called out: ‘Leave me alive, children,
‘Snow-white, Rose-red, Will you beat your wooer dead?’
When it was bed-time, and the others went to bed, the mother said to the bear: ‘You can lie there by the hearth, and then you will be safe from the cold and the bad weather.’ As soon as day dawned the two children let him out, and he trotted across the snow into the forest.
Henceforth the bear came every evening at the same time, laid himself down by the hearth, and let the children amuse themselves with him as much as they liked; and they got so used to him that the doors were never fastened until their black friend had arrived.
When spring had come and all outside was green, the bear said one morning to Snow-white: ‘Now I must go away, and cannot come back for the whole summer.’ ‘Where are you going, then, dear bear?’ asked Snow- white. ‘I must go into the forest and guard my treasures from the wicked dwarfs. In the winter, when the earth is frozen hard, they are obliged to stay below and cannot work their way through; but now, when the sun has thawed and warmed the earth, they break through it, and come out to pry and steal; and what once gets into their hands, and in their caves, does not easily see daylight again.’
Snow-white was quite sorry at his departure, and as she unbolted the door for him, and the bear was hurrying out, he caught against the bolt and a piece of his hairy coat was torn off, and it seemed to Snow-white as if she had seen gold shining through it, but she was not sure about it. The bear ran away quickly, and was soon out of sight behind the trees.
A short time afterwards the mother sent her children into the forest to get firewood. There they found a big tree which lay felled on the ground, and close by the trunk something was jumping backwards and forwards in the grass, but they could not make out what it was. When they came nearer they saw a dwarf with an old withered face and a snow-white beard a yard long. The end of the beard was caught in a crevice of the tree, and the little fellow was jumping about like a dog tied to a rope, and did not know what to do.
He glared at the girls with his fiery red eyes and cried: ‘Why do you stand there? Can you not come here and help me?’ ‘What are you up to, little man?’ asked Rose-red. ‘You stupid, prying goose!’ answered the dwarf: ‘I was going to split the tree to get a little wood for cooking. The little bit of food that we people get is immediately burnt up with heavy logs; we do not swallow so much as you coarse, greedy folk. I had just driven the wedge safely in, and everything was going as I wished; but the cursed wedge was too smooth and suddenly sprang out, and the tree closed so quickly that I could not pull out my beautiful white beard; so now it is tight and I cannot get away, and the silly, sleek, milk-faced things laugh! Ugh! how odious you are!’
The children tried very hard, but they could not pull the beard out, it was caught too fast. ‘I will run and fetch someone,’ said Rose-red. ‘You senseless goose!’ snarled the dwarf; ‘why should you fetch someone? You are already two too many for me; can you not think of something better?’ ‘Don’t be impatient,’ said Snow-white, ‘I will help you,’ and she pulled her scissors out of her pocket, and cut off the end of the beard.
As soon as the dwarf felt himself free he laid hold of a bag which lay amongst the roots of the tree, and which was full of gold, and lifted it up, grumbling to himself: ‘Uncouth people, to cut off a piece of my fine beard. Bad luck to you!’ and then he swung the bag upon his back, and went off without even once looking at the children.
Some time afterwards Snow-white and Rose-red went to catch a dish of fish. As they came near the brook they saw something like a large grasshopper jumping towards the water, as if it were going to leap in. They ran to it and found it was the dwarf. ‘Where are you going?’ said Rose-red; ‘you surely don’t want to go into the water?’ ‘I am not such a fool!’ cried the dwarf; ‘don’t you see that the accursed fish wants to pull me in?’ The little man had been sitting there fishing, and unluckily the wind had tangled up his beard with the fishing-line; a moment later a big fish made a bite and the feeble creature had not strength to pull it out; the fish kept the upper hand and pulled the dwarf towards him. He held on to all the reeds and rushes, but it was of little good, for he was forced to follow the movements of the fish, and was in urgent danger of being dragged into the water.
The girls came just in time; they held him fast and tried to free his beard from the line, but all in vain, beard and line were entangled fast together. There was nothing to do but to bring out the scissors and cut the beard, whereby a small part of it was lost. When the dwarf saw that he screamed out: ‘Is that civil, you toadstool, to disfigure a man’s face? Was it not enough to clip off the end of my beard? Now you have cut off the best part of it. I cannot let myself be seen by my people. I wish you had been made to run the soles off your shoes!’ Then he took out a sack of pearls which lay in the rushes, and without another word he dragged it away and disappeared behind a stone.
It happened that soon afterwards the mother sent the two children to the town to buy needles and thread, and laces and ribbons. The road led them across a heath upon which huge pieces of rock lay strewn about. There they noticed a large bird hovering in the air, flying slowly round and round above them; it sank lower and lower, and at last settled near a rock not far away. Immediately they heard a loud, piteous cry. They ran up and saw with horror that the eagle had seized their old acquaintance the dwarf, and was going to carry him off.
The children, full of pity, at once took tight hold of the little man, and pulled against the eagle so long that at last he let his booty go. As soon as the dwarf had recovered from his first fright he cried with his shrill voice: ‘Could you not have done it more carefully! You dragged at my brown coat so that it is all torn and full of holes, you clumsy creatures!’ Then he took up a sack full of precious stones, and slipped away again under the rock into his hole. The girls, who by this time were used to his ingratitude, went on their way and did their business in town.
As they crossed the heath again on their way home they surprised the dwarf, who had emptied out his bag of precious stones in a clean spot, and had not thought that anyone would come there so late. The evening sun shone upon the brilliant stones; they glittered and sparkled with all colours so beautifully that the children stood still and stared at them. ‘Why do you stand gaping there?’ cried the dwarf, and his ashen- grey face became copper-red with rage. He was still cursing when a loud growling was heard, and a black bear came trotting towards them out of the forest. The dwarf sprang up in a fright, but he could not reach his cave, for the bear was already close. Then in the dread of his heart he cried: ‘Dear Mr Bear, spare me, I will give you all my treasures; look, the beautiful jewels lying there! Grant me my life; what do you want with such a slender little fellow as I? you would not feel me between your teeth. Come, take these two wicked girls, they are tender morsels for you, fat as young quails; for mercy’s sake eat them!’ The bear took no heed of his words, but gave the wicked creature a single blow with his paw, and he did not move again.
The girls had run away, but the bear called to them: ‘Snow-white and Rose-red, do not be afraid; wait, I will come with you.’ Then they recognized his voice and waited, and when he came up to them suddenly his bearskin fell off, and he stood there a handsome man, clothed all in gold. ‘I am a king’s son,’ he said, ‘and I was bewitched by that wicked dwarf, who had stolen my treasures; I have had to run about the forest as a savage bear until I was freed by his death. Now he has got his well-deserved punishment.
Snow-white was married to him, and Rose-red to his brother, and they divided between them the great treasure which the dwarf had gathered together in his cave. The old mother lived peacefully and happily with her children for many years. She took the two rose-trees with her, and they stood before her window, and every year bore the most beautiful roses, white and red.
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Sunday, 25th August 2019 - 10:51:43 am
Ahmed was sent to England. After a few months of tutoring, he had learned the language well enough to enter a public school that catered to foreign students. Among other nationalities there were about two dozen Iranian students at the school. About half the students were English. Ahmed noticed that all the students stayed in groups of their own nationality. They even slept among their own.
Ahmed insisted that he be housed with the English students. Since the choice was his, he was allowed to do so. It was very difficult for him at first.
"It is one thing," he was told by the student in the next bed, 'to have to attend classes with the filthy wogs, but quite another to have a filthy wog in the next bed. You do see the distinction don't you, old boy?"
He was subjected to a great deal of physical as well as verbal abuse. Ahmed took it all in silence. Through it all he listened and observed.
One advantage of not having fellow countrymen that he could run to was that there was no group that his English classmates could identify him with. It's far more difficult to persecute on an individual basis than on a group basis. His classmates noticed that Ahmed didn't seem to be Arab or Iranian or anything else.
It all changed one day when Ahmed got into an altercation with a group of Iranians. A fight broke out just as some of Ahmed's English classmates were passing by. Several Iranians were fighting him at the same time. Ahmed was fighting back but getting the worst of it.
"My word," one of Ahmed's classmates said, "is that our wog those chaps are beating on?"
"Whatever for, I wonder." Another said.
"We can't have that," a third said. "There"ll be no one for us to beat on later."
So with cries of, "Save our wog," the English students joined the fight and scattered the Iranians.
From that day on, Ahmed became "our wog." If he wasn't treated as an equal by the English students, he was treated as being several steps above any other foreign students in the school, including the Australians and Americans.
Another advantage of not having fellow countrymen at the school was that there was no language Ahmed could speak except English. (He could speak Farsi and Turkish but he avoided the Iranians and there were no Turks at the school.) He listened very closely to the upper class English spoken by the students with whom he lived. He could hear the differences between that and the English spoken by the Australians, Americans and some lower class English who also attended the school.
Inside of a year he had lost his Kurdish accent completely. The only thing that distinguished "our wog" from his upper class English classmates was his dark complexion and his somewhat large, slightly hooked, nose.
By the time Ahmed entered oxford all traces of the Kurdish tribal prince were beneath the surface. He had acquired a smooth social veneer that made him welcome in almost any society. Even the days of being "our wog" were behind him. The few boys from his public school who had managed to enter the university were widely scattered and he seldom saw them.
But everything was for a purpose and he never lost sight of that purpose. Apparently idle questions gave him leads, the leads gave him prospects, and the prospects gave him solid sources. It was guns that he wanted and it was guns that he found. Nothing that he could use then but, having found them once, he knew that he could find them again when he could use them.
At the end of his second year at Oxford, word reached him that his father had died. He had become the Khan.
Wonderful place for a footer
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I’m doing a little Friday Night Happy Dance to celebrate receiving the Ancestor Approved Award from Jennie at They Came To Montana – thank you, Jennie! Leslie Ann of Ancestors Live Here started the Award to show appreciation for the genealogy bloggers whose posts we enjoy, and I’m absolutely tickled that my wee blog has this badge in my sidebar – so come in, grab a glass of bubbly and find somewhere to sit down, if you can. Just chuck the cat off the sofa – sorry about the hair. I’ll keep my speech short and try to be entertaining, but having received the award, I now need to specify ten things that I’ve learned about my ancestors that have surprised, humbled, or enlightened me, and then I should pass the award along to ten other genealogy bloggers that I feel are also deserving of it!
Ten things that have surprised, humbled or enlightened me about my ancestors:
- Enlightened to find that my grandparents were not married by my grandad’s father, who was a Minister – it turns out that they ran away to Gretna Green to get married, probably due to the fact that my granny was pregnant. Oops-a-daisy!
- Humbled to discover that that my Dad’s much-loved and loving grandfather was orphaned at a very young age (no one had ever told me) and was looked after by his one of his unmarried aunts who must have given up her chance of marriage to look after him and his brother. In turn, he looked after her once he married and they lived together until her death. You can read the story of Auntie Margaret here on my other more sensible blog, but have a tissue handy!
- Surprised to discover that my GGG grandfather, John Stevens’ cause of death was noted as “suicide” – why would someone who lived to the ripe old age of 72 commit suicide by jumping off the Friarton Bridge (of which he was the toll-keeper) in 1858? I spent ages going through Court Records (were they short of money?) and Newspapers (was there a scandal?) and eventually found an article which said that “he hadn’t been himself lately”. I’m guessing he was losing his marbles and a bit confused at the time, but can’t prove anything from the papers available, but I sat snivelling in the A K Bell Library in Perth for someone I had never known. As you do.
- Enlightened to discover that all the Grahams in my family were farmers as far back as John Graham, who was born in 1794 in Scone, Perthshire and farmed at Cairnbeddie, St Martins, Perth. His son, Patrick was my GG grandfather, who died young and left his sons orphaned (see No 2) and also farmed at Cairnbeddie. John Graham’s father was Patrick or Peter (the names were interchangeable in Scotland at the time) Graham, who was a mason in Scone. My sister still farms today, albeit in a different area of Scotland.
- Humbled to find that the brother of Auntie Margaret (mentioned in No 2) David
Alexander (1859 – 1886) was buried at Wellshill Cemetery in Perth with Military Honours. He was a Member of the Perth Troop of Fife Light Horse who attended. The hearse & 1 coach cost 17s/6p. I also nearly got locked in the cemetery the last time I visited, but that’s another blog topic. Suffice to say I did not need to climb the very high railings which looked like being my only option at one point.
- Surprised to find that I have a “serial liar” in the family – Elizabeth Burnett (my GGG grandmother) who was born about 1831 in Stranraer, Wigtown – allegedly. She gave birth to my illegitimate GG grandmother, also Elizabeth Burnett, in 1855 in Cumbernauld, Dumbarton and must have told her daughter that her father was James Burnett, as his name appears on the daughter’s marriage certificate, but I can find no proof. I suspect she came over from Ireland to Scotland, as Stranraer would have been a popular place to land from Ireland. She is still a big Brick Wall!
- Surprised to find that the book that my Granddad, Douglas’s cousin, Captain A F Dickson wrote of his memoirs “Seafaring A Chosen Profession” which is out of print, was up for grabs on Ebay. It turns out that Forrest greatly admired his Big Cousins, not least Douglas for his motorbikes. It’s full of stories about the cousins spending holidays together in Fife, as well as Forrest’s adventures at sea. Real Pirate stories with guns and everything 🙂
- Surprised that my Great Granny’s parents shared the same ancestors – Thomas Pringle and Isabel Knox from Haddington. They were Andrew Dickson’s (1820 – 1906) grandparents and Grace Cunningham’s (1839 – 1929) great grandparents. As far as I can see this has resulted in no problems with numbers of ears etc.
- Surprised to find that, despite the best efforts of my granny, Elsie (of the sewing box blog) my siblings and I are probably NOT the GGGGG grandchildren of Robert Moffat, the missionary and Bible translator, whose daughter married Doctor Livingstone (I Presume). Someone must have told her at an impressionable age that her grandmother was a Moffat (which she was) who was related to the Magnificent Robert Moffat, and it stuck. We were regularly dragged along to his monument in Ormiston, where he was born, to pay homage, however that was fine with us as it was close to the swing park, and being farm kids, we didn’t get much opportunity for such modern entertainments. And finally…
- Surprised to find that there IS a family resemblance over so many generations – my GG grandmother, Margaret Borthwick (1819 – 1865) can be seen in a photo of a painting on one of my earlier blogs – and the poor woman looks just like my Dad in a dress.
I know I’ve been a bit irreverent, but it’s not because I don’t respect my ancestors, it’s because I feel I have come to “know” some of them so well, I can share a family joke with them. As families do… And it seems I have been more “surprised” than anything else so far by my investigations! And equally surprised by receiving the Award 😀
Now, to recommend a further 10 blogs for the Ancestor Approved Award – how can I only have 10? Here we go, in no particular order of preference, but blogs I enjoy and I think you will too, if you’re not already following:
- Amanda Epperson at The Historian’s Family
- Jennifer at On A Flesh & Bone Foundation
- Wayne’s blog Scots Great and Small, People and Places
- David at The Scottish Military Research Group
- Barbara at Life From the Roots
- Kerry at Cluewagon
- The Hummer at Branching Out Through the Years
- Cheryl at Have You Seen My Roots?
- Sue at Family History Fun
- Cheri at Journeys Past
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Penelope Jones was born in Ithaca, NY. She received a BFA from Maine College of Art (formerly Portland School of Art), and an MFA from Cornell University. Following grad school, she worked and exhibited in Boston for several years, before returning to Portland, Maine, where she currently resides and exhibits. She began teaching painting and drawing in 1992 - and has taught at various institutions including Cornell University, University of Southern Maine, Maine College of Art, and Bowdoin College. Currently she teaches at Bates College in Lewiston, Maine, where she has been a lecturer for 19 years.
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About Dr. Harbertson
After dental school, Dr. Harbertson obtained a position as as Oral Surgery Intern at the VA Hospital in Long Beach, California. While working there, he developed a friendship with a Periodontist who really taught him what this profession is all about. He feels grateful for his decision to pursue Periodontics because, as he says, “it is a perfect fit for me".
He was born in a suburb of Salt Lake City, called Holiday. He met his wife at the University of Utah where he received his Bachelor of Arts degree in Spanish. After graduation, they moved to Omaha so he could attend Dental School at Creighton University, a place he remembers fondly for the wonderful friendships both he and his wife created and for the birth of their first daughter, Ella.
Once his studies were completed, he and his wife moved to Oklahoma City so he could pursue his Master’s Degree in Periodontics in a residency program at the University of Oklahoma. It was during this time, they decided that with all of the family they had in San Diego, they should began their search there for a practice to join. It was a perfect fit to join Dr. Bourcy.
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Kellogg spent the year 1900-01 at the University of Berlin, then moved to Göttingen where he spent 1901-02 working for his doctorate. He attended lectures by Hilbert who suggested he undertake research on the Dirichlet problem for plane regions bounded by a finite number of plane curves which met at points where the boundary was not differentiable. Fredholm had just published a major work on the Dirichlet problem but Fredholm's methods did not apply to the regions which Hilbert suggested Kellogg investigate.
In 1902 Kellogg published his first paper giving a direct proof of Fredholm's inversion formula. In January of the following year he received his doctorate for his dissertation Zur Theorie der Integralgleichungen und des Dirichlet'schen Prinzips on the Dirichlet problem but he remained in Germany to the end of the academic year, returning to the United States to take up the post of instructor in mathematics at Princeton. During these years he published two further papers which developed from the work of his thesis.
However Kellogg soon became less than happy with these papers. Partly he had failed to answer the questions Hilbert had asked him to solve though this was understandable since they were much harder than Hilbert had realised. Secondly some of Kellogg's results were incomplete and others were incorrect. Again it is hard to criticise him too much over this since very similar errors were later made by both Hilbert and Poincaré.
Kellogg was appointed to the University of Missouri in 1905 where, despite a heavy teaching and administrative load he was able to publish impressive papers on potential theory. In 1908 he published three papers, namely Potential functions on the boundary of their regions of definition and Double distributions and the Dirichlet problem, both in the Transactions of the American Mathematical Society, and A necessary condition that all the roots of an algebraic equation be real in the Annals of Mathematics. In 1912 he published the important work Harmonic functions and Green's integral in the Transactions of the American Mathematical Society. This paper includes what today is called 'Kellogg's theorem' on harmonic and Green's functions. He was promoted to professor at the University of Missouri in 1910 and, in the following year, he married Edith Taylor; they had one daughter.
Although he would return to potential theory, Kellogg next published a number of papers on sets of real orthogonal functions. However his work was disrupted by World War I when he was assigned as scientific advisor to the United States Coast Guard Academy at New London, Connecticut. There he worked on mathematical problems which arose in the design of devices to detect submarines. At the end of the war he was appointed to Harvard University to replace Maxime Bôcher who died in September 1918. His first appointment to Harvard was as a lecturer but in 1920, the year following his appointment, he was promoted to associate professor, then to full professor in 1927.
Kellogg published the paper Invariant points in function space jointly with G D Birkhoff in 1922. This contains the Birkhoff-Kellogg Theorem which generalises the Brouwer fixed point theorem. Kellogg published the classic text Foundations of potential theory in 1929 (it was reprinted in 1967). Zund writes:-
Accessible to both advanced undergraduates and beginning graduate students, it was noteworthy for its rigour and felicitous style. While not specifically mentioned, many of the proofs in the volume - even of well-known results - are original and due to Kellogg himself. This volume also includes the first statement of the celebrated Kellogg-Evans Lemma (proven in generality by Griffith C Evans in 1933).In addition to his work on potential theory and orthogonal set of functions he published a short paper on the problem of the maximum value an of a positive integer belonging to a set of n positive integers whose reciprocals add to 1. In fact the answer is given by
He wrote a number of articles on the teaching of mechanics, and published a textbook, written jointly with Hedrick, Applications of the calculus to mechanics (1909). He published Some properties of spherical curves, with applications to the gyroscope in the Transactions of the American Mathematical Society in 1923.
Kellogg continued to work at Harvard until his death which resulted from a heart attack which he suffered while climbing near Greenville, Maine.
Birkhoff writes in :-
His quick, generous nature and unusual charm of personality were united with a versatile and original mind. The full story of Kellogg's many successful efforts to help others would be an extraordinary one ... in order to judge his mathematical achievements, it is necessary not only to consider his published work but to take into account his modesty and his readiness to share his nascent ideas with others.At the time of his death he was working on an advanced volume to supplement Foundations of potential theory. After his death Converses of Gauss' theorem on the arithmetic mean was published in the Transactions of the American Mathematical Society.
Article by: J J O'Connor and E F Robertson
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In today's article, we look at some of gaming's interesting and unique long arms of the law. Get your trenchcoat and cigarettes.
If you're anything like me, you probably enjoy a good crime drama or two. I'm a huuuuge fan of the television series Law and Order and all it's numerous spin-offs. But today, we are covering some of the many detectives (or cops) in gaming... Be they good or bad.
Note: This list will contain some spoilers for the backstories of the characters listed within this article. Just a warning.
Bigby Wolf, the protagonist of the comic book series Fables and the fantastic Telltale series The Wolf Among Us. To quote his wiki article: "As the sheriff of Fable, he has the duty of protecting the Fables from the mundies (mundies are normal humans in the Fables/Wolf Among Us universe) as well as themselves. Many facets of Bigby's personality and some of his tactics are determined by the player's dialogue, choices and actions. He is based on the Big Bad Wolf that appears in fairy tales such as Little Red Riding Hood, Three Little Pigs, and Peter and the Wolf."
In the TWAU, Bigby is a mostly clean slate for the player to impose whatever choices they see fit. But he does in fact have a rich background (which is too much to list here, seriously, go play the game) and an overarching character to him. His rough past of being the villain in many stories, Bigby just wants to redeem himself in the eyes of the people. It's up to the player if he succeeds or not.
Jack is probably forgotten by most gamers today, as he was last seen in the game Dead to Rights: Retribution in 2010. However, I'm going to focus on the first two games and the original incarnation of him and not the rebooted one in Retribution. To quote his wiki: "Jack is introduced taking a shots fired call at a construction site. Fighting his way through murderous union workers, he finds the body of his father, Frank. Blinded by anger, he sets out to seek revenge, only to be framed for murder himself and sentenced to death. Once he escapes from prison, he reembarks on his quest to bring his father's killer to justice and discovers a billion-dollar scheme involving Grant City's criminal underworld, his former colleagues in the police department, and the mayor of Grant City himself. Navigating a seemingly endless trail of deceit, betrayal, and corruption, Jack finally finds the people responsible for his father's murder and brings them to justice."
Jack as a character is rather angsty and wisecracky in the first game in the series, toned down for the sequel/prequel Dead to Rights II. However, his personality is completely changed in the Retribution reboot and he comes off as gruff in nature and violent. However, overall, Jack is portrayed as a good cop underneath his tough exterior and will do what's right, no matter the cost.
Scott Shelby is one of the four playable characters in Quantic Dream's Heavy Rain. An ex marine and police lieutenant, he worked as a private investigator since his retirement from the force. His goal is to find out who the Origami Killer is... Or so we are lead to believe for most of the game. Due to the traumatic childhood event of watching his brother die and his father uncaring enough to stop it, Shelby becomes obsessed with finding a father who would actually save his son. This results in him capturing children and forcing their fathers to go through extreme means to save their children.
Hank is a broken man and an alcoholic detective with nothing to lose. Shaken and broken from the loss of his son Cole, Hank lives his life in a state of a drunken stupor and with a chip on his shoulder for androids, believing they are the primary cause of his son's demise. In DBH, he is tasked with investigating cases involving deviant androids and is partnered up with Connor, a RK800 model android sent by Cyberlife to help him with his investigation.
The original Nick Valentine was a prewar detective that got his brain scanned at C.I.T while they treated him for PTSD after Operation Winter's End and after the death of his fiance at the hands of Eddie Winter. The Institute got their hands on Nick's memories and placed them in one of two prototype synth models, the other ending up being DiMA, Nick's "brother", who was an experiment if synths could develop their own personality. Nick is snarky and a wise cracker, smart as a tack to boot considering he has quotes from several famous authors as random lines he'll say during certain missions or certain things the player character does.
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There was a time when Nayeon took insatiable delight in him, stuffing him with sour and sugared relishes, tumbling him, in a random moment of her restless activity, upon his computer chair, and pinioning him while she grabbed his chin sharply with her forefinger and thumb. Sometimes, frantic with some swift tangle of her nerves, she would attack him viciously, hating him for his dark apathetic face, his full scalloped underlip, his deep absorption in a dream. She sought in the world ceaseless entertainment for her restless biting vitality: it infuriated her to see other people seek absorption within themselves-- she hated him at times when, her own wires strumming, she saw his dark face brooding over a book or on some vision. She would tear the book from his hands, and stab him with her cruel savage tongue. She would pout out her lip, goggle her face about stupidly on a drooping neck, assume an expression of dopey idiocy, and pour out on him the horrible torrent of her venom. Sometimes her sweltering and inchoate fury was so great that she tried to push him on the floor and fling the nearest item on him. He did not mind the physical assault so much as he did the poisonous hatred of her tongue, insanely clever in fashioning the most wounding barbs. In these certain situations, he went frantic with horror, jerked unexpectedly from her good graces into hell, he bellowed madly, saw his bountiful angel change in a moment to a snake-haired fury, lost all his sublime faith in love and goodness. He wished desperately that his constricted heart would burst, that something in him would break, that somehow he might escape the stifling prison house of her life.
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Fr Bobby Gilmore, SSC was a founding member of Migrant Rights Centre Ireland and is lifelong President of the MRCI. He was ordained in 1963, and worked in the Philippines from 1964-78. From 1978-92, Bobby was Director of the Irish Emigrant Chaplaincy in Britain. He was a founding member of Cara Housing Association. He also chaired the campaign for justice for the Birmingham Six. He was a founding member of Village of Hope, Montego Bay, Jamaica, where he worked from 1992-99. In 1999 he returned to Ireland. He conducted an education program on migration for the Irish Refugee Council before establishing the Migrant Rights Centre Ireland. Bobby studied at Birbeck College, Lincoln Institute and Camden College, London, as well as De La Salle College in Manila.
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fc4538fa5d23f50f1d5c58211dcff62949f3e521dbbabb94084bc6f4eadff428
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The Devil is in the details of this supernatural thriller! Gabriel is a special boy, living in an orphanage his entire life with no memory of his parents. He is considered autistic by many. In reality, he is not. He appears autistic because he is hearing a voice. The voice is real, but it is a supernatural presence. What the voice gives him is a power that he can transfer by touch. Gabriel is the starting point for a change that is happening to many young people just like himself, all over the world. The change is wondrous and difficult at the same time. One thing is certain. The voice holds power beyond anything any of these young people could have ever imagined. This power is changing everyone, one beautiful child after another. The problem with this mysterious blessing is that Gabriel does not trust this voice completely. This distrust never leaves him, and for good reason, but Gabriel finds that the wonder of what he is experiencing is far too great for him to resist.
Below, Gabriel experiences the shock of actually, “hearing” the voice for the first time.
“If only I could tell someone what this is like! God! What is wrong with me? What is wrong?”
Gabriel was screaming with a tremendous power of his own, not with his voice, but with his mind. As soon as he screamed these thoughts, which he had done so many times through the years, he received the one thing he had always been very, very scared of, an actual answer. His body tensed to rigidity as the sound rose from within. As often as he had felt a communication with this presence, he had never had an interaction like this. Before today he had heard “voice” whisperings to his body, mind and soul, and these were very strong, but seemingly subconscious. What was happening now was completely new, and extremely unsettling. He was really hearing now.
To make it even more difficult for the boy to deal with, this was much more than just a voice, it was a sound of so much complexity that the richness of it made Gabriel senseless for a moment. It was the sound of the universe, every timbre of an orchestra, every harmonic of all the tones of every instrument in the world, buzzing together in something beyond harmony. This sound made extreme loudness seem quiet. It was all encompassing, crushing, like a freight train coming straight for you, the ground shaking, and a complete madness. Still, with all this, Gabriel could not resist it, because even with the unstoppable fear, he felt an absolute connection to it that could not be denied.
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I found this 1890s cabinet photo in the WeepingWidow Etsy shop. The image of the three young women is lovely however I bought it because of the location, Angola, Indiana, one of my hometowns. I was hoping I would find lots of newspaper articles featuring the women’s social activities however that was not the case. Still, I’ll share the little bit I did find.
Writing on the reverse identifies the three as “Miss Blanch Cartright (sic), Miss Osa McClarg, and Miss Nettie McClarg.” I suspect the writing was done by one of the McClarg girls or someone close to them as their names are spelled correctly while Blanche Cartwright’s name is not.
Osa and Blanche were two years younger than Nettie, who was born in 1873. Based on their ages and research into the photographer I date this image to about 1893.
The photographer, Charles Cary, operated a photo gallery in Angola from 1890 to about 1899 when he began offering machine shop work and bicycle repair and rental from the location.
None of the young women resided in Angola which makes me ever so curious about what brought them to Cary’s photography studio. Osa and Nettie McClarg, whose given names were Mary Osa and Eva Garnet, grew up in Noble County, Indiana while Blanche was from Allen County. The girls lived a mere 18 miles apart and approximately 40-45 miles southwest of Angola.
It’s possible they were attending the Normal College in Angola. In 1895 and 1896 Blanche was working as a teacher in Fort Wayne, a position which most likely would have required her to take some college courses, and Nettie noted on the 1940 census that she completed 1 year of college.
Whatever brought them together in Angola in the mid-1890s, they were all married and having children by 1899. Osa and Nettie married farmers and lived out their long lives in the Noble County area, while Blanche wed a dentist and traveled quite a bit, living in North Dakota, Chicago, and Saskatchewan, Canada. A family tree on ancestry notes that she performed missionary and welfare work while in Canada. Blanche died at the age of 58 and her resting place is unknown.
Find A Grave
Indiana death certificates
Indiana marriage records
Saskatchewan Canada burial index
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Successfully raising goats does require some knowledge especially on the different types of goat breeds and the proper way to feed a goat. Raising goats as pets may be a consideration for certain breeds and some of these breeds will also provide you with incredible milk to drink or to turn into cheese.
Of course, you will have to learn how to properly milk a goat which will vary from goat breed to individual goat. Some goats are much easier to milk than others because of their temperament and size of their teats.
From my own personal experience of visiting different farms with goats, proper goat feed and care plays a very important role in keeping your goats healthy as well as improving the quality of their milk.
Milking goats enables you to have fresh milk as well as gives you the
ability to make your own yogurt, goat cheese, butter, and soap. Most of the world's people consume goat milk rather than cow's milk. Did you know that you can make great cheese from goat milk?
Goat milk is higher in calcium and goat milk is naturally homogenized compared to cow's milk.
Also, raising goats requires a lot less space and is relatively less expensive compared to raising cows.
Goats eat much more like deer which are browsers. Goats are also much more flexible in their eating habits than cows or even sheep. Their ability to browse and to be flexible with the consumption of numerous plants enables goats to survive in many different types of environments.
Goats are best described as a small ruminant that likes to forage for its food.
Goats can be used to clear unwanted plants such as ivy, nettles, thistles, and morning glories from your land or property.
However, when an adequate amount of forage or land is not available, supplemental goat feed becomes necessary. And there is much controversy over what's the best type of supplemental feed for raising goats.
And there are hundreds of goat breeds found throughout the world.
You may be surprised that lustrous fibers known as mohair as well as cashmere come from goats.
However, if you're looking for the best dairy goat, you will want to find out which ones will produce a lot of milk.
There are goat breeds that are considered dual-purpose or
multi-purpose goats. And these goats will be used for meat as well as dairy. Also, certain breeds can make great pets for your family and also provide you with really great tasting milk.
This is my sister-in-law with a couple of her goats as pets - she actually has 3 Nigerian does. A goat can make a great pet!
Goats in general are easy to handle and respond well to human attention - some breeds better than others.
A goat can respond to a name you give it. However, keeping a goat indoors would probably not be the best place to house your goat.
Some people like pygmy goats as pets because they are easy to raise and handle, but not so good for milking.
Pygmy goats will have smaller teats and smaller udders compared to Nigerian dwarfs - which can be a problem when trying to milk.
A Nigerian dwarf is reasonable in size and able to supply a good amount of creamy milk - up to 2 quarts per day.
Females (called does) and castrated males (called wethers) are preferred for goats as pets. Unless, you are interested in breeding goats. Just be aware that male bucks may have an offensive odor during mating season.
Make sure you are zoned for raising goats as pets before you invest in one. Since a goat is a herd animal, having at least two goats would probably be best for your pet goat.
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On Jan. 29, Manhasset High School’s International Club welcomed Holocaust survivor Alexander Konstantyn to speak to students about his experiences in commemoration of International Holocaust Remembrance Day. The turnout was tremendous as the school auditorium was packed.
Mr. Konstantyn was born an only child on Sept. 1, 1937, in Varenz, Poland, to Baruch and Hannah Konstantyn. In the summer of 1941, his family left this small, Jewish village to avoid being captured. They passed as Polish refugees who were fleeing the warzone and for months, they slept outdoors. Alexander’s father was poisoned by a man who offered them refuge in a bunker once he learned he was Jewish. Alexander and his mother were imprisoned, but they managed to escape and found shelter for 20 months with a farmer who had had business relations with Alexander’s father. They were liberated in late 1944 by the Russian army.
Hannah remarried after the war, and at the insistence of Alexander’s stepfather, they left for Israel in 1950 to join his family members. Alexander completed high school and served in the Israel Defense Forces for two and a half years. In 1962, he moved to the United States to join his family and graduated from Pace University and Jewish Theological Seminary, where he received his B.A. and a Bachelor of Hebrew Letters from these respective institutions. Alexander served as the Educational Director of the East Meadow Jewish Center Religious School for 26 years. Today, he lives with his wife Susan and has two children and eight grandchildren. Alexander lectures extensively at the Holocaust Memorial and Tolerance Center in Glen Cove, Long Island, and Israel.
–Authored by Sophia Hill, International Club President
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At Crimson Lights, Lily was with Mattie and Charlie when Cane phoned. Cane, at the hospital, awaiting Sam's surgery, sought Lily's help. Mattie and Charlie learned that Lily had donated blood for Sam in case the baby needed it during surgery. Lily explained that the hospital had hoped to have additional blood available. Mattie, fearing that Cane's request had hurt Lily, noted that her mom had stepped up even though Lily wasn't related to the infant. Mattie cried that Sam had wrecked her parents' marriage. Lily disagreed. Charlie noted that the baby was helpless and innocent. When Charlie and Lily were leaving to head to the hospital, Mattie stayed behind.
At the coffeehouse, Nikki approached Abby. Nikki asked Abby about the status of her resuming her position at Newman Enterprises. Abby explained that if Victor failed to enter negotiations, she'd refuse to return to the company. Nikki reminded Abby that Victor demanded unconditional devotion. Abby remained obstinate about Victor accepting her terms. Nikki, doubting that Victor would bow to Abby's demands, warned her to consider everything she'd be giving up.
At Chelsea's penthouse, Tessa feared that her dress, which Chelsea had chosen, might be too revealing. Chelsea said, "You look stunning. Noah is going to be speechless." Nick and Noah were waiting in the living room and greeted Chelsea and Tessa when they entered. Both men admired their dates' attire. Chelsea explained that she and Devon had been working with Tessa to conceptualize a new image. Noah said, "You're going to knock them dead at my grandfather's Christmas party." Tessa expressed a desire to skip the party, but Noah said attendance was mandatory.
Nick agreed with Tessa that skipping his dad's party was the best idea. Noah said he felt it was necessary to make an appearance. Nick explained that Victor hadn't invited him to the party. Nick said there was nothing left for Victor to take away from him if Chelsea and Connor opted not to attend the party. Nick's comment made Chelsea uneasy.
Noah and Tessa had a private conversation, and Tessa shared her concerns about Crystal. Noah insisted that Tessa wasn't responsible for what Crystal had done while fighting to protect herself, Abby, and Scott from Zack. Nikki arrived. Nick asked Nikki what she thought about their eclectic tree decorations. Nikki glanced at the tree and remarked, "Well, it is unique!" Nikki greeted Noah and Tessa and said that Tessa looked amazing. Noah and Tessa left after they each received a text message summoning them to the ranch house.
Victor phoned Chelsea and insisted she appear at the party with Connor. Chelsea said she and Nick were enjoying their own festivities. Victor said, "Why would Nicholas prevent Adam's children from attending this beautiful event? Chelsea replied, "You know what's reassuring, Victor? Knowing that you will always do what is best for your grandchildren. Connor is already missing out because his father is not here for these very special moments, and I'm really glad that Christian doesn't have to suffer in the same way."
After Chelsea ended her call, Nikki checked on her. Flustered, Chelsea explained that Victor had placed her in a difficult position by insisting she choose between being at the tree lighting or staying at home with Nick. Nikki said she had the perfect solution. Nikki decided to take Connor to Victor's and allow Nick, Chelsea, and Christian to enjoy their own party.
Chelsea, Nick, and Christian enjoyed being together and decorating for Christmas. Nick gathered Chelsea and Christian close. Christian, holding a stuffed bear, leaned in close to Nick and Chelsea. Nick beamed with joy. After Christian went to bed, Chelsea told Nick that Victor had tried to force her to attend his party. Chelsea said she felt guilty about keeping Connor from spending time with his grandfather. Chelsea said she was grateful that it had all worked out.
At the Newman ranch, Victoria, Reed, and Victor made final preparations before the family tree-lighting ceremony. Devon arrived with a photographer named Tahza and explained that Neil had been called away. Victor told Victoria and Reed that he hoped publication of candid photos showing the tree lighting might help counter bad press about the Newmans. Reed said, "Let the family healing begin." Abby arrived for the family get-together and asked about the photographer. Victor explained that he had a plan to counter the bad press and thought Abby would approve. Abby said she did as long as she wasn't blamed for what had happened. Victor insisted Abby wasn't to blame, which was why Victoria had graciously invited Abby to return to Newman.
Sharon arrived with Faith. Faith presented Victor with a string of berries and popcorn. Victor loved the garland, and Reed helped place it on the tree. Victor asked Sharon to stay, and he encouraged her to summon Scott, too. Victor proclaimed that Scott, a Newman employee, was almost part of the family. Abby reacted to the comment and appeared uneasy.
Reed received a text message from Mattie requesting he meet her at Crimson Lights. Reed kept mum about his text message and told Victoria he'd spilled something on his sweater. Mattie was thrilled to see Reed when he arrived at Crimson Lights. Reed explained that Victoria believed he was in the kitchen, removing a stain from his sweater, so he'd have to return to the ranch soon. Reed gave Mattie a silver bell ornament engraved "2017" and said it was in honor of their first Christmas together. Reed admitted he'd swiped it from his grandfather's Christmas tree. Mattie kissed Reed.
After Reed left the room, Sharon congratulated Victoria on her promotion at Newman and added, "Now lay off my boyfriend." Victoria defended her actions, but Sharon noted that Scott had nearly lost his life while pursuing a story for Hashtag. Scott arrived, explaining that Victor had invited him. Before Victoria rudely walked away, she said, "I'm so glad it all worked out."
Abby approached Victor. Abby, referring to her offer to return to Newman Enterprises, asked Victor if she could report directly to him and not to Victoria. Victor replied, "There's a chain of command that will not be circumvented because that causes confusion. So you report to Victoria." Abby said she would return only if she could appeal decisions to Victor. Victor kissed Abby's cheek and said, "Okay. That better?" Abby nodded in approval.
Devon approached Scott and Sharon and asked to take their photo. Devon advised Scott to clear it with him in the future whenever Scott planned to take part in a sit-down interview with the media. Scott attempted to defend his actions, but Sharon interrupted and reminded them that they were at a party. Tessa and Noah arrived. Devon greeted them and asked them to join Scott, Sharon, and the others for a group photo.
Victor asked to speak to Noah privately. Victor told Noah that Tessa had stolen Nikki's gun and had given it to Tessa's sister. Victor added that the stolen gun had been used to kill Zack Stinnett. Victor insisted that Noah end his relationship with Tessa. Noah said Tessa had acted to protect her sister. Victor suggested that Tessa was taking advantage of the Newman family because they were rich.
Noah privately asked Tessa about the gun. Noah explained that the gun was part of a murder investigation that involved the Newman family. Noah asked Tessa if she was with him because of his money. Tessa insisted she'd stolen the gun for her sister's safety. Tessa said she'd kept it a secret from Noah so he could have deniability. Tessa suggested she and Noah break up, but Noah embraced Tessa and didn't respond.
Scott asked Abby if Victor had agreed to her terms. Abby nodded and said she'd be returning to Newman Enterprises on her own terms, for the most part. Scott noted that he and Abby had been a good team. Faith noticed that Scott and Abby were standing beneath a sprig of mistletoe. Scott grabbed Sharon and said she was the only woman he'd kiss under the mistletoe. Abby appeared to be disappointed.
Nikki arrived with Connor. Victor told Nikki that she hadn't been invited and should leave. Nikki said she was aware that the party had been set up as a public relations event and noted that Victor would need a lot of help. Devon approached and encouraged Nikki to stay. Victor agreed to let Nikki enjoy the party. Scott and Sharon prepared to leave, and Nikki agreed to drive Faith home later.
Victor spent time with Connor while Nikki and Victoria talked. Victoria complained that though Victor had given her full autonomy, he'd overridden her when he'd mistakenly thought Victoria had fired Abby. As the lighting ceremony was about to commence, Victoria asked about Reed. Reed suddenly entered the room, carrying a star-shaped tree topper. Victor, noting that adding the special topper was a family tradition, allowed Connor to set the star atop the tree. Victor turned on the lights, and the guests applauded.
Victor approached Tessa and asked what else she'd stolen from his home. Tessa insisted she'd taken nothing else. Victor said, "What secrets are you keeping?" Tessa replied, "None." Victor said he didn't believe her. Tessa said she'd wait for Noah in the car, but Victor stopped her. Victor said, "I don't want you to do any further damage to this family. I'm giving you $100,000. I want you to take it, find your sister, and then vanish." Victor warned Tessa not to contact any members of his family. Tessa insisted that she didn't care about Noah's money. Tessa informed Victor that she didn't plan to leave Noah.
At the hospital, Lily and Charlie met up with Cane. Lily explained that it was too soon for her to give blood again. Charlie agreed to be tested in hopes that his blood might be a match to his little brother's. After Charlie walked away, Lily told Cane that Mattie wasn't ready to accept Sam yet. Cane understood and didn't want to press the issue.
Charlie returned to the waiting room, explained that his blood didn't match Sam's, and said he'd phone Mattie in hopes that she might be a match. Mattie arrived before Charlie summoned her and said, "Just show me where the lab is." Mattie was able to provide blood. Cane learned that Sam had made it through surgery. Cane thanked Mattie, and Lily said they all hoped Sam would pull through. Cane, joyful about the good news, hugged Lily.
At Sharon's house, Sharon presented Scott with a personalized Christmas stocking. Sharon asked Scott to move in. Scott asked about Faith's reaction to Sharon's decision. Sharon said Faith seemed to be fine with it. Scott happily accepted. Sharon asked Scott what questions he'd wanted to ask her earlier in the evening. Scott said that Sharon's commitment to their relationship had addressed all the questions he'd planned to discuss.
Victoria offers Ravi a job
At the Abbott mansion, Dina explained to Jack that she'd told him to spell "Jacky" with a "y" on his Christmas ornament because there hadn't been enough room for an "ie." She asked if they'd had that conversation before, and he called it a story worth repeating. Nikki stopped by, and Dina haughtily declared that she'd thought Jack had ended his relationship with Nikki. Dina admonished Nikki for showing no dignity by crawling back on her hands and knees.
Nikki announced that she was there to apologize for the way she'd treated Dina since Dina had returned to town. Nikki added that she wouldn't have behaved the way she had after the knife incident if she'd known, but her voice trailed off. Dina firmly stated that they could mention Alzheimer's in her presence, since she wouldn't melt. Dina contended that her only choice was to fight it the best she could, and Jack pointed out that Nikki knew about facing a major illness.
Nikki explained that her MS was in remission, but she understood how terrible it was to live with a disease that could take over her life at any time. Dina declared that Alzheimer's trumped MS, and she ordered Nikki to stop trying to steal her spotlight. Nikki recognized that Dina was living with a difficult disease and invited her to be as rude as she liked. Nikki reiterated that she had no hard feelings about the stabbing, but Dina barked that she had no idea what Nikki blabbering about.
After Dina stepped out, Jack told Nikki that Dina's behavior was part of sundown syndrome, where symptoms got worse after dark. He wasn't sure what the worst part of the disease was -- the sudden mood changes, the verbal abuse, or the random disorientation. Nikki urged him to take comfort in knowing that Dina still knew who he was, but he sadly questioned how long it would be before his own mother looked at his face and saw nothing but a stranger.
Jack asked about what had been going on in Nikki's life, and she mentioned that Victor had hosted his grand lighting of the tree the night before. Jack was surprised that she'd attended, and he suspected that she was reverting to form and slowly drifting back to Victor. Nikki understood why Jack had needed to walk away from both her and Jabot, since Dina relied on him. Jack admitted that he missed his life, and he knew that Jabot would always be there for him, but he couldn't expect the same from Nikki. She kissed his cheek and left.
At Crimson Lights, Phyllis faked a sneeze and wailed to Lauren over the phone that she wasn't sure that she would be over her illness in time for work. She coughed and dramatically promised to make up for it if she survived. After Phyllis hung up, Billy praised her award-winning performance. Phyllis crowed that she was ready to take on New York, and she contemplated whether it would top the magic of Bourbon Street.
At Jabot, Ashley was pleased with the increased traffic for Jabot Go, and Ravi reported that the beta testing for a new feature had been a huge success. He received a text message, informing him that he'd just won a free drink at the new bar at Top of the Tower. He invited Ashley to join him and make a dinner out of it, but she protested that she had too much work. He offered stick around, but she told him to go and have a good time.
Later, Ashley was happily surprised when Billy stopped by, and he remarked that it hadn't taken her long to get settled in. He broached the subject of what had happened at her award dinner, since everything he'd believed while growing up had changed. He recognized that Jack and Traci were still Ashley's half-siblings, but he and Ashley weren't blood related, so some people would say that they weren't brother and sister. Ashley vehemently stated that most people could "go to hell," since Billy was her brother, and nothing would ever change that or her love for him. Billy echoed the sentiment, and they hugged.
Billy requested the use of the company jet to take Phyllis to New York, but Ashley refused. He pleaded that he just wanted to get away to do some Christmas shopping, and he swore that he'd get Ashley a fantastic gift. She was adamant that the jet was for business use only, and she wondered if he and Phyllis were in a rut. Billy swore that he and Phyllis couldn't be in a better place, and he revealed that he'd moved back in. Ashley inquired whether he was going to propose, but Billy joked that he wouldn't ruin things with matrimony.
Ashley understood why a no-strings relationship was attractive, and Billy questioned whether she wouldn't love to go to New York with a special person if she were him. Ashley asserted that she knew how to have fun, and Billy guessed that she and Ravi were friends with benefits. She considered whether it was fair of her not to offer a commitment, since things were awkward because she was Ravi's boss. Billy encouraged her not to worry about it if a handsome genius whispering binary codes in her ear was floating her boat.
Billy complained about having to fly coach to New York, but Ashley lectured that he needed something more meaningful in life besides little trips. Billy reasoned that he'd put in a lot of overtime hours at Brash & Sassy, and his new motto was that life was to be lived, so he intended to grab everything he could and "enjoy the hell" out of it. He thought Dina's situation showed them that they shouldn't let things pass them by, and he inquired about how Dina was doing. Ashley replied that every day was a mixed bag, but Dina was spending most of her time with Jack.
Ashley begrudgingly agreed to let Billy use the jet one last time until he was again working at Jabot, but he expected Jack to squash the idea quickly. Ashley coyly pointed out that Jack wasn't there. Ashley expected Billy to buy her an expensive present in New York, and she remarked that her tastes were classy -- the opposite of Phyllis'. Billy thanked her for the jet and for trying to hire him back against Jack's wishes. She urged Billy to return to help her give Jabot the necessary kick in the pants it needed.
Noah greeted Ravi at Top of the Tower, and Ravi mentioned the offer for a free drink at the new bar. Ravi was surprised when Noah led him downstairs to a members-only area. Noah excused himself to check out Tessa's live television appearance, but Ravi noted that it looked more like an office than a bar. Victoria handed Ravi a drink and apologized for the subterfuge, but she figured he would have turned down a straight offer to meet with her.
Ravi asked where the conversation was headed, and Victoria hoped that they both ended up in a beneficial and profitable place. She announced that she wanted him to leave Jabot and join Newman as the head of software development, since she'd noticed his stellar work on Jabot Go and the Fenmore's dressing room app. She added that she'd heard his contract with Jabot was up, and she wanted to make him an offer. Ravi surmised that it had less to do with his skill set and was more about disrupting his rival, but Victoria stressed that she was very interested in him.
Ravi reviewed Victoria's offer and conceded that the responsibilities were impressive and flattering. She pointed out that Newman was a much larger company than what he was accustomed to and that he'd be on the cutting edge of IT, and she thought the offer was beyond anything Jabot could give him. Ravi recognized that it was an amazing opportunity, but he declined because his loyalty was with Ashley and Jabot. Victoria handed him her business card and urged him to take time to think about it.
Ravi returned to the restaurant, where Phyllis invited him to join her. She offered to cover his bar tab in exchange for his silence, since she was playing hooky from work. She planned to fly to New York if Billy was able to convince Ashley to loan them the Jabot jet. Ravi warned that Ashley was used to making all the decisions, and Phyllis guessed that Ravi had been pushed to the back burner. Ravi replied that he definitely hadn't been rebuffed, and Phyllis goaded him until he admitted that he'd spent the night with Ashley. Phyllis gave him a high-five.
Phyllis asked if Ravi was drowning his sorrows or celebrating, because she'd thought being intimate with Ashley had been his fondest desire. Ravi confided that he felt a bit used, since Ashley needed a distraction from her family issues, but all she wanted to talk about was work. He added that when Ashley reached out, it was only physical, and he didn't know what she wanted from him. Phyllis pointed out that in every stage of Ravi and Ashley's relationship, he'd always been the employee to Ashley's boss lady. Phyllis advised him to lose the underling label and show Ashley that he was a brilliant, desirable man.
Phyllis thought she should leave before the wrong person saw her in public, and she wished Ravi luck with Ashley before heading out. Ravi called Ashley and suggested that she put work aside for one night to join him for dinner. She informed him that she was about to order delivery, and she opted to keep her work momentum going. She offered to meet him at the same room at the Athletic Club later, and he half-heartedly said it sounded great.
Tessa arrived at the police station and asked Paul if he had an update on her sister. Paul revealed that he'd summoned Tessa because he needed to determine whether she'd been Crystal's accomplice. Tessa asserted that she'd been nowhere near the motel on the night Zack had died, and she said she had a live television appearance to go to. Paul replied that it wasn't his concern, and he informed her that the police had gotten a tip that she'd stolen Nikki's gun and given it to Crystal. He warned her that it was a felony in itself, and Tessa guessed that Victor had tipped them off to get her locked up.
Paul questioned why Victor would want Tessa behind bars, and she indicated that Victor wanted her out of Noah's life for good because she wasn't Newman material. She observed that Paul didn't seem shocked, and he proposed that they work out a deal. Later, Paul informed Tessa that he'd spoken with the D.A., who had offered to grant her immunity from prosecution in exchange for furnishing evidence that linked Victor to the sex trafficking ring. Tessa swore that she didn't know of anything like that, and Paul asked if she was willing to work undercover to get it.
At GC Buzz, Hilary freaked out when her guest hadn't arrived. Mariah assured her that Tessa would be there any minute, but Hilary grumbled that Tessa wasn't a star yet, so punctuality still applied. Devon arrived alone, and he was surprised that Tessa wasn't there. Devon was unable to reach Tessa, and Hilary panicked that she was about to go live without a guest.
Mariah figured that they'd improvised before, but Hilary fretted that she'd promised her audience a singer. Devon tried to reassure Hilary that she'd be fine, and she smiled brightly and welcomed her "bees" to another live edition of her show. Hilary gushed about the anticipation of doing the show in real time, since flying without a safety net led to surprises. Devon joined them on the stage, and Mariah announced that their surprise guest had arrived. Hilary cooed that her audience was in for a very special show that she wouldn't soon forget.
Hilary lauded Devon's new music streaming service and mentioned that the number of subscribers had doubled since Hamilton-Winters had acquired the company from Mergeron. Hilary rattled off some listener statistics and encouraged her fans to take advantage of an offer to get one month of service free. Noah arrived at the studio as Hilary commended Devon for giving his users a variety of world music and cultivating his own talent, including Tessa. Devon was impressed by Hilary's knowledge of the streaming music industry, and she suggested that she chuck her show and work for him instead. He pointed out that they'd probably kill one another, and the show went to a commercial.
Noah inquired about why Tessa wasn't there, since she'd been stoked to do the show. Hilary griped that she had a whole show to stretch out, so she needed more material pronto. The show resumed, and Hilary purred that Devon held another badge of distinction other than music producer and CEO -- he was also her ex-husband. They marveled about the roller-coaster ride it had been, and Hilary pointed out that he'd also dated her co-host. Hilary thought it would be juicy to compare notes, but Devon and Mariah protested. Hilary received a news update and turned the topic to the real reason Tessa was unable to be there that night.
Hilary revealed that she'd received an exclusive tip that Tessa had been hauled into the police station, and she speculated about what crime Tessa might have committed. Noah rushed out, and Hilary gushed that the excitement of live television was only on The Hilary Hour. Hilary looked forward to having Tessa on the show to explain her legal troubles -- if Tessa wasn't still incarcerated. Devon argued that no one even knew if Tessa had been charged, and Mariah theorized that Tessa was helping the police. Hilary conceded that anything was possible, and she encouraged her viewers to stay tuned as the story developed.
The show ended, and Devon angrily confronted Hilary. Mariah blasted Hilary for painting Tessa as a criminal to the entire world, and Hilary flippantly recognized that she should have said "alleged." Mariah ranted that Devon had helped Hilary out, but Hilary had thanked him by trashing one of his artists. Hilary waited for Devon to let her have it, and he recalled that she'd shown deep emotional regret after she'd been blindsided and exposed, but she'd just done the same thing to someone else. He hissed that he'd thought she'd wanted to do something worthwhile with her life and her show, but she was back in the dirt where she loved to be.
Noah arrived at the police station and found Tessa in handcuffs. Paul reported that she was being booked, and Tessa informed Noah that his granddad owed her. Noah was shocked to learn that Paul was pressuring her to dig up dirt on Victor. Noah thanked her for not throwing Victor under the bus, and she replied that it hadn't seemed right. Noah cautioned that often when someone was trying to get close to a Newman, it was because they wanted money or a story to sell, and she was part of the inner circle because they lived together. Tessa insisted that she wasn't going anywhere, and they hugged.
Victoria filmed a statement as a leading female executive at Newman to make clear that the company was vehemently opposed to sex trafficking. She announced that they planned on donating 100 percent of the proceeds from Design Date to women's charities to take down sex rings and save girls from sexual slavery. Lily told the cameraman to take it straight to Devon to clear up any lingering doubts people had about Newman's involvement in prostitution. Lily received an alert on her phone, and she groaned that as a result of the ongoing sex trafficking investigation, Newman was facing a top-to-bottom audit.
Victoria fielded calls from the press, and she anticipated that it wouldn't end until someone went down hard. Lily had an idea and called Devon. Meanwhile, Victoria answered a call from Ravi, who informed her that he'd reconsidered, and he was in. She promised that he wouldn't regret it, and they planned to iron out the details the next day. Victoria reported that she had excellent news, but it had nothing to do with the audit. Lily said she was willing to help, but she had to ask if there were any Newman skeletons that people might find. Victoria stared at Victor's portrait.
Tessa is dogged by questions about the gun>
In Devon's office at the Hamilton-Winters Group, Devon directed employees to delete negative threads on social media pertaining to Tessa. Hilary entered, having overheard Devon's phone conversation. Hilary offered a solution. Devon replied, "I only want to hear your idea if it's going to fix the problem you created when you threw Tessa under the bus on live TV on your show." Hilary suggested that Tessa appear on The Hilary Hour and share her side of the story.
Devon wasn't eager to heed Hilary's suggestion, but Hilary explained that Tessa's arrest on the firearm charge would've made news even if she hadn't covered the story. Hilary added that she was offering Devon a suitable way to protect his star artist. Devon admitted he was considering dropping Tessa's contract, but Hilary said she hoped Devon hadn't yet made his final decision. Devon later phoned Hilary and said Tessa would conduct an interview.
At Chancellor Park, Tessa ran into Nikki. Tessa sarcastically thanked Nikki for telling Victor that Tessa had stolen the gun from the Newman ranch. Tessa explained that she'd been arrested after Victor had alerted the police. Nikki apologized and said that Victor had been rattled by recent events. Tessa noted that the police had offered to drop all charges related to the stolen weapon if she'd agree to secretly record Victor. Tessa added that she'd declined the offer and had told police that Victor hadn't been involved. Nikki seemed relieved. Tessa insisted that both Victor and Nikki owed her a favor. Tessa added that she hadn't mentioned anything to Noah about his grandmother telling Victor about the theft.
Nick, Connor, and Christian joined Nikki for hot drinks at Chancellor Park's outdoor café. Nick found a flyer on the table, alerting citizens about a meeting to discuss the future of Chancellor Park. Nick summoned his nanny to pick up the children so he and Nikki could attend. After the meeting ended, Nikki and Nick expressed anger over Genoa City's intentions to sell the park to a developer planning to build condominiums. Nikki cried that the park honored Katherine Chancellor and the wonderful things she'd done for the city. Nikki, saddened about the turn of events, cried, "This has to stop."
Nick went home and began writing a letter to the mayor of Genoa City. Chelsea entered the room and asked Nick what he'd been doing. Nick told Chelsea about Genoa City's plans to sell Chancellor Park to a developer. Chelsea read Nick's letter to the mayor and asked Nick what else he planned to do. Nick replied, "We're going to unite [and] stop whoever this developer is."
Nikki stopped by the Chancellor mansion and told Esther about the plans to bulldoze Chancellor Park. Esther was shocked and expressed her intentions to protest. Kevin entered the room. Esther said she'd neglected to tell Nikki that Kevin and Bella were in town. Esther stepped out.
Nikki questioned Kevin about helping Victor break into her email account and her cell phone. Nikki showed Kevin an email she'd received in September, warning of a detected intrusion. Nikki added that the same month, someone had also hacked Nick's bank accounts and emptied them. Nikki noted that after the intrusion warning, Victor had seemed to know private information from emails she'd sent and other messages she'd stored on her computer. Kevin shook his head, indicating he knew nothing about the hacking of Nikki's email and phone.
Nikki suggested that Kevin had owed Victor a favor because Victor had allowed Kevin to visit Chloe one last time before her untimely death. Kevin admitted he'd helped Victor. Kevin said he'd needed the money to move with Bella and begin a new life. Nikki threatened to contact Paul if it happened again. Kevin appeared nervous. Nikki, citing the way in which Victor was known to operate, asked Kevin what information Victor had on him to use as leverage.
In Paul's office at the police station, Christine expressed her frustration when she learned that Paul hadn't gleaned much information from Tessa Porter. Paul said Tessa hadn't been cooperative when he'd questioned her about the connection between Zack Stinnett and Victor. Christine said she'd hoped the gun found at the Newman ranch might be the key to unlock the true story, especially after the audit of Newman Enterprises' files and laptops had led them nowhere. Paul told Christine he'd be open to any of her ideas. Alone later, Paul phoned someone and sought help.
As Abby was passing through Chancellor Park, Mariah stopped her. Mariah informed Abby that Scott planned to move in with Sharon. Mariah seemed apprehensive and asked Abby for an objective opinion about Scott. Abby claimed that Scott had strong feelings for Sharon. Mariah replied, "Oh, you guys talked about Sharon in the storage unit?" Abby said, "We talked about a lot of things."
At Sharon's house, Scott moved in, carrying everything he owned in a small bag, noting that he'd never stayed in one place for long. Scott told Sharon he was finally home. The couple celebrated with a kiss before shedding their clothing. Mariah later entered through the front door and startled the naked lovers, covered only with a throw. Sharon said she'd thought Mariah would be away at the studio. Scott quickly ran upstairs, and Sharon apologized to Mariah.
Scott's phone, lying on the coffee table, sounded an alert indicating receipt of a text message. Sharon placed her hand on Scott's phone, but she changed her mind and vowed not to snoop. Mariah picked up Scott's phone and showed Sharon the message. It was from colleague Kerry Morris, offering Scott a permanent job based in New York. Mariah had left before Scott returned. Sharon asked Scott about the job interview. Scott noted that he'd already decided not to take the job, and he immediately sent a reply declining the offer.
After Mariah returned to the studio, Hilary ecstatically announced that she'd be interviewing Tessa live. Hilary asked Mariah to prep Tessa after she arrived. After Hilary walked away, Mariah said, "Damn it!" After Tessa arrived, Mariah warned that Hilary would ask about the arrest. Tessa leaned in close and whispered that she'd given the gun to Crystal, who'd then used it to kill Zack. Mariah asked if Tessa was hiding other secrets. Tessa said she wasn't, and she begged Mariah to help her avoid being asked about the gun.
Hilary arrived on set and greeted Tessa. Devon stood nearby as Mariah and Hilary opened the show and introduced Tessa to viewers. Hilary noted that Tessa had missed a previously scheduled interview after being arrested for gun charges. Tessa began her interview by mentioning her music projects and insisted that the story of her arrest was being blown out of proportion. Tessa added that her attorney had advised her not discuss the details of her arrest.
After Tessa performed one of her songs, she explained that she'd written it about her sister, Crystal Porter. Hilary told the audience that Crystal had allegedly shot Zack Stinnett, who'd been the leader of the sex ring that was currently under investigation. Tessa clarified that Zack had been a human trafficker. Tessa added that Zack had held Crystal prisoner and forced her into prostitution. Hilary urged Tessa to continue. Tessa explained that Crystal had saved the lives of two people Zack had kidnapped and intended to murder.
After Abby received a text notification from The Hilary Hour about Tessa's interview, she seemed apprehensive. Abby phoned Scott and told him about the interview, which she feared might focus on the sex trafficking case. Scott told Abby he'd meet her at the office. Sharon entered the room and asked Scott where he was going. Scott said he had to check in at Newman and would return soon.
In Victor's office at Newman Enterprises, Abby and Scott watched Tessa's live interview. Abby said she hoped Scott and Sharon hadn't been in the middle of anything. Scott replied, "Glad you called." Abby and Scott continued watching the interview and were shocked when Tessa admitted she'd been arrested for stealing the gun she'd given to Crystal. Tessa said Crystal had used the stolen gun to shoot Zack. Hilary mentioned Tessa's boyfriend, Noah, and explained that the Newman family was being investigated about their connection to Zack.
Tessa told Hilary she'd sworn to the police that only she and Crystal had connections to Zack, not the Newmans or their company. Hilary ended the interview by announcing that the proceeds from sales of Tessa's music would benefit organizations that helped abused women. After the interview ended, Abby told Scott that they'd be dead if Tessa hadn't given Crystal the gun. Scott noted that Power Communications seemed to be keeping a tight lid on the story because Tessa had omitted a lot of information. Scott added that Tessa's body language didn't seem to match that of someone confessing to her crimes, especially when Tessa had mentioned the gun.
Abby, expressing frustration, doubted Scott's perceptions of Tessa's demeanor during the interview. Scott angered Abby by suggesting that she expected him to revise the story about human trafficking to benefit Newman Enterprises. Abby adamantly protested, explaining that both she and Scott should remain focused on staying employed. Abby asked Scott if he was naïve. Without hesitation, Scott noted that he hadn't been the one who'd fallen in love with a homicidal pimp.
Abby angrily confronted Scott, standing inches from his face, and insisted he take back what he'd said. Scott's lips quivered as he calmly apologized and vowed not to write a follow-up piece on Zack and Crystal. Abby and Scott stood close together and almost shared a kiss, but Scott backed away. Abby watched longingly as Scott walked away.
Back at the studio, Tessa berated Mariah for telling Hilary details about the gun and the arrest. Devon interrupted and admitted he'd been the one who'd told Hilary. Tessa apologized to Mariah. Mariah said she couldn't believe Tessa had mistrusted her after everything they'd been through together. Mariah grabbed her coat and rushed out the door.
Hilary served Champagne to Devon after Tessa's interview and noted that Devon's surprise appearance had netted interest. Hilary admitted that women often asked her what it was like to have a relationship with Devon. Hilary added that Devon's life would make an excellent reality show because many were interested in the life of a young mogul. Devon replied, "About the two of us?" Hilary said viewers would be interested to see how they managed their friendship post-divorce. Devon didn't embrace Hilary's idea and said it would be too hurtful.
Mariah returned home in a sad mood. Sharon asked if Mariah had had a bad day. Mariah complained about working with a narcissist who worked her interviewees like puppets by pulling their strings to extract information. Sharon updated Mariah about the text-message job offer Scott had received. Sharon expressed relief that Scott hadn't intended to take the job. Mariah noted that Sharon was the happiest she'd been in a long time. Sharon agreed and said, "I'm in love!" Sharon assured Mariah that she'd fall in love soon, too.
Jack and Ashley clash over Jabot and Dina
At home, Billy handed Phyllis a gift, but she noted that it wasn't her birthday and that it was too early for Christmas. She found a framed photo of a horse inside, and he informed her that he'd bought the horse. Phyllis dryly inquired whether it would live in their spare bedroom. He explained that it was a racehorse named Philly, which was a combination of their names. Phyllis was surprised that it was a present for her, and Billy indicated that technically, they both owned Philly. Phyllis considered the purchase to be rash and totally insane, and that was why she loved Billy. They kissed passionately and began to have sex on the kitchen counter.
Later, Phyllis and Billy cuddled under a blanket on the couch, and she admired Philly's photo. Billy clarified that he'd only bought one end of the horse, and Phyllis burst out laughing and asked which end. He explained that the other end belonged to a friend with big bucks, and she envisioned them all sitting in the winner's circle. She was suddenly distracted with the thought of work, since she'd already taken a day off that week by pretending to be sick. Billy suggested that she tell Lauren that she had two prize stallions at home who needed attention, and Phyllis joked that it was more like one and a half.
At Jabot, Lauren voiced surprise that Phyllis wasn't in yet, and Gloria figured that Phyllis was shacking up with an Abbott who had no workday to worry about. Gloria huffed that she would never take her job for granted with things falling apart without Jack there, and Lauren stepped away. Ashley exited her office and requested that Gloria get Jack on the phone. Gloria begrudgingly dialed his number.
Hilary stopped by to see Jack at the Abbott mansion to make him a deal he couldn't refuse. She enthusiastically pitched an idea for Jabot to sponsor The Hilary Hour, but he paused to answer a call from Gloria, who inquired whether he was available for a word with Ashley. Jack said he was in a meeting and abruptly hung up, and Gloria reported to Ashley that Jack was too busy. Ashley stormed back into her office.
Jack received another call, and he told the person on the other end that he'd check into something. He revealed that he had a trespasser on the property, and he worriedly called out for Dina and Traci. He informed them that their security company had notified him about an intruder, and Dina pointed at Hilary and barked that she wanted "that awful woman" out of her house. Jack insisted that Hilary was his guest, but Dina called her a "loudmouthed, social-climbing bitch" who'd tried to link Abby to a sex ring.
Traci led Dina to the kitchen, and Jack apologized to Hilary for his mother's behavior. He explained that the disease amplified Dina's hostility, and Hilary sympathized with what Jack was going through. Hilary regretted disturbing him when he was facing so much, but Jack pointed out that they wouldn't get to shake on their deal if she left. He agreed to sponsor her show.
Hilary and Jack negotiated terms of their deal, and he wanted credits to run at the top of every show, indicating that Jabot was presenting The Hilary Hour. She objected, but he wanted her to use Jabot's cosmetics exclusively and to leave ample room for product placement. She argued that there would be too much time devoted to promoting products rather than breaking news, and he invited her to look for another sponsor. She reluctantly agreed to Jack's terms, and he named one more condition -- she had to clean up her show, since it had to reflect family values if the Abbott name was attached.
Meanwhile, Gloria reported that there hadn't been any word from Jack, and she offered to help. Ashley grumbled that Jack had shot down the Cartwright deal, and no one could undo the damage, since he'd sabotaged years of hard work. Gloria opined that Jack knew what was best for Jabot, and Ashley was offended by the implication that she didn't. Gloria answered a call from Jack, who told her to pass along that he'd decided that Jabot would sponsor The Hilary Hour. Gloria grinned broadly as she hung up.
Later, Hilary arrived at Jabot, and Gloria ushered her into Ashley's office and wished her luck. Hilary suggested that she and Ashley get the paperwork out of the way, since she and Jack hadn't discussed how much the branding would cost Jabot. Ashley informed her that there had been a misunderstanding about the reason for their meeting. Ashley announced that Jabot wouldn't be sponsoring The Hilary Hour -- "not now, not ever." Hilary asserted that she and Jack had already reached an agreement, so Ashley couldn't stop it. Ashley countered that she could as the acting CEO.
Billy stopped by the Abbott mansion to say goodbye to Traci before she left for New York. Jack answered a call from Hilary, who ranted that Ashley had killed their deal because Jack was no longer in charge. Jack griped that Ashley had let the position go to her head, and he promised to take care of everything. After he hung up, he told Billy and Traci that he had some things to straighten things out with Ashley. Traci pointed out that it had been Jack's idea to take a leave of absence, but it didn't seem like he'd done it. Billy encouraged Jack to let Ashley do her job, and Jack snapped that he'd love to if she was better at it.
Phyllis ran into Lauren in the hallway and rambled about how she'd been too busy to pop her head in. Gloria passed by and clucked that Phyllis wasn't fooling anyone, and Lauren scolded Phyllis for waltzing in at noon after blowing off work the day before. Phyllis admitted that she'd lied about being sick, since it had been difficult for her and Billy to pull themselves away from one another. Lauren reflected back fondly on the days she and Michael had played hooky, but she needed to know that she could rely on her right hand, since there was a power struggle between Jack and Ashley. Lauren fretted that it would be terrible for her company if things were unstable at the top, and she didn't know who she'd pick if she were forced to choose between Jack and Ashley.
Lily raced into the hospital and burst in on Cane. She breathlessly stated that she'd gotten his message, and she asked what was wrong. Cane turned around with Sam in his arms, and he replied, "Not a thing in the world." Lily stared at them in amazement.
Later, Cane worried about how long the nurse had been away with Sam, and he ached to hold his child again. Lily remarked that she'd thought it had been a miracle when she'd first seen Sam in Cane's arms, and Cane credited her and Mattie for donating their blood. Lily chalked it up to Sam having his father's strength, and she said she was genuinely happy for both of them. Cane reported that Sam's heart was beating stronger on its own, and Lily urged him not to give up. She hoped it was one of many milestones Cane had to look forward to, since she expected him and Sam to have long, happy life together.
Lily asked if Cane had any idea when Sam could go home, and Cane replied that it was up in the air, but the doctors had said the baby should be home by Christmas. Lily envisioned Esther doting on Sam, and Cane remembered when they'd taken the twins home. Lily recalled being excited about the kids but terrified that the immigration people would take Cane away. Cane noted that his status had been settled, and their kids had been home for their first Christmas. He hoped Sam's would be just as joyful.
Lily thanked Victoria over the phone for letting her take the day off. Cane recounted that Victoria had been more supportive than he'd expected, and his face lit up when the nurse returned with Sam. He took the boy into his arms, and he asked if Lily wanted to hold his son. Lily gushed that Sam was adorable, and Cane handed Sam to her. She smiled awkwardly at Cane but quickly returned Sam to him and hurried out as Hilary looked on.
Hilary fawned over how good Sam looked, and she mentioned that she'd seen Lily rush out. Cane recognized that Lily was dealing with a lot, and he offered to let Hilary hold the baby. She balked because she hadn't held many babies before, and she thought it was more pressure than hosting a TV show. Cane teased that babies were her Achilles heel, and Hilary agreed to hold Sam. Cane guided her how to do it, and she looked down at the baby and called him the cutest thing ever.
Hilary said babies were miracles, and Cane wondered if she wanted one. She replied that she was glad she'd stopped by to see him, but she hadn't expected to meet his son. He figured that he could call her if he ever needed a babysitter, and she sympathized that Lily was having a hard time. Hilary urged Cane to give it time, but he was afraid that Lily just didn't know how to tell him that the divorce was still on.
Scott joined Abby on the Newman elevator, and she asked if he was sure that he didn't want to wait to take the next one. He thought they should find time alone to discuss what had happened, and she stopped the elevator and declared that they were alone. Moments later, Abby and Scott entered Victor's office, and Scott chided her for stopping the elevator in a busy building. She noted that they'd almost kissed the last time they'd been alone, and it had been practically as bad as if they had actually done it. She wondered what was wrong with them, but he replied that they'd have to figure it out later, and he walked away.
Later, Scott returned, looking for Victoria, and Abby informed him that Victoria was meeting with Michael about the audit. Abby asked if she should back away or if they were alone enough. Scott confided that what had happened in the storage locker was killing him because he wanted it to happen again, and Abby questioned whether that would be such a bad thing. He revealed that he'd moved in with Sharon, and Abby wondered if that had been a mistake. Abby pointed out that Sharon was a little older than him, but Scott insisted that his feelings for Sharon were real. Abby remarked that they hadn't been real enough to stop him from "doing the deed" with her.
Abby asked how Scott honestly felt about her and not what had happened. Scott conceded that there was chemistry between them, but it was just a matter of opposites attracting and nothing more. He added that she was an incredibly desirable woman, but they weren't a match because she wasn't his type at all. Scott continued that he couldn't help but be drawn to her physically, but he wanted things to work out with Sharon. He was adamant that Sharon could never know about them, but Abby received a call and said she had to take it. Scott stepped out, and Abby was surprised when Ashley summoned her to Jabot but instructed her not to tell anyone.
Abby entered Ashley's office, where Ashley called a meeting of Jabot's board of directors to order. Ashley welcomed Lauren to her first official board meeting since the merger, but Abby blurted out that someone was missing. Ashley contended that it was a quorum without Jack and Kyle, and she accused Jack of undermining her ability to run the company. She cited several examples, including the Cartwright deal that he'd shot down without consulting her and his attempt to align Jabot with a tawdry television show.
Ashley believed that Jack needed to take a real step back because he'd been distracted by his personal life ever since his marriage had gone down publicly a year earlier. Billy protested, but Ashley insisted on addressing Jack's focus on his battle with Brash & Sassy because of his animosity toward Billy. She referred to Jack's erratic decisions and underhanded tactics that had affected both Billy and Lauren, and she thought the company needed one CEO with one vision who would lead the company in a positive manner without any personal vendettas.
Ashley requested that the board give her complete authority to run the company as she saw fit. Jack stalked in and announced that he'd just heard about the meeting from his assistant, who was apparently more loyal than his own family. Ashley spat that Jack had single-handedly created the crisis, and Traci moved to take a break. Ashley offered to paint Jack a picture of the damage he'd done since he'd told her to take over his duties, and he called her a seat-filler. They argued, and Jack asked the rest of the board to excuse them to talk alone.
Jack speculated that Ashley had called the meeting because she was jealous, and she accused him of exploiting the company to punish his enemies, including his own brother. Ashley barked that their father would have been appalled, and Jack retorted, "He's my father, not yours." After a moment of silence, Ashley choked out that she hadn't expected him to go there, but she should have. Jack ranted that he'd kept her secret for years and endorsed her as an Abbott in every way, and she'd thanked him by trying to turn their family against him.
Ashley hissed that blood or not, Jack was far less like John than she was. She called Jack the "true seat-filler," since he was a sad shadow of the great man who'd raised them both, and the saddest thing was that Jack knew it deep inside. Jack swore that he was trying to do the right thing, but Ashley contended that he wouldn't know what that was if it slapped him across the face. She admonished him for taking Jabot public without thinking it through and letting Victor take over, leading to John's heart attack. She added that Jack had made too many mistakes to ever make it up to their father, and she imagined that was why he was desperate to gain their mother's approval.
Jack scoffed at the idea of Ashley taking the high road when she was using Dina's illness to advance her own agenda. Jack coldly stated that he had more important things to do, and he ordered Ashley to get out of his office. He reiterated that Jabot would be sponsoring The Hilary Hour, and that was the last word on the subject. She stormed out, and he angrily threw papers off the desk.
Outside Jack's office, Ashley relayed that things had gotten ugly, and she needed to know she had both Abby and Billy's support. Billy questioned whether it was the best time to be fighting, and Abby urged everyone to pull together for Dina's sake. Ashley demanded to know if they were on her side.
Over drinks at the Athletic Club, Lily groaned to Abby that she wished she could just be happy for Cane, and she felt guilty because none of it was the baby's fault. Abby bemoaned that she was stuck in the middle of an Abbott civil war and that she'd never understand men. Lily expected Abby to take a break from dating after Zack, and Abby said it was complicated. Lily thought she was an expert on that subject, since she still missed Cane in spite of everything.
At home, Phyllis couldn't believe that Ashley had sandbagged Jack after all he'd done to make sure Dina was okay. Billy wasn't surprised after the way Jack had been treating Ashley, and Phyllis protested that Billy was taking Ashley's side after it had taken months to make peace with Jack. Phyllis refused to get dragged into an argument, since she and Billy had a horrible habit of taking opposite sides. She declared that the one side she was on was his, and he assured her that he was on hers. They kissed.
Traci talked to Jack, who wished he could take it all back, but the words were already out there. Traci acknowledged that they were all on edge over the situation with Dina, but it didn't mean Ashley and Jack couldn't compromise. Traci thought they were both clinging to the company because they had lost their dad and were losing their mother, and Jack snapped that he didn't want to be psychoanalyzed. He quickly apologized and said he had to get Dina home. He exited the office and asked if Abby had taken Dina home, and Ashley informed him that Dina hadn't been there. Jack indicated that he'd left Dina with Gloria, and he wondered where they were.
Traci made calls to see if anyone had spotted Dina in the building. Ashley lectured that Jack should have stayed home and let her deal with business, and Jack admonished her for trying to run him out of the company. Traci scolded that their bickering wasn't helping to find Dina. Gloria suddenly called out for help, and she stepped off the elevator with Dina, who was clutching some test tubes.
Dina proclaimed that she'd been protecting the company's secrets from the likes of Gloria, and Ashley told Dina that she was sorry that Jack had left Dina alone. Jack bellowed that he had business out of town, so Ashley could take care of Dina the next day. "Have fun!" he exclaimed as he sauntered out.
Nick learns Newman is behind the condo project
Abby arrived outside the Abbott mansion and flashed back to almost kissing Scott. Ashley opened the door and noticed an odd look on Abby's face, and she figured that it was about all the decorations Jack had put up to amuse Dina. Abby asked how Ashley was feeling after her meeting with Jack, and Ashley was sure Abby could relate after working with Victoria at Newman. Ashley assumed that it was nice for Abby to have an ally in Scott, but Abby insisted that he wasn't her ally. Abby pledged to stay away from him as much as possible, since the last thing she wanted was Scott Grainger in her face.
Ashley was surprised by Abby's disdain for Scott, especially since he'd given Abby credit in his interview. Abby griped that he'd used her name to score press for Hashtag, but Ashley wondered if it had more to do with the fact that Victoria had let Abby walk away while keeping Scott on. Abby declared that she'd hated Scott even before that, and Ashley theorized that he reminded Abby of being trapped in the storage locker. Abby confirmed that it was exactly the problem, and she vowed to try not to think about Scott or the ordeal.
Ashley anticipated that things wouldn't get easier with Jack, and she needed to know that she had Abby's support. Abby assured Ashley that she didn't have to ask, and she wondered where Jack was. Ashley recounted that Jack had made a point of taking an out-of-town meeting to leave her there to care for Dina, and Abby imagined that it would be nothing like their spa day. Ashley wasn't sure what Jack expected to happen, but she sensed that Dina would soon need full-time professional care. Abby stressed that she supported Ashley leading Jabot, but she sided with Jack about Dina.
Abby advised that there was still time before the disease took full effect, and she was opposed to taking Dina away from everyone she was familiar with. Ashley insisted that they have a conversation about what was best for both Dina and the people around her, but she acknowledged that Dina was comfortable there. Ashley admitted that she hadn't been able to get past the damage that had been done in her relationship with Dina, and Abby suggested that Jack hadn't left to punish Ashley but to give her a day to spend with her mother while they still had time. Dina appeared and guessed that they were talking about her again.
After Abby left, Ashley informed Dina that Jack was out of town, so it would be just the two of them that day. Ashley proposed that they go to a spa or to the movies, and Dina testily referred to it as Ashley babysitting her. Ashley asked what Dina wanted to do, and Dina replied that she wanted to be treated like an adult. Ashley was distracted when her phone rang, and Dina huffed that she saw where Ashley's priorities were. Ashley set down her phone and pledged to have fun even if it killed them. Dina chuckled.
At the cottage, Scott looked at a framed photo of him and Sharon, but he envisioned that it morphed into a picture of him and Abby kissing. Sharon gushed that she loved that photo, and she thought it belonged on display because he'd moved in. He reflected back on the many holidays he'd spent overseas, but he thought being home felt warm and alive, and he intended to dive right in. Scott asked if she preferred eggnog or mulled wine, and he offered to learn to chop firewood. Mariah entered and banned reindeer sweaters, and Scott grabbed some gifts that he'd placed under the Christmas tree. Sharon told him to put the presents back, and Mariah marveled at how lucky Scott was because Sharon adored him even after he'd committed an unforgivable sin.
At the penthouse, Chelsea told someone over the phone that she'd send a sketch over right away. She groaned that custom design paid well but was a pain, and she observed that Nick wasn't listening because he was absorbed by something on her laptop. He explained that his computer had been destroyed in the fire, and she noted that she hadn't seen him that focused in a long time. Nick replied that he hadn't had anything worth fighting for in a while.
Nick was incensed by the idea of tearing up Chancellor Park to put in condos, and he'd tracked down the real estate company that had put in a bid on the property. He revealed that Alco's proposed plans were online, but the public wasn't aware of what was going on, so he wanted to get the word out to get the developers to back off. Chelsea warned that it would be him against massive entities, but Nick asserted that the park was dedicated to Katherine and was the heart and soul of the city, so it was something he needed to do. He showed Chelsea some flyers he'd printed to try to get people involved, and she called him her hero and assured him that he could do it. He left to put them up around town.
Cane arrived at Crimson Lights and sent a text message to Charlie and Mattie to invite them to join him for hot chocolate. Meanwhile, Nick hung up his flyers and informed Sharon that some developers wanted to turn the park into condos. Sharon recalled that Joe Clark had wanted to tear down the warehouse district a few years earlier, but he hadn't won, and she swore that the developers wouldn't win that time, either. Nick asserted that the park was Katherine's living memory, and Sharon encouraged him to write that down in case he had to give a speech.
Scott arrived and spotted Nick's flyers, and Sharon explained that Nick was protesting contractors putting up condos in the park. Sharon suggested that Scott write a story for Hashtag by digging into Alco, which clearly didn't care about the environment and quality of life. Scott cautioned that he'd worked on stories where one guy was up against big business and local government, and things didn't usually work out. Nick figured that Scott wasn't interested because the story couldn't compare to exposing a sex trafficking ring, and the men argued. Sharon tried to intervene, and Nick stalked off. Sharon looked disapprovingly at Scott.
Scott told Sharon that he was thinking about getting Faith some engineering kits for tweens so that they could build them together, and Sharon curtly replied that it would be nice. Scott wondered if Nick had said something to upset Sharon, but Sharon complained that Scott had completely dismissed her idea about doing a story about the park. She assumed that it was too boring and small compared to dangerous, exciting things like a war zone or human trafficking, so it wasn't worth Scott's time.
Scott insisted that it wasn't true, but Sharon believed that Nick showing an investment in the community hadn't registered with Scott because Scott was all about writing the story and not fighting the fight. Scott referred to what he'd gone through to help Crystal and other women, and he said he had no problem with Nick trying to save the park. Scott added that he'd actually saved a few human beings, and if Sharon wanted him to be more like her ex, it wasn't going to happen. He stormed off.
Charlie joined Cane on the patio, and Cane swore that he always had time for hot chocolate and for Charlie. Cane didn't want Charlie to think that he didn't want to listen because of Sam and work, and Charlie told him about school. Cane signaled to Charlie that he had a whipped cream moustache, and Charlie fondly recalled Cane giving him and Mattie whipped cream moustaches as kids. Cane noted that they were all grown up, so things weren't like that anymore. Charlie assured Cane that Mattie was completely into Reed and school, so her absence had nothing to do with Cane. Cane accepted that his daughter hadn't forgiven him.
Charlie inquired about Sam, and Cane reported that the tot was a fighter. Charlie asked to see pictures, and Cane obliged. Cane mentioned that the doctors expected Sam to be home by Christmas, and Charlie realized that it would be Sam's first Christmas at home but also the first one where Cane and the twins wouldn't be together. Cane thought they had to respect the fact that Lily had moved on, but Charlie proclaimed that Cane would have him as company on the big day. Cane said it meant a lot, but Charlie also had his mom and Mattie to think of. Charlie asserted that he had to respect their decisions, so they had to respect his.
Mariah stopped by the coffeehouse and observed that Sharon looked miserable. Sharon lamented that Scott wasn't who she'd thought he was, since they didn't have the same priorities, whereas Nick had wonderful qualities. Mariah pointed out that Scott did, too, and he hadn't broken Sharon's heart 6,000 times. Sharon thought that she and Nick had managed to stay close because they shared the same perspective on family and the community, and she wondered what she'd been thinking when she'd invited Scott to move in.
Mariah reminded Sharon that she'd wanted Scott to be part of the family, but Sharon groaned that she should have known better than to think it would work, since they were very different people. Mariah argued that it was what Sharon liked about Scott, since he'd never seen her as someone who needed saving. Sharon gave Scott credit for never judging her, but she thought that real life couldn't hold his attention after he'd covered such important stories. Mariah countered that Sharon had been happy and hopeful with Scott, and she urged Sharon to be sure that she wasn't making problems up, since what she and Scott had was good.
Scott ran into Abby at Newman and asked if Nick was a paragon of virtue, since Sharon had made him sound like a saint compared to Scott. Abby became worried that Scott had told Sharon about what had happened in the locker, but Scott was adamant that he hadn't said anything and wasn't going to. He asked if Abby had heard of a company called Alco, and she revealed that it was a dormant Newman entity that her dad had created for real estate deals. She snapped that she had work to do, and she suggested that he spend the day convincing Sharon that he wasn't a total jerk.
Scott returned to the coffeehouse, and Mariah suddenly said she was late for work and rushed out. Scott acknowledged that he'd been a jerk with Nick earlier, but he'd gotten jealous because Sharon had kids and a lifetime of history with the guy. Sharon assured Scott that she and Nick had had their chance and hadn't been able to make it work, and Scott admitted that he didn't want to think of her with anyone else. He added that he didn't want her to think that he couldn't focus on things that hit close to home, and he pointed out that he'd gotten involved in the sex trafficking story because Sharon had been worried about Crystal.
Scott swore that what mattered to Sharon mattered to him, and he offered some news as a peace offering. Scott divulged that Victor owned the shell company for the property developer, but he asked her to leave his name out of it when she told Nick. Sharon called Nick and informed him that she'd heard from a reliable customer that his father owned Alco. After she hung up, Sharon was stunned that Scott had been willing to help Nick, and Scott clarified that he'd done it for her. They kissed, and he asked if there was anything else he could do to earn her gratitude.
At the cottage, a shirtless Scott descended the stairs and breathlessly stated that Sharon was insatiable. Sharon appeared behind him, clad in his shirt, and Mariah arrived home. Mariah groaned that it was what dying felt like, and Scott went back upstairs to put a shirt on. Mariah guessed that the couple had made up, and Sharon regretted that she'd let fear take over. Mariah asked if Sharon just had a happy afterglow or if it was a solid, long-term happy, and Sharon promised that it was the latter. Sharon swore that Scott was sweet and honest and that he'd never hurt her.
Nick entered Victor's office and asked Victoria where their father was, and she replied that Victor was out of town. Nick insisted on talking to Victor, since he'd heard that a Newman shell company had plans to pave over the park, so he'd gone straight to the source. He considered it to be a typical shady move out of the Newman playbook, just like they'd tried to bulldoze the warehouse district. Victoria defended that it was standard operating procedure to operate under a shell company, and Nick accused Victoria of standing behind Victor to make a buck. He asked if she'd returned to Newman to show everyone that she was just as bad as Victor was.
Nick implored Victoria to consider how lucky she was, since she had a huge house with a big back yard, but a lot of people thought of the park as their yard. He reminded her that the park was dedicated to the woman she had named her daughter after, and she questioned why he was wasting time with her if he thought she was a terrible person. Nick asked if she'd known about the development from the beginning, and Victoria informed him that it had been underway before she'd returned to the company, but she expected it to create jobs and help the local economy. Nick groused that he heard their dad's words and her voice, and it reminded him that he'd made the right decision when he'd walked away. He received a call from the nanny and learned that Christian had fallen at the toddler gym, and he rushed out.
Chelsea raced to the hospital and asked Nick where Christian was. Nick reported that it had just been the boy's ankle and not his head, and he was sorry that he'd scared her. Chelsea admitted that she'd been terrified because she loved Christian, and the doctor informed them that it was just a sprain. Nick told Chelsea that they could take their son home. They hugged, but a troubled look crossed her face.
Later, Victoria stopped by the penthouse, and Nick informed her that Christian was fine. Victoria recognized that Nick was upset about the park, but she lectured that he was making it too personal. Nick asserted that he'd been against the development before he'd known Newman had been behind it, and he questioned whether the town needed more noise and traffic for Newman to turn a profit. Victoria believed that Katherine would have approved of employing people and pouring money into the economy, and she added that the development would be named after Katherine. Nick maintained that he would fight Newman all the way.
After Victoria left, Chelsea reported that Christian was down for the count, with Connor napping beside him. Nick called it brotherly solidarity, and Chelsea looked away. Nick commended her for being brave at the hospital, and she bemoaned that she hated when things happened to the kids. He recognized that she would be the only mother Christian would ever remember. Chelsea swore that she'd never take Sage's place, and Nick replied that he'd never try to replace Adam in Connor's eyes. Nick noted that the boys were cousins who were growing up as brothers, and he vowed to fight his dad or anyone else who tried to trash the town for money, because their kids deserved better.
Ashley and Dina arrived at the park café after going ice-skating. Ashley was surprised that Dina had wanted to take the risk of going skating, and Dina said she'd known that Ashley would never let her fall. Dina added that she'd wanted to recreate a little bit of history, since she'd taken Ashley skating for the first time years earlier. Ashley was certain that she would remember that, and Dina recounted that she'd gifted Ashley with skates and private lessons, but Ashley had wanted to learn on her own, so Dina had taken her. Ashley imagined that she'd fallen 1,000 times, and Dina proudly stated that Ashley had stood up 1,001 of them. Ashley was amazed that Dina remembered that when she didn't.
Ashley recalled skating with Jack, Traci, and John, but not with Dina. Dina said it had only happened once, and she mused that when special days had happened, she hadn't realized how special they'd been. Dina regretted that she'd never been there for her children, but Ashley brightly pointed out that Dina had been there when Ashley had learned to skate. Dina declared that she'd been proud of Ashley then and that she still was, and Ashley swore that she'd remember the day they'd just shared. Dina suggested that they go pole dancing next, and they clinked their coffee cups together and laughed.
Ashley and Dina returned to the mansion, and Ashley proclaimed that hot toddies were next on the agenda. Dina crowed that it sounded perfect, and Ashley exclaimed that it was never too late to make good memories. "What memories?" Dina suddenly asked, and Ashley recalled holding Dina's arm when they'd gone skating. Dina spat that she loathed skating and that she'd never waste her time on something like that.
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Truant by Claude McKay, 1932
The magic trick:
Garnering both sympathy and judgment from the reader for the protagonist by limiting the narration only to his point of view
“Truant” is the story of a man who is considering a very selfish decision. So it makes sense that it is told almost exclusively from his point of view. Sure, his wife and his daughter are mentioned. They are important parts of his life and his decision. But they are mentioned strictly from his point of view. We are getting his side of the story, his feelings about everything. It’s almost as if he isn’t even considering the effects of his decisions on them. Which maybe is the point. And that’s quite a trick on McKay’s part.
“Ah yes!” He had forgotten about Betsy, their four-year-old child. Always he had forgotten about her. Never could he quite realize that he was the father of a family. A railroad waiter, although he was thirty-six, he always felt himself just a boy – a servant boy. His betters whom he served treated him always as a boy – often as a nice dog. And when he grew irritated and snapped, they turned on him as upon a bad dog. It was better for him, then, that, although he was a husband and a father, he should feel like an irresponsible boy.
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There’s a moment in the film Titanic in which we are treated, if that’s the right word (which it isn’t), to an aerial shot of an old couple spooning, if that’s the right word (which it isn’t). The couple are on a double bed. Seawater is rushing underneath them. The aerial shot is part of a montage during which the Titanic’s band are playing their final tune, Nearer My God To Thee. It’s one of the film’s more touching moments, chiefly because there’s no room for any of James Cameron’s dialogue, such as this:
‘Rose, you’re no picnic, all right? You’re a spoiled little brat, even. But, under that, you’re the most amazingly, astounding, wonderful girl, woman that I’ve ever known!’
(Under that! Under what?)
Ghastly dialogue aside, the film tried its hardest to be faithful to the true Titanic story. Throughout there are numerous references to real anecdotes, as told by the survivors. However, the spooning scene is not based on fact. In real life, the old couple involved actually chose a far more puzzling way to die.
Their names were Isidor and Ida Straus. Isidor was a co-owner of Macy’s department store in New York and one of the wealthiest men on-board the Titanic. The couple’s suite was the most luxurious on the ship. James Cameron used it as a model for the rooms of Kate Winslet’s character, Rose, recreating them to exact specifications. (The next time you watch the film, be sure to spend the entire nude portrait scene studying the decor.)
The couple’s wealth and age virtually assured them of a place in a lifeboat. However, Isidor did not feel he should take up the place of another passenger.
‘I will not go before the other men,’ he declared.
It was common knowledge that the ship held lifeboats for fewer than half of the passengers (this was originally considered a trifling matter on an unsinkable ship – which, of course, it would be). It seemed, then, that Isidor intended to die. As people desperately tried to get Ida into a boat, she also refused. She told her husband, and all within earshot,
‘We have been living together for many years.
Where you go, I go.’
And that was that.
It was impossible to argue with them. Their bond was unbreakable. Whenever they spent time apart they would write to one another every day. They celebrated their birthdays on the same day, even though there were months between their birth-dates. They were like loved-up sixth-formers, only with more hair in their ears. They caused on-looking romantics to hear golden harps being plucked by angels. Whilst less romantic souls searched for the nearest hole in which to vomit.
I’d like to think that the following conversation once took place during their courting process: ‘Ida, you’re no picnic, all right? You’re a spoiled little brat, even. But under that, you’re the most amazingly, astounding, wonderful girl, woman that I’ve ever known!’
‘Under that? Under what, Isidor, you saucebox!’
After making it clear that they intended to stay on-board the Titanic for as long as possible, Isidor and Ida did something breathtaking.
They did not, as depicted in the film, go back to their room and lay on the bed. They did not even try and find a part of the ship they found more comforting (like the millionaire Benjamin Guggenheim, who famously ‘dressed in his best’ and dashed to the nearest bar). Instead, they stayed outside and sat on deck-chairs.
Whether or not they stayed on the deck-chairs until the bitter end is unknown. But it is where they were last seen.
It has recently been suggested that the angle that the Titanic protruded out of the water reached no higher than 23 degrees before sliding under. If this is true, then it is not a scientific impossibility that the couple could have stayed in the chairs for all of the sinking. If the chilling 90-degree Hollywood version of the sinking is true, however, then one must imagine their stubbornness to leave the ship would have been tested sorely. Primarily by gravity. Either way, it is quite some manner in which to shuffle off this mortal coil.
As Isidor and Ida were among the elite passengers on-board, they acquired quasi-celebrity status by default. Although they never courted fame. In a world before radio, television and popular cinema, newspapers filled their columns with stories of millionaires. The life of the movie character Rose, were she real, might have been as well known to the public of 1912 as Kate Winslet is to us today.
The actions of the majority of First Class passengers during the sinking of the Titanic (who had a survival rate of 62% compared to a Third Class survival rate of 25%) possibly played some part in the shift away from a public interest in the elite.
As the weeks rolled by after the event, sickening accounts of bad taste surfaced. It was reported that Lady Cosmo Duff Gordon, upon seeing the ship finally go under, leant across to her secretary and said, ‘There is your beautiful nightdress gone.’ She had said it from the safety of a lifeboat built for 40. With 12 people inside.
J. Bruce Ismay, President of the White Star Line, who would have been expected to stay on the ship until the very end, infamously jumped into one of the lifeboats he was helping to load. (It is a scene managed brilliantly in Cameron’s film.) Ismay’s reasoning was that there was nobody else around to take up the spare place. This was true. However, his own deep sense of guilt and the (eventual) wrath of the press towards him, led to him leaving his role as White Star Line President and becoming a recluse. It is said that he turned his face away as the stern of his ship descended.
The floating body of Isidor Straus was recovered by the boat Mackay-Bennett. Among the things they found on him were a gold watch, a gold pencil-case, a platinum and pearl chain and a silver flask. He and Ida had collected valuables from their room before going on deck. Maybe they had believed that there would be some eventual way out of their terrifying situation. Their decision to casually sit in deck-chairs could also support this. Maybe, like others on board, they thought the Titanic might at least stay afloat until a rescue ship, which remained tantalisingly on the horizon for the duration of the disaster, arrived to pick up those not in lifeboats. (The captain of that ship was asleep throughout. The Titanic’s distress flares were considered by look-outs to be celebratory fireworks.)
Many stayed aboard the Titanic because it felt much safer than going into a tiny lifeboat. Titanic staff later told the inquest how difficult it had been to fill the lifeboats for this very reason. Passengers reasoned that they were better off being on a huge ship that had been called ‘Unsinkable’ than getting into a shaky little wooden thing called a ‘Collapsible.’
It was the Titanic’s rapid descent in her final 15 minutes that caught so many passengers off-guard. Its slow listing had not even been noticeable to some. It had created false security.
Once the water had broken into enough watertight compartments, it sent the ship’s microcosmic world into pandemonium. Furniture and plates that had been slowly creeping and sliding were now being sent from one side of the room to the other. Those who had dressed in their best were clinging to the bar.
It was too late to do anything. The last lifeboats had gone. The stern continued to rise dramatically. Even the captain was now shouting that it was
‘Every man for himself!’
1500 panic-driven passengers began forcing their way onto the crammed deck. Somewhere amongst the pushing and the screaming sat Isidor and Ida. Their devotion to one another may have given the impression that they were a couple of young lovers from Dawson’s Creek, the reality, God bless them, was that they were in their mid-60s. You would not have fancied their chances.
Ida Straus’ body was never recovered from the water. She is still out at sea. Isidor was found and subsequently buried in New York State. His wife’s defiant cry of ‘Where you go, I go’ met a merciless objector in the Atlantic Ocean. Their bodies are now eternally apart.
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Rodolphe Kreutzer, (born Nov. 16, 1766, Versailles, France—died Jan. 6, 1831, Geneva, Switz.), composer and violinist, one of the founders of the French school of violin playing, and one of the foremost improvisers and conductors of his day.
Kreutzer was a pupil of the influential composer and conductor Anton Stamitz and in 1795 became professor of the violin at the Paris Conservatory. In 1798 in Vienna he met Beethoven, who admired his playing above that of any other virtuoso. Without Kreutzer’s knowledge, Beethoven dedicated to him his Sonata in A Major for Piano and Violin, Opus 47 (published 1805)—now known as the Kreutzer Sonata—but Kreutzer apparently never played the work in public. He held solo violin positions at the Théâtre-Italien and the Paris Opéra and later was chamber musician to Napoleon and to Louis XVIII, although his career as a soloist was cut short by a carriage accident in 1810. He wrote about 40 operas—of which Lodoïska (1791) was particularly popular—several ballets, 19 violin concerti, and many chamber works. His Méthode du violon, written with the violinists Pierre Baillot and Pierre Rode, and his 40 Études ou caprices remain standard exercises for the violin.
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My background for many years was in banking. I took a career break when I had my children and it was during this period I became interested in natural medicine. I was keen to understand the working of the human body and took a course in anatomy and physiology at Harrow College, studying for an ITEC qualification.
I then studied for over 10 years the different principles and practices of natural medicines, more commonly known as Complementary Medicine. My training was initially at the Middlesex School of Complementary Medicine at Mount Vernon Hospital.
Coming from a South American background, I was always aware of the natural medicines used to treat illness, so it was interesting to see how the West have gradually started to combine the healing arts from around the world, most going back to early civilisation. I also studied with the Institute of Traditional Herbal Medicine & Aromatherapy, which has its roots in Chinese Medicine.
I was able to use my skills and qualifications at a leading Cancer Centre working with doctors and nurses on the wards to help patients undergoing treatment for cancer.
My experiences working in the banking sector taught me to think logically; I was sceptical as to the effectiveness of these therapeutic treatments. However, during and after treatments I could see the reactions and how it helped many. My training working on the wards taught me to blend therapies to meet the requirements of each patient, as too often they were too unwell to receive a full session.
I have now opened my own practice in Chalfont St Giles; within the peaceful surroundings my clients can let go, relax and allow treatments to start the healing process.
My aim as a consultant is to devise a plan of the most effective treatment suitable for each client in order to stimulate the body’s healing response. I will also refer clients on to other professionals if I think it would serve them better.
As a practitioner, the intention is to work with each client to alleviate stress and pain within the body.
Please Contact us to arrange an appointment.
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Duncan was educated by his mother until he was ten years old then, after this, by a private tutor. His liking for constructing mechanical devices was noticed at this early age. In October 1824 he entered Edinburgh Academy (where Maxwell and D'Arcy Thompson were to be educated). He showed great promise at school and, during the winter of 1827, Gregory was sent to an academy in Geneva where his mathematical talents were obvious to the teachers. On his return from Geneva, Gregory became an undergraduate at Edinburgh University where he began to study advanced mathematical topics and he also conducted experiments with polarised light. He was most influenced by William Wallace who held the chair of mathematics at Edinburgh University.
In October 1833, at the age of 20, Gregory entered Trinity College, Cambridge, receiving his B.A. in 1837, being ranked fifth wrangler, and his M.A. in 1841. However his interests were not only in mathematics for at Cambridge he continued to pursue his interest in chemistry which he had shown while an undergraduate at Edinburgh University. He was one of the founder members of the Cambridge Chemical Society but had broader interests than even mathematics and chemistry for he also studied physics, astronomy and botany. In October 1840 he became a Fellow of Trinity and also an assistant tutor at the College, devoting himself entirely to mathematics from this time on. At this time the Cambridge Mathematical Journal was beginning publication and Gregory became its first editor. Many of the papers in the early parts of the Journal are written by Gregory himself. Gregory declined a chair in Toronto in 1841 due to ill health. He returned to Edinburgh, where he was an unsuccessful applicant for a chair, but he died there shortly afterwards in his father's house, Canaan Lodge, at the age of 30.
His main contribution was his theory of algebra which he defined as the study of the combinations defined by the laws of operation to which they were subject. This is one of the first definitions of modern algebra. His work in this area is described in the paper On the real nature of symbolic algebra which Gregory published in the Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. In this work Gregory built on the foundations of Peacock but went far further towards modern algebra. Gregory, in his turn, had a major influence on Boole and it was through his influence that Boole set out on his innovative research.
Two other important works by Duncan Gregory are Examples of the Processes of the Differential and Integral Calculus and A Treatise on the Application of Analysis to Solid Geometry. The first became an important text at Cambridge which, by this time, had accepted Peacock, Herschel and Babbage's Analytical Society reforms, and continental methods of calculus were being taught in Cambridge. The second work was unfinished at his death but completed and published the following year.
He is described in as follows:-
On the whole, his work reveals a vast acquaintance with continental mathematics, and is often enlivened with historical remarks. The quality of his mathematical advances was indeed unusual for one who never held a senior position in the university. Of an amiable disposition and an active disinterested kindness, he unfailingly shared with others the extent and variety of his information, and his experience as an editor.
Article by: J J O'Connor and E F Robertson
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The Bellevue College Theater Arts’ most recent production, Camelot, opened on Mar. 6. Camelot’s story is told well and the actors serve as worthy champions of the cause; however, a few issues do hold the production back.
It is said that a meal is eaten with the eyes first. Any chef worth their salt knows the arrangement of on a dish has as much to do with a meal’s enjoyment as the actual flavor of the entree. Michael Brandt, the scenic designer, feeds the audience well. This rendition of Camelot does not take place in England in the days of yore, but, instead, the audience finds themselves taken to a believable future, long after the collapse of civilization. Metal and vine twist together next to crumbling concrete walls to draw each viewer into Camelot’s world of tribes and violence. Modular set-pieces were used well, with each configuration feeling like its own distinct location. The crew that put this set together deserves their own seat at the round table.
Camelot’s three main heroes Arthur, Guenevere and Lancelot are portrayed admirably by their individual actors. Sriram Kanduri, who played Arthur, sings and delivers his monologues with a proud nobility fit for a king. Kelsey Crane lends Guenevere her powerful vocal pipes and is easily the best voice during all of her songs. Lancelot, portrayed by Leon Sepanta, sings and acts well but is the weakest of the three in their role. Sepanta’s performance of “C’est Moi” evoked the image of a haughty noble, not a cocky knight, yet they hit their stride later in the first act and closed strong.
There seemed to be a charisma problem when the players came together. Arthur, Guenevere and Lancelot comprise the greatest love triangle of British mythology. Arthur and Lancelot are as close as brothers, and their individual feelings for Guenevere eventually tear the kingdom apart. The play reminds the viewers regularly of this powerful love through the words and actions of each character. The actors did not. Arthur and Lancelot were friendly in the same way two coworkers might chat at a watercooler. Guenevere appeared to have friendzoned both of them. However, true love is challenging to portray, and the efforts of each player were commendable.
King Pellinore and Mordred, played by Jennifer Loschen and Gareth Freese respectively, were fantastic and deserve mention. They commanded attention each time they entered the stage, and played their parts admirably. Abigail Parish, a young actress who played several parts, including Tom of Warwick, acquitted herself well on stage, and will surely blossom into an amazing actress as she grows.
The troupe as a whole performed outstandingly. Every member brought unique life to their part. When the cast came together for larger scenes, there was an obvious trust between players that allowed them to lean on each other. If someone made a small misstep during a dance, it was taken in stride by their partner, who made necessary adjustments. Unintentional pauses in speech were never awkward. Most importantly, the group seemed to be having fun together. Their internal chemistry was on full display while they sang and danced “The Lusty Month of May.” The laughter from each actor seemed genuine, and helped to bring spring to the stage. The only real complaint is the inability of the actors to deliver a snappy comeback. There were definite times when a line called for some spice, but the delivery fell flat.
Dance choreography was good. The actors’ stage movement was fluid and everyone seemed to find their place very well, even during the more hectic group dancing. The fight scenes were split almost down the middle. For every exciting bout of sword play there was an equally clumsy display of faux strength. Unfortunately, knights are supposed to be excellent fighters, comfortable with a sword in their fists. When a Knight of the Round Table fails to appear dangerous, the suspension of disbelief is ruined. BC’s production of Camelot entertained and, despite some flaws, was a great way to spend the night. The Theater Arts program put on a wonderful show, and it is always a treat to watch their performances.
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Benefits Of Laser Hair Removal
A lot of people today have learnt and are going for laser hair removal rather than having to shave on their own. Laser hair removal is a very successful long-term hair removal method. Studies conducted relating to this hair removal technique have shown that it is relatively safe and hence another reason for its wide adoption. In this article, we will be looking at some of the reasons why you should choose laser hair removal over all other hair removal methods.
One reason why you should go for laser hair removal is that this technique is safe and effective. Lasers are effective when it comes to getting rid of hair in unwanted areas for a long time since they focus on the hair follicles unlike other shaving techniques such as the use of razors. Lasers are in massive use in the medical industry and have been so for very many years and you can therefore rest assured that you will be using technology that is tested and declared safe. It is important that you ensure you choose a high-quality device of you intend to remove the hair by yourself. If you would rather have a professional help you, choose a salon that is held in high esteem by the people around you.
Secondly, you do not have to go to the salon each time you want this technique done. This is because there are various laser hair removal devices in the market, which have been approved for at home use.
Another reason why you should choose the laser hair removal technique is because it is cost effective. Waxing and shaving are short term solutions, which means that you have to spend regularly on them but this is not the case with laser hair removal because it is a long-term solution and you therefore end up saving a lot of money. A lot of people argue that getting this procedure done is expensive at first but it is important that you look at the bigger picture and recognize all that you stand to save in the long run because of this technique.
Another benefit of laser hair removal is that it saves you a lot of time. You only need a few minutes to get this procedure done and not have to worry about shaving for a very long time, which ultimately saves you a lot of time.
Another advantage of laser hair removal is that one does not have to deal with ingrown hairs unlike is the case with other techniques such as waxing. Laser hair removal is in fact used to treat ingrown hairs, thereby making it the best choice for you if you are prone to razor burns or ingrown hairs. With other techniques, you have to wait for your hair to grow for the procedures to be done but this is not the case with laser hair removal since it is also effective on shaved hairs.
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Narrative Lectionary Key Verse for Today
NL Daily Devotion for Friday, December 14, 2018
by Dr. Kimberly Leetch, Clergy Stuff
A war had been brewing between Mordecai (a Jew and uncle to Esther) and Haman (the king’s official, who was enraged by Mordecai’s unwillingness to bow before him). Haman had already tried to exterminate the Jews by genocide, but Esther had intervened and saved them all.
But Haman was not finished trying to discredit and destroy Mordecai. He plotted to have Mordecai hanged on the gallows for his insubordination. He didn’t know that Esther had already convinced the king that Mordecai should be honored for putting an end to an assassination plot by two of the king’s eunichs. When Haman came to ask for Mordecai’s death, the king asked him what should be done to honor the man most worthy of the king’s honor. Haman thought the king meant him, so he laid out a grand, glorious celebration. He didn’t realize the celebration would be for Mordecai.
Then Esther hosted a banquet for the king and Haman, at which she requested the man responsible for plotting her people’s genocide be terminated. The king agreed, and it was then revealed Haman was the man responsible. He was hanged on the very gallows he had built to hang Mordecai.
Treachery is a dangerous game. Deviousness requires patience, keeping track of your own lies, and keeping up many deceptions. If one piece of the puzzle falls, the entire treachery fails. A life of honesty, integrity, kindness, and justice is a much easier life to live in that regard. It requires little effort to tell the truth, and no effort to remember it. A virtuous life is not only good for humanity, but it is good for you, too.
Narrative Lectionary Daily Reading:
On that night the king could not sleep, and he gave orders to bring the book of records, the annals, and they were read to the king. It was found written how Mordecai had told about Bigthana and Teresh, two of the king’s eunuchs, who guarded the threshold, and who had conspired to assassinate King Ahasuerus. Then the king said, “What honor or distinction has been bestowed on Mordecai for this?” The king’s servants who attended him said, “Nothing has been done for him.”
The king said, “Who is in the court?” Now Haman had just entered the outer court of the king’s palace to speak to the king about having Mordecai hanged on the gallows that he had prepared for him. So the king’s servants told him, “Haman is there, standing in the court.” The king said, “Let him come in.” So Haman came in, and the king said to him, “What shall be done for the man whom the king wishes to honor?” Haman said to himself, “Whom would the king wish to honor more than me?” So Haman said to the king, “For the man whom the king wishes to honor, let royal robes be brought, which the king has worn, and a horse that the king has ridden, with a royal crown on its head. Let the robes and the horse be handed over to one of the king’s most noble officials; let him robe the man whom the king wishes to honor, and let him conduct the man on horseback through the open square of the city, proclaiming before him: ‘Thus shall it be done for the man whom the king wishes to honor.’” Then the king said to Haman, “Quickly, take the robes and the horse, as you have said, and do so to the Jew Mordecai who sits at the king’s gate. Leave out nothing that you have mentioned.” So Haman took the robes and the horse and robed Mordecai and led him riding through the open square of the city, proclaiming, “Thus shall it be done for the man whom the king wishes to honor.”
Then Mordecai returned to the king’s gate, but Haman hurried to his house, mourning and with his head covered. When Haman told his wife Zeresh and all his friends everything that had happened to him, his advisers and his wife Zeresh said to him, “If Mordecai, before whom your downfall has begun, is of the Jewish people, you will not prevail against him, but will surely fall before him.” While they were still talking with him, the king’s eunuchs arrived and hurried Haman off to the banquet that Esther had prepared.
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My Iron Lady is no more. She has been my mother, my friend, my granny and my ultimate supporter and motivator. These incidents do make me go angry on GOD and then make me feel that GOD does not exist, but that feeling lasts only for a second, because my paati always tells me to trust GOD and whatever he does has a meaning and a purpose, so if I have to believe that, GOD taking away my paati from my is also meant for a reason and purpose. I know life moves on and it never stagnates.
The heaviness and void such death's create in you is very difficult to overcome, though we all understand and accept the fact that no one is gonna stay on this planet forever, when you miss such an important person of your life, you just cannot come back to terms, and I am no exception to it, I am struggling hard to get over her demise. Wherever I see, whatever I do, I remember her, I can see her everywhere in this house, any item I touch or see reminds me of her, immediately my throat feels a bump and tears just roll out.
I know I did not feel the same heaviness when my mom died 21 years back, it's not that I was too young that I did not understand the gravity of the situation, I did understand that the loss of a mother is always an irreparable loss, but my mom is a person who did not bring me up as a child who is emotionally dependent on her. I have to do all my things on my own, right from packing lunch to school, to arranging books as per time table, ironing my school uniform, she made me grow independent and of course that is helping me a lot now as an adult, but my paati always pampered me and kept me by her side.
My paati is always special, this fucking JOB of mine made me a globe trotter from the last 1 decade, but which ever country I am, I never failed to call her, even for one single day of my life I have not slept without hearing her voice. She might not have done a master degree like me, but the kind of ethics and manners she has is something I have to take it forward, she never wanted to give trouble to anyone, till last March 2011, she was doing all her work on her own, right from washing her clothes to cooking for herself, she did everything on her own.
She never took anyone for granted, be it her son's or daughter's she always placed requests and never orders. At the time when her health did not co-operate with her, and she was a kind of bed-ridden, whenever she passes urine on the bed, she used to apologize, and tell us that she did not do it with an intent and she will clean the mess on her own, of course we will not allow her to do that, but what made me wonder is, how can someone be so nice even when they are physically not capable of doing their own things? She taught be all good things of life, if I am what I am today, I would credit all my good habits and qualities to my paati, coz, I learned them from her.
Her quality of forgiving even the enemy is something which I cannot learn, she has the heart to pardon the individuals who at some point tried to harm her and kill her peace, and she never complains and never preaches nasty things about someone to someone. She has 4 grandsons and 2 grand-daughters, but out of all the folks, I was the one who is as special as I was the one who stayed with her. Whatever she wants she will not ask her eldest son (my father), she asks me and the next hour or day, that thing will be there on her table, I with all my sincerity can say that, I never denied anything to her, I kept her like a queen, and of course she is.
Two months before her death she called me by her bed and then spoke to me for 2 hours, she told me that she is very much worried about her 3rd daughter who never got married (she also stays with me) and my father who has lost his wife, she took a promise from me saying, I should never ditch both of them, and I should take care of them till I die, she always worried about others and not much about her, she had a wish of me getting married, and by GOD's grace, before her death she could see my marriage and she told me that it was the most happiest day of her life.
I know I will always miss her and I will always remain to be her beloved grandson, but my duty is not over yet, I have to keep up my promise to her and I am sure she will be standing right next to me and always guide me in my life. No one can defeat death and the only way to keep a dead person alive is by taking the positives out of them and then leading a life as per their ethics and giving a meaning to the love and affection we had on them. I loved my paati and now it is my duty to lead a life which makes my environment happy and people giving credit to my paati for bringing me up.
Paati, I love you the most, I will miss you the most, but please be my guardian angel and guide me all through my life, there will be a time where I will join you and at that time, I am sure, you will be so proud of me. Keep showering your blessings on me and our family and on my dear friends as well. I know you must be having a nice time with your husband who left you when you were just 36 yrs old.
Pattammal P S
Born - 20-June-1923
Died - 29-June-2011
I love you darling; my sweet heart is no more with me.
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It's a pipe dream of many an aspiring author: publish your debut novel, claim a spot on the New York Times bestseller list, and rack up an astonishing array of awards, including a Newbery Honor. For Kate DiCamillo, author of Because of Winn-Dixie, it was a dream come true--and nobody could have been more surprised than she was. "After the Newbery committee called me, I spent the whole days walking into walls. Literally," she says. "I was stunned. And very, very happy."
She was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, but moved with her family to Florida when she was five years old. "People talked more slowly and said words I had never heard before, like 'ain't' and 'y'all' and 'ma'am," she says, recalling her first impressions. "The town was small, and everybody knew everybody else. It was all so different from what I had known before, and I fell swiftly and madly in love."
Indeed, it was homesickness for Florida's warmth that helped inspire Because of Winn-Dixie, which Kate DiCamillo describes as "a hymn of praise to dogs, friendship, and the South." The author was experiencing winter in Minnesota, where she had moved when she was in her twenties. "I was also missing the sound of Southern people talking," she says. "And I was missing having a dog. One night before I went to sleep, I heart this little girl's voice with a Southern accent say, 'I have a dog named Winn-Dixie.' I just started writing down what India Opal Buloni was telling me."
Her second novel, the National Book Award finalist The Tiger Rising, is "considerably darker" than Because of Winn-Dixie," she notes, "but there's light and redemption in it." Once again, the story began with the appearance of a single character. "Rob Horton showed up in a short story I wrote and than hung around the house driving me crazy," she says. "I finally asked him what he wanted, and he told me he knew where there was a tiger." Like Opal in Because of Winn-Dixie, Rob struggles with the loss of a parent and ultimately discovers the healing power of friendship. "I don't think adults always realize how much friends mean to kids," Kate DiCamillo says. "My friends have been the saving grace of my life."
She credits one friend's son for inspiring her extraordinary new book, The Tale of Despereaux: Being the Story of a Mouse, a Princess, Some Soup and a Spool of Thread. As she tells it, "A few years ago, my best friend's son asked me if I would write a story for him. 'Well,' I said, 'I don't normally write stories on command.' 'But this is a story that I know you would want to tell,' he said. 'It's about an unlikely hero. He has exceptionally large ears.' 'What happens to this hero?' I asked. 'I don't know,' he said. 'That's why I want you to write it down, so you can find out.' Well, Luke Bailey, three years later, here is the story of what happened to your exceptionally large-eared, unlikely hero."
When asked about her latest book, she says, "One Christmas, I received an elegantly dressed toy rabbit as a gift. I brought him home, placed him on a chair in my living room, and promptly forgot about him. A few days later, I dreamed that the rabbit was face-down on the ocean floor - lost, and waiting to be found. In telling The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, I was lost for a good long while, too. And then, finally, like Edward, I was found."
She lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, where she faithfully writes two pages a day, five days a week. "E. B. White said, 'All that I hope to say in books, all that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world,' " she says. "That's the way I feel too."
An Online Children’s Book Review Journal
Through The Looking Glass Children’s Book Reviews
Kids book reviews, including book reviews of chapter books, novels, picture books, and non-fiction from famous children’s literature authors. Your review site of books for children.
Welcome to Through the Looking Glass Book Reviews. We have moved! Please visit the new site at www.lookingglassreview.com to enjoy the new website.
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The Silver Pine Cones. A Short Yuletide story.
by Leandra Witchwood
There once lived a poor family with hardly enough money for food much less, wood for their fire. Each day the mother would go into the forest to search for pine cones while her children would go into town to sell them. The damaged and small pine cones too broken or insignificant to sell would burn in their hearth, while the larger more beautiful pine cones could be sold or traded for food.
It was the Winter Solstice and Mother was hoping to find some extra nice pine cones, so she and her husband could have a small Solstice celebration with their family. In the forest, the woman kicked and dug away the snow as she found pine cones to bring home. As she persisted in her task, her fingers were soon numb with cold. After several hours she had collected a large basket full of various pine cones. She began to feel very tired, very cold, and very hungry. It was a good long walk back to the house so she decided to sit and eat a few bits of the apple and bread she packed.
She found a nice fallen tree in the sun where could and eat her apple as she warmed her cold fingers and body. Suddenly, she heard a voice from beside her. “Hello, my lady.” A little startled she looked up to see a man near her. He was dressed in traveling clothes and seemed to be a little tired and weary from travel. Other than that he was younger and appeared to be in good condition. “Do you have any food to spare an ill-prepared traveler?” he continued. The woman felt the hunger in her stomach, but also knew that the man has a long walk ahead of him before he would reach the nearest town.
“Certainly, sir. You can’t go on a journey without proper rations” she said. She gave the man her bread, and then gave him directions to the road where he could find the next town. He smiled and thanked her for her kindness and generosity. Before they parted he suddenly took a very keen interest in her load of pine cones. He asked her why she had collected so many. She answered him honestly, even though she felt ashamed to tell a complete stranger her hardships. He also said something else before he left, which puzzled the old woman. He said, “Beware the forest, and its tricks, for it holds more than mere sticks!” He took her cold hands in his and finished with, “May your life be blessed with gifts from the forest.”
With that, he seemed vanished toward the road. She heard stories of Magickal folk in forests nearby but she had never encountered them. She said to herself, “Old Wive’s Tales!” as she picked up a pine cone in admiration. “Gifts from the forest, indeed! Although, I did get some nice ones today,” she said as she tucked a piece of cloth around the pine cones in her basket to keep them from tumbling out. She then lifted her load of pine cones onto her back and turned toward home.
The basket seemed a little heavier than usual, but she did not give it much thought. She decided the weight was due to her strength failing from hunger. She could only think of getting home to her family and warming her cold hands.
Her walk was long, and as she reached her door she could barely carry the basket. “Oh! My! I think I am getting weaker by the moment. This basket is far heavier than before.” She called to her husband for help. He came out of the shed where he was feeding the mule, wondering what the fuss was about, seeing his wife struggle, he quickly came to help carry the basket. As he lifted the load from her, he could not believe she had carried such a heavy basket home. The basket’s binding cracked and strained from the weight. “Goodness Dear, you certainly picked the heavy ones today”, he said with a sense of struggle in his voice.
They brought the basket into the house and set it down on the table. The woman sunk down into the closest chair, relieved to be home safe and sound. Their hearth fire was burning low and the husband could tell his wife was freezing. He decided he could place one pinecone on the fire to help his wife warm up from the cold.
As he lifted the cloth away from the pine cones he gasped in disbelief. “OH! OOOOoooooh!” he said. His eyes were wide in disbelief. He was so shocked he could not speak. Wondering what the matter was, the wife looked over to see a basket filled with glistening silver pine cones. Every pine cone she has picked was now solid silver, shining cheerfully in the meager firelight. Tears of joy streamed down both their faces as she told her husband of the strange man she met in the forest. In an instant, all of their worries and troubles seemed to vanish, just as the man did in the forest.
From then on, the woman and her husband would venture out into the forest on the eve of the Winter Solstice with offerings of food and drink for their Magickal friend. Although she never again saw him, they would leave an offering at the base of the tree where she met him. They kept their grateful and generous hearts and their lives were filled with love, bounty, and joy until the end of their days.
This is my version of a similar story I read MANY years ago and retell to my children during the holidays. I had to write my own version because I am unable to find the original story.
It reminds me that by being generous and kind to others we are rewarded beyond our wildest dreams. Gifts are wonderful to receive, but the best ones are those we give from the heart. Even in times of turmoil and deprivation we always have something to give. Our gifts add value to one another, even when it seems like we have little to give.
This story resembles the true meaning behind the holiday season in general, for all who celebrate.
I hope you enjoyed this tale and share it with your family this season!
Through persistence, I found the honest answer… I can have both! I realize that I could forge my own path using the skills and knowledge I gained, and the simplest of techniques.
I love food and everything that goes with it. I have spent more than 35 years in the kitchen, enjoying every minute. Okay… well, enjoying almost every minute of it.
In addition, I have disbursed nearly as many years studying Wicca, Witchcraft, and Paganism. Combining these two interests has created a Magickal path where I combine food and spirituality. To my delight they play brilliantly together.
My love of whole healthy foods, and unique recipes has also lead me to help run a local teen cooking program, where I teach kids valuable life skills in the kitchen. In addition, I teach a variety of cooking classes for adults and covens on subjects ranging from making the time spent in the kitchen more enjoyable, to cooking together as a group, and recipe-spell creation.
It only made sense that I would begin writing and sharing my experience. From this, The Magick Kitchen was born. My journey with you is about developing a spiritual experience with food, far beyond the dull habit of consumption. We have a marvelous opportunity here to take a most mundane task and make it Magickal!
The Magick Kitchen is about connecting to Divinity through food and the ritual of preparing and sharing food. It is about developing a sacred balance between nourishment, ritual, and spirit. Food has the power to heal, sooth, and bring us together as friends, families, and community.
I am so glad you joined me! Sharing knowledge, experience, and personal perspective with you is an honor. Thank you!
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What is NOVO created for?
If a person reveals his mission, he will be able to discove a source of powerful energy in himself for the realization of great deeds.
There are many people in the world who cannot develop their potential and truly realize themselves and people come across this problem at different stages of development. You can be a successful businessman or even a professional in one's own business, but one day a person asks the question "What is my purpose? What was I born for? Is what I do really my destiny and purpose? "And he feels lost, like a lonely ship in the ocean. This can even cause depression.
But what does it mean to realize your potential? What is it? It is a special feeling that you follow the path of your destination, realizing that what you are doing is your way.
The road arises under the feet of the walking man. It is very difficult to confuse with something. In any case, the desire to understand yourself and your mission does not appear from scratch, which means that there is already internal request for it.
The task of internal self-realization is not simple and we have a system. So that a person could realize his potential and hidden opportunities, he needs a team in which it is customary to develop and development stages that correspond to his mission.
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In the end it was all down to the slime. The slime extracted from the gall bladder of a very angry space cucumber. This special ingredient was used in the creation of a neural thread that allowed the user to explore the secret pathways of the universe.
Gregory had been metaphorically bashing his head against the walls of reason, trying to come up with a plan to rescue Aiasdotter, when all along what was required was the ability to slip under the surface.
Lady Sarah looked like she had gone several rounds with a Megafraken pit fighter, and that was before Stiletto’s technicians changed her face. It was she who had volunteered to use the slime to penetrate the dark planet of The Hrym.
Like a corrupted Japanese Daimyo listening to the screams of a boiling Dutch cabin boy, The Hrym was carried away by the music coming from Aiasdotter’s cell. He didn’t have to actually be present, because tuned into every nuance of the minutiae of his planet, he was aware of everything.
The Hrym was a connoisseur, and just as the conductor of the Berlin Symphony Orchestra could hear the minutest change in the tone of his lead violinist’s E string, so too, The Hrym felt the minutest of fluctuations in the terror and pain experienced by his erstwhile brilliant and efficient private secretary.
Connected to his neural network, The Hrym linked straight to the cell where Aiasdotter was being kept and tortured.
In the Hrym’s future world the dimensional reality of neural communication and entertainment had come a long way from the 3D cinema and TV back at the beginning of twenty-first Century Earth. It was as if The Hrym was in the cell, and had brought his presence with him.
Sat there in the chair was Aiasdotter, and yet The Hrym knew it was not her. Like the skin of a deep ocean octopus, his supermarket suit and shiny shoes changed from pale blue to a raging crimson colour, as the sensitivity of the neural net picked up the subtle shift that his physical presence would never reveal.
The colour change was a step too far. Haydrift Eaglebeard who had been stood silently in the corner, momentarily lost control. Using an ancient Tibetan meditation technique, he had been holding himself in a stasis of No Thing whilst the switch between Aiasdotter and Lady Sarah had taken place.
Seven and a half seconds were required, and to Sarah strapped to the plastic chair, it seemed like an infinite moment of torment.
Suddenly The Hrym was standing before her, face almost catatonic in its banality, yet his whole presence burning red like Lucifer on a bad day.
And then, that kindly face appeared from the corner and with a few waves of his hand, Sarah’s pain was gone.
Copyright Jhedron Luckspar © 2014 2018
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Since Mandy left school she has worked in retail, both in the food and clothing sectors. When she went back to work after having children she worked at the Asda store in Bodmin, progressing to supervisor in the ‘George’ department, then enrolling onto the management programme. After a while Mandy wanted a new challenge so she became a shop manager to two shops of another Cornish charity. After two years she was promoted to Deputy Retail Groups Manager for its 27 shops. She joined Cornwall Air Ambulance in 2016.
Mark joined Cornwall Air Ambulance as a van driver in May 2019 covering the Camborne area. He previously worked as a driver for B & Q. In his spare time he enjoys surfing, karate and spending time with his Norwegian family.
Mick joined the ambulance service in Cornwall (SWAST) in June 2002 after serving 11 years with the London Ambulance Service.
He has been working on the Cornwall Air Ambulance since May 2006 as a full time member of the team of six.
Although she is not Cornish, Paula spent her childhood in the county in the St Austell and Roseland area, and later came back to Cornwall in 1998 to live and work.
Paula joined the charity in May 2008 having previously worked in businesses as diverse as building surveying, accountancy, sustainable agriculture and renewable energy technologies. Her career background is founded in people, project and finance management, delivered through charitable organisations, NGO’s and European funded projects. Her work in leadership has included overseeing extensive change and organisation development at the Cornwall Air Ambulance Trust, where she works closely with the Board of Trustees on strategic leadership and development, and managing the senior leadership team.
Paula maintains strong connections with the fundraising community and, together with other members of the fundraising team, she regularly delivers talks about the work of Cornwall Air Ambulance to its supporters.
She is a member of the Institute of Directors, Institute of Fundraising, and the Chartered Institute of Personnel and Development.
For the past three years Paula has been a Director of the national trade body for the air ambulance sector, and is currently Chair of the Board of Directors for the Association of Air Ambulances.
In spare time she likes to travel, preferably on a cruise ship, and create her own knitted garments. Walking and cycling are two of her favourite activities as well as visiting National Trust properties. Paula is also a Rotarian, and is the Youth lead for Rotary District 1175 Devon and Cornwall. She has one daughter who lives and works in London, and a Siamese cat at home in Bodmin.
Pete joined Cornwall Air Ambulance in July as a trainee Critical Care Paramedic. He comes from Northampton, and moved to Cornwall with his parents 26 years ago. He has previously worked as a Retained Firefighter for 15 years, and a Paramedic for the Ambulance Service based in Newquay. He then became a Practice Placement Educator for the Trust. With an interest in anatomy and physiology, Pete is looking forward to developing his skills in trauma patients as he becomes a Critical Care Paramedic.
In his spare time he has set himself the challenge of walking all the coastal paths in Cornwall with his girlfriend and their dog. He also enjoys running and cycling.
Robert joined the charity in 2015. He is a Chartered Accountant who worked for Francis Clark in Truro for more than thirty years and continues to consult for the firm. Robert is a Governor and Chair of the Finance Committee of Truro School among other charitable commitments.
Sarah has lived in Cornwall for 10 years, exploring the Cornish coastline and countryside with her fiancé and two dogs. She is making the most of her passion for photography and love of wildlife with the beautiful views and breath-taking setting that the county has to offer.
Sarah has spent the last 8 years working in hospitality and event management, planning dream weddings, professional conferences and Christmas parties. After seeing the role to join the Cornwall Air Ambulance team to plan events and sign up new recruits to the exciting challenges, she knew this was the perfect opportunity to be a part of a worthy cause whilst doing what she loves and supporting those who want to raise vital funds for the charity.
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Marion Kennedy Amos
In her role as Vice President of Sales and Account Management, Marion leads Ellevation's revenue generating professional teams. The Sales and Account Management Team is focused on strategic new business outreach as well as creating and sustaining long-term district partnerships nationwide.
Before Ellevation, Marion was part of a team at Google that focused on increasing student access to educational opportunities through technology. She has also worked in higher education and began her career as a Special Education teacher in Chelsea, MA, through Teach For America. She has a BA from Duke University and an M.Ed in Curriculum and Instruction from Boston University.
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We’re introduced to Darwin Ward being split into two wards, and Keller Ward (for general surgery) has been opened. The consultant on the new ward is Mike Barratt, previously consultant in A+E. Kath Shaughnessy is his ward sister, and Tash Bandara is his new registrar. When Tash sees Kirstie, she greets her enthusiastically but Kirstie obviously doesn’t want to know Tash. It is evident there is some history between them.
Nick apologises to Victoria for their argument the other day, and Victoria grudgingly accepts. Ray asks Kirstie how Damien’s been doing in rehab, and Kirstie says that he hasn’t turned up so Ray says he’ll go and have a word with him. Ray says it’s not a good idea to get involved with people you meet at work, especially patients.
Kirstie asks Danny out but she turns him down and mentions to Kath how nice Danny’s bum is, and is embarrassed when Julie and Jasmine tell her that Kath is Danny’s mum! Despite Ray saying Victoria’s out of his league, Danny asks her out and they agree to spend Christmas together. However, Kath makes him go to Ireland to see his grandparents and when Danny breaks the news to Victoria she is upset and thinks she was just a bet. However, they agree to meet up when they get back.
Jasmine mentions to Julie that she’s after a new job. Kath overhears and tells her that Mike’s after a Nurse Practitioner for Keller and that she’ll have a word with Mike. Jasmine’s looking forward to her interview, but Tash tells Kath that she doesn’t approve of the Nurse Practitioner post.
Nick hasn’t seen a solicitor about the divorce because he still doesn’t want to go through it. He tells Karen he regrets leaving her, but he felt guilty that he couldn’t get her pregnant. He confesses to having a low sperm count. Karen says it’s a relief because she’d thought it was her fault. Nick says there are ways of overcoming the problem and Karen wants to know if he’s saying he wants to have kids. He says that he does eventually but at the moment he doesn’t want a divorce. He says he finally realised that he belongs with her, and tells her that he loves her and doesn’t want to be apart from her again. Karen pulls away and Nick says he wants to spend Christmas with her and kisses her again, but she pulls away again – saying she has work to do.
Victoria is confused at why Meyer helped to save the life of a murderer but he talks to her and says that they have to fight for all human life, and that in a war, doctors have to help both sides. He says they have to learn to cope with losing patients, but says that sometimes the less they know about them the better. He goes to see Tony Smith, (the murderer Victoria was referring to) and tells him he and his brother will both make a complete recovery. Tony thanks him. Meyer replies, “I’m a surgeon. We can’t refuse to operate on anyone. But I so wish that we could have left you two to rot on trolleys in A&E.”
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There are many single fathers who don't really 'get' child support. They don't understand what is involved and how difficult child support could be. Due to their lack of understanding, many single fathers end up paying excessive amount of child support to their ex-wives.
It makes their life crippled due to the high payments. Besides that, a single father might also encounter a difficult ex-wife, which makes child support additionally difficult.
In Child Support For The Single Daddy, Nick Thomas shares his experience with regards to child support. In this book, he has seek the stories and advice from other single fathers. He has gone through the commonly asked questions by single fathers and compiled a short guide.
From this book, you would have a clearer understanding about child support and avoid paying excessive amounts of child support to the ex-wife.
This book also helps clarifies certain issues such as:-
- The Importance Of Child Support
- Understand The Various Types Of Child Support
- How To Prepare For A Child Support Hearing
- How To Apply For Child Support Modifications
- How Different Events Such As A Remarriage or Unemployment Changes Child Support
Whether you are a divorced father or a man who is going through his divorce proceeding, this book would give you light about what to expect from child support.
You would understand better the true purpose of child support and have a basic understanding of it. It would also save you money and you have peace of mind.
If you are interested to learn more about child support from an experienced single father, this book is for you...
Click look inside to find out more...
Disclaimer: Nick Thomas isn't a lawyer who is qualified to give advice about child support. However, he has the experience of being a single father counsellor. He has helped many single fathers gain confidence in their lives and start dating women again.
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I couldn't stop thinking about it the entire ride home, this had to be one of the worst dates I've ever been on, and I've been on quite a few bad ones recently. I'm not letting my sister set me up anymore that's for sure. I swear it wouldn't stop replaying in my head as we drove back to my house.
"I don't believe in higher education." He said it so nonchalantly as he ate from his plate like an uncivilized pig, there's a difference between being a messy eater and a rude eater, Will is the latter.
"Can I ask why exactly?" I asked without skipping a beat, I had an unfazed facade the entire date, it had become a slight defense mechanism lately.
"My older brother, he had big dreams. Went to school to get an education so he could then get a better job..." He stops eating for a moment to lock eyes with me, "Now he's drowning in debt and can barely feed himself." I knew I didn't know the circumstances for this man's brother, but I couldn't help thinking it was a sorry excuse to completely stop believing in educating yourself more. I was honestly more disappointed than anything. Up until now Will had been quite attractive, had even managed to make my panties dampen a bit with a few comments. He's a strong man with an even stronger personality and at first, I found it drew me in, now it just made me want to leave.
"Oh well... I'm sorry to hear that." I didn't know what else to say at the time, he had been informed I'm a professor, at least I thought he had been and he still said this. I mean I get if you have strong opinions, but at least wait to share them until I have more of a reason to stay than just some nice biceps. He didn't really respond to me just grumbled and kept eating.
The rest of dinner he had most spoken about himself and his family, well greedily eating. Once he was sated I convinced him to not get dessert and leave.
Now in the car, I couldn't believe I had arranged my whole week to make this date happen tonight. I was still slightly horny and my frustration didn't seem to extinguish any feelings.
"We're here." He announces as well pull up to the curb near my house, the street and porch lights around the only thing illuminating the area.
"Oh, great!" I say a little too enthused, "I guess I should be going then." I say quickly, with a faux smile, it falls quickly as I hear his car turn off. This idiot doesn't really think he's getting laid... He comes around to my side of the car, opening the door for me and offering his hand to help me out. I smile at him again and can feel it coming out as a slight grimace. I take his hand, drop the smile and step out of the car. He smiles widely at me, but then he's not looking at me, he's staring through me. I frown and furrow my brows at him, turning around and looking over the car door, in the direction he'd been looking. There's a person hunched over, a young man with blonde shaggy hair... "Noah?" I call out in question.
"What are you doing?! We don't know who that is or what's wrong with them!" Will kind of whisper—yells at me as I walk away from him, toward the figure on the pavement. I crouch down and can see that it is, in fact, Noah and he is barely conscious.
"Noah? What the hell are you doing out here?" He didn't answer me, just kind of mumbled and groaned, "Noah, are you okay?" He still doesn't answer me, "Will help me get him into my house."
"What are you talking about?" He had hesitantly come over to me after a few moments and now looked at me like I'm crazy.
"I said help me get him into my house, this is one of my students, and as you said we don't know what's wrong with them. We should take him inside and I should contact someone." He still looks at me like I'm nuts but then huffs.
"Fine." He crouches down and lifts the young man, leaning him on one of his sides, I sort of help him as he carries him up the path to my house. I unlock the door and he takes him into the living room, dropping him onto the couch.
"Great! Thank you, I'll see you later." I say quickly as I kneel beside Noah, placing the back of one of my hands on his forehead.
"What? See you later?" Will says almost in disbelief. I look up at him with my bros furrowed once again, this time in frustration. I stand and walk towards him.
"Yes see you later. I now have an incapacitated person on my couch that I need to take care of and make sure isn't dying. You can either stay and help me or leave, and since you don't seem so inclined to help, I suggest you leave. Especially if you ever want to see me again." I tacked that on at the end because I really just wanted him to leave my house.
"Al-alright." He turns and walks out of the living room into the hall, I follow him. He stops in the door and turns back to me.
"Leave Will or you'll be blocked on my phone by the morning." He nods once and turns walking out the door and down the path defeated, I shut the door behind him and sighed softly. Now to work...
I go back to Noah in the living room and check his pockets for a phone. No luck. I don't know any of his friends and I can't exactly ask one of his classmates to come to get him and take care of him. He would probably be safer with me anyways. He's kind of sweating and doesn't seem like he can really wake up. I can't tell exactly what's wrong since he had seemed fine the last time I saw him. I would just have to wait and see if he wakes up. Throwing a thin blanket over him, I go to my room to change into more comfortable clothes.
After taking a shower and changing into a pajama short set I go to my office to do some homework and go over some finished coursework from my classes. A few hours of work and I hear loud banging coming from the front of the house. Rushing out to the living room, I find Noah on the floor and half awake. I come over to him slowly and crouch beside him.
"Hey... Noah, you okay? Can you tell me what's wrong with you?" I ask softly, trying to be nice, not sure how he is going to respond to me.
"I-I don't remember... I was at a party with a friend. Now I'm here... where ever here is." He kind of chuckles but then just yelps when he slips as I help him up, we eventually get him back onto the couch where he sighs heavily and lets his head rest back.
"You're at my house." I say, matter a fact, "I was on my way home from a date when I found you unconscious on the sidewalk."
"Oh... Wow... Okay, I'm sorry." He apologizes, rubbing his face with his hands and then staring at me sleepily.
"It's alright really, the date was already a bust. If anything you helped get me out of interacting with the guy much longer." I laugh softly, feeling awkward talking to him like this. I had just rejected him a few days ago and now he's sitting in my living room... I usually didn't let students even know my address, let alone come in, but obviously, tonight is a bit different.
"Oh, well, good thing then I guess. Sorry still." He says looking a little guilty but still very tired.
"Why don't we get you something to eat?" I offer, not knowing what else to really do.
"I-I don't think I can eat anything right now. If I could get a ride home though that would be nice." He tries to stand and almost falls over again, I go to try and catch him but he just stumbles.
"I don't think that's going to happen. I don't know any of your friends and I thought about contacting them earlier but you don't have a phone, I tried to find one on you earlier. I'd also really prefer if fewer students knew where I lived. I think I should take you to the hospital actually, neither of us knows what's wrong with you. Even if we did have one of your friends come get you, I don't think they would know how to take care of you." I could tell I was rambling and making this a bit of a one-sided argument, but I honestly am just freaking out about the strangely sick kid on my couch.
"I can't afford to go to the hospital... I think I was just roofied anyways so it's really not that big a deal, we just have to wait for it to wear off." He says this all very uncaring and his head swings onto the back of the couch again.
"Not a big deal! You were unconscious in front of my house!" I snap at him, this kid really is stupid.
"Yeah and now I'm not, I'm in your loving care." He leans up and flashes a cheeky grin at me. I huff and stomp to the kitchen going to make him the snack I had originally offered. Opening the fridge and angrily trying to find something to eat, as I shut the door I see him walking into the room, "Listen, I'm just... I'm being honest when I say I can't afford a hospital visit over this, and you obviously don't want to deal with me leaving or someone else coming, so you have to take care of me. I really still feel on the verge of passing out and I got dizzy again just walking over here." I look at him and realize the predicament I've gotten myself into.
"A-alright... I'll take care of you... The bathroom is down the hall, second door on the right. Go take your shower well I make you something light to eat and drink." He smiles and sticks his hand out toward me a little too eagerly.
"Great! Then we agree to play nice." He says teasingly, trying to get me to shake hands with him. I shake my head and turn to look in the pantry.
"Go take the shower before I change my mind and send you to bed without it." His smile drops, as well as his hand, then he turns and walks out of the room, down the hall.
"Yes, mother..." I swear I heard him mutter as he leaves, I shiver at the comment, it made me feel strange... I go into the pantry, looking at crackers and boxed meals trying to make a decision my mind drifts. Why had that comment bothered me so much? Was it because he had asked me out? Or because of our age gap?... Or maybe because the way he had walked into the kitchen was kind of... sexy, all groggy and stretching. His shirt had ridden up some... I can feel the heat on my face and it draws me back to reality, grabbing a box of crackers and embarrassingly rushing out of the pantry, I go back to the fridge, slightly trying to hide. When I hear loud banging again, this was louder than Noah had been falling off the couch. I rush down the hall to the bathroom where the noise had come from.
"Noooah?..." I pause and wait for his response, "Are you okay?" I hear a groan, well at least he's alive.
I could hear her calling outside the door, but I was almost too embarrassed to respond.
"Yeah..." I slowly sit up on the floor of the shower, "I'm okay... Um, could you come in and help me up though?" I pause and swear I can hear a soft gasp from behind the door, "I slipped and hit my head, I don't think I can get up on my own without falling again."
"Umm....." She pauses for what seems like an eternity.
"Please, Professor Harte, I wouldn't ask if I didn't think I would just end up hurting myself worse." I was almost begging at this point, could this woman not understand this is a bit of an emergency? She was trying to get me to go to the hospital earlier, what happened to that attitude?
"Okay... Yeah, okay." I hear the bathroom door open, looking over I see her walk in with a hand over her eyes.
"Are-Are you really that nervous to see me naked?" I ask, furrowing my brows at her, had she never seen a man naked before? In class, she seemed so calm and collected, very serious at times. Now she looks like a teenage girl too scared to see a cock.
"No! I... I'm just trying to make sure you don't get the wrong idea!" She protests, her hands coming down in annoyed fists at her side as she glares at me with an angry look, she looked beautiful even when she was upset. Fiery green eyes, long wavy auburn hair, sweet little heart-shaped face with a button nose and rosy pout, beautiful body even in her PJs, I was so happy I got to see her like this, but so irritated she would make such a strange assumption.
"Get the wrong idea?" My eyebrows wouldn't un-furrow as my confusion with this woman continued.
"Yeah! You asked me out, now I don't want you to get some naughty idea!" She argues, crossing her arms in defense, her breasts getting pushed up slightly. I could see the slightest amount of beautiful, pale cleavage.
"Yes, because I would get some dirty idea, well I'm hurt and naked on the floor." I shake my head at her and can see the embarrassed blush on her cheeks, "Will you just help me up, and with rinsing this soap out of my hair? I just want to get out now, without shampoo in my eyes." I say annoyed with laying on the wet tiles.
"F-Fine!" She stomps over to me, opening the shower door, she looks at me inside and realizes she's not sure how to help me up without getting wet, "Why did tonight have to turn into such an ordeal?" She mutters as she steps towards me, she detaches the shower head and crouches down beside me, "Tilt your head back if you don't want soap in your face so badly." She says stern and emotionless. I give her an annoyed look but do as she says, tilting my head back. She takes the shower head and begins rinsing off my hair.
"Sorry, I'm such a pain," I muttered back at her. I can't see it but I can hear her gasp quietly.
"Are you kidding me right now? Don't try and turn this around and make me feel bad!" She raises her voice at me and sprays my entire head, drowning me for a moment and then standing before stomping out of the shower, "You have been being a pain, a pain in my ass!"
"Are you kidding me!" I wipe off my face, trying to get the water out of my eyes and stand with difficulty, still a bit dizzy, "You just tried to say I'm just using this as a ploy to get in your pants somehow! How is that even fair? You knew I was unbalanced and dizzy before I came in here! I put shampoo in my hair, it made the shower floor slick and I fell. Of course, the first thing I think is, oh use this to get in Professor's bed!" I shout back at her and can see her shrinking back from her original aggressive stance. I manage to get to my feet leaning against the wall.
"I-Listen I'm sorry I just..." I cut her off quickly.
"Yeah, you better be sorry, I haven't done shit tonight but get drugged," I say thoroughly done with the evening.
"I-I'm sorry." She turns and rushes out of the room quickly. Shit... I wait a moment and turn the shower off. Getting out, I dry off and wrap in my towel, not knowing what else to do. We both had been a little stupid, but I knew I would need to face her and talk to her. Walking down the hall and into the living room, I don't find her. Not in the kitchen either, turning back down the hall where the bathroom had been, I find an empty office and then another, closed door. I knock softly but no one answers, going to open the door, the handle turns with ease. I push the door open slowly and call out.
"Hello?" There's soft music playing and suddenly I see Professor Harte come out of another back room, she pulls off her wet top and starts taking off her pants. I clear my throat loudly and she yelps in shock, turning to look at me she covers her bra-clad chest with her hands.
"Noah!" She shouts, "What are you doing?"
"Sorry, I knocked and tried to call out before but you didn't answer..." I pause, my eyes slowly glazing over her body, it was just a nice looking as I imagined. Her beautiful collarbones, perfect plump tits, full curved waist that leads down into her gorgeous hips. I knew she would notice I was looking and probably get upset, so I speak before she can, "Can I get some clothes, mine aren't exactly dirty but you did find me on the sidewalk."
"Oh... Yeah of course." She pulls her shirt back on quick and I lose my nice view of those wonderful, soft, lace covered globes. Once she's pulled it on she goes over to her dresser and pulls out a small stack of clothes, "They're from an ex, so I don't know if they'll fit you. But it's the best I have." I step over and go to take the clothes from her.
"Thank you, I appreciate it," I say softly, our hands touching. She pulls away sharply and I just shake my head, turning and walking back to the bathroom to get dressed. Before I can get out the door, she speaks.
"Wait!" She calls out, I turn back to look at her. She walks to me quickly and suddenly kisses me. It doesn't process at first, but I kiss her back quickly the moment I realize what's going on. She pulls away suddenly, "I shouldn't do this, you're still not okay."
"If I lay down I should be fine," I say cheekily with a chuckle.
"No, Noah this isn't okay, it would be like taking advantage of you and I already rejected you. It would just be confusing," She starts rambling.
"Well... What do you want? Do you want to go on date and have a boyfriend?" I slowly start stepping towards her, she begins stepping back toward the bed, "Or do you want me..." Her legs hit the back of the bed. "To fuck you?" I can see her lip quiver slightly, somehow I had managed to make my stern Professor nervous.
"I-I..." She hesitates for a moment, " I want you to fuck me." She says honestly, her cheeks blushing as the words leave her lips.
"Then that's not confusing at all." I drop the clothes with an audible noise and drop my towel along with them. I step the final few inches to her and kiss her again, my hands playing with the hem of her shirt, “Can I take this off?” I look at her beautiful emerald eyes, she bites her lip and nods her head slowly. We pull away for a moment and I pull the cloth off. My hands instantly fondling her lace covered breasts, her hands press onto my back and I start kissing her again as we fall onto the bed.
My hands trail down her stomach and undo her pants, she wiggles them off and the only thing between us now is her underwear. My kisses move across her cheek, down her jaw and to her neck, where I suck and nip the soft flesh as she moans beside me. My hands move around to her back, unclasping her bra and pulling it off. I'm hiding how excited I am to see her breasts bare, but my hands don't waste time, going to fondle her nipples.
“Mm-Noah...” She calls out my name, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve heard in a long time. Laying on my side, with her on her back, my hand trails down her stomach as I finally look down at her beautiful mounds. My mouth leaning down and latching onto her nipple, "T-that feels good..." I don't answer her, my hand moving lower, down her waist and into her panties.
"Is this alright?" I mutter against her skin and peek up at her.
"Yes, you can call me Abigail by the way... I don't want you to call me Professor in bed." I chuckle at her sudden thought process, moving back up to kiss her lips. I pull away and look into her eyes.
"You always try to focus too hard in bed?" I ask with a smirk, she hits my chest softly. She purses her lips at me.
"No... I just..." I laugh and kiss her again.
"Will you just relax? It's not like I expect anything of you. I'm honestly still trying to figure out if I actually died earlier and this is heaven..." She looks at me with wide, shocked eyes before a small smile cracks on her face. She leans forward and kisses me, I feel her grind into my hand. Making my fingers slide across her clit and down to her opening. I moan against her lips, surprised and aroused by the feeling of her wet, pussy.
"With the way you've been looking at me in class, if you were dead, you wouldn't be in heaven." She says in a low, seductive tone, before she had seemed nervous and like she was over thinking... Now she's more than assured of herself, this woman is really throwing me for a loop. I grin at her comment, pressing my forehead against her's, I kiss her again, wanting to imprint the feeling of her lips in my brain. The hand down her pants moves back across her hip and up her side, around to her back and down to her ass.
"I may not have earned my entrance to paradise, but your body is the closest thing I will get to heaven on earth." My hands continue to caress over her skin, softly massage the supple flesh and feeling the dips of her curves. She bursts into laughter and I'm once again left confused.
"I have to say that's one of the most poetic lines anyone has ever used." She says continuing to laugh, I look at her a little frustrated.
"I'm being honest, not trying to give you some line. After you said no to a date I thought there was no possibility of me seeing you naked. It's a privilege to get to view the image I've been imagining for months." I say this looking at her very seriously, watching the humor from her face drop.
"Oh... I..." She pauses for a moment looking away before her hands caress over my arms and down my sides, "I've never had someone say that..." I feel her hand press against my forearm, pushing me onto my back, she climbs onto my lap straddling me with a pouty look, "I'm sorry for laughing... most men don't put any real effort in and just want to sleep with me." I laugh at that comment.
"This doesn't seem like me putting in real effort," I say with a little thrust, her eyes shut quickly and she moans out loudly.
"I-No it doesn't, but no man has ever said its a privilege before..." She says with a bright blush on her cheeks. My grin drops and I look up at her seriously.
"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, from the moment I saw you, I never wanted to look at another woman the same. I went out tonight trying to find someone to take my mind of you... But I didn't want to, I want to go home and sulk, then see you in class on Monday." I sigh, knowing I had probably admitted to much, "To think I wouldn't be here if I hadn't gone out though." I feel a weak, self-deprecating smile crack on my face.
"I'm glad you're here." She leans down, her arms wrapping under my neck, and kisses me again. Grinding into my cock as she kind of lays on me. She pulls away for a moment, "Now screw me already." Tell me no more. Rolling her onto her back again, my fingers loop into the waist of her panties, pulling them down. She kicks them off and I situate on top of her, sort of between her legs. Our lips battle for a few moments longer, before she leaves hot, wet kisses down my jaw and neck. I grasp her legs in my hands, she kind of wraps them around me as my cock softly rubs and presses against, "Please put it in Noah." She begs softly, God she knew exactly what to tell me and when. I move my hips and then press my cock against her entrance, the tight muscles resisting for a moment before stretching around my length. I gasp from the feeling of how hot and wet her canal is.
"God... you feel s-so much better than... than I imagined." It's almost hard to speak, her cunt squeezing me like a vice and heating me like an oven. I slowly start to thrust back and forth, enjoying the soft moans it brings from her lips.
"You-you can go harder, Noah..." She whimpers out the words, I can feel her fingers splayed against my back and grasping me. I follow her instruction, pounding a bit harder into her taut muscles.
"J-just let me know if I'm hurting you or anything," I tell her, honestly a bit afraid and just wanting the night to go right.
"N-Noah." I feel her hand grasp my arm, pushing me kind of and I stop moving to look at her confused, "Is this your first time?" She looks at me with a worried look on her face.
"Would you be mad if I said yes?..." I don't know how she had pinned me so easily.
"No! Of course, I wouldn't be mad, just... It'd be nice to know..." She says almost with a kind tone, something I had never really heard from her until today.
"Yes," I admit, closing my eyes, not wanting to see her reaction.
"Okay, we'll just take it slow and I'll let you know if anything happens." She says her hands massaging and caressing my shoulders, she was being surprisingly understanding and nice. I had always been afraid whomever I was with, that they would laugh... Just because most people say I'm kind of old to be a virgin.
"Alright." After I speak she captures my lips in a wet, rough kiss. Her hips weakly thrusting up at me, that brings one of my heads back into the game. My fears almost instantly melt away as she begins to move. My hands move to either side of her shoulders, using the new positioning for leverage to thrust into her with more vigor, her wails, and mews of joy spurring me on. Her hands move up to fondle her jiggling breasts and I can't help but enjoy the add show as she teases herself, "You're so fucking gorgeous." I moan out and thrust harder into her.
"Ohhh... shit you feel so big..." That was an ego boost if there ever was one.
"God I feel close already, you're just so hot and wet." I could feel my cock throbbing as her pussy tried to practically milk me of cum.
"Pull out and cum on my tits." She moans out loudly, my movements come to a halt and she whines in frustration.
"What did you just say?" I ask between soft pants.
"You don't have a condom on and I know you really like them... so, cum on my tits, you can even titty fuck me if you like." She offers up, with sleepy eyes and flushed face, I could tell she was happy but...
"You have climaxed yet though." I retaliate.
"Then change that and I'll let you live out a fantasy." She says between soft pants of her own. Without much more thought I pull out of her and slide down some. Coming eye level with her wet and now slightly puffy cunt. I lean forward and my tongue slips out to swipe against her clit. Enjoying the feeling and taste its only moments before my hands are on her ass cheeks, pressing her to my face as my tongue delves into her entrance. I eat her sweetness greedily, lapping, sucking and nibbling the tender flesh as I brought her closer and closer to the edge. My nose presses against her clit as I thrust my tongue inside of her, the moment making her cry out with every thrust.
"Please... Please, Noah, I'm so close. I need more. Bite me, finger me... do something... I want to cum so badly! I want to cum on your tongue and feel you drink from me!" As I said before, this woman seemed to know exactly what to tell me. I decided to take two of her suggestions, swiftly inserting a finger inside of her and gently biting on her clit, not enough to hurt but to give a stinging sensation. I hear several loud moans and high pitch whimpers as her thighs clamp around my head, the muscles squeezing my already blood drained brain. I moan low against her and do just as she asked, suck and lapping at her cunt in an attempt to get every drop of her. She quivers from the aftershocks I send through her, her hands gently trying to push my head away, though it was caught between her still tensed thighs.
"Hon, I can't move with your legs wrapped around me." Slowly her thighs release me and I pull away, moving up to cuddle her.
"Sorry..." She mutters, looking bashful.
"Why are you apologizing? That was amazing!" I say with a grin.
"Because you were caught." She says softly.
"It's alright, I could be caught between your beautiful legs all day," I say then caress the tops of her love handles.
"Let me take care of you now." Her hand brushes my still hardened cock, I groan from the feeling of her soft touch.
"A-Alright." I sit up and look at her, not exactly sure what to do.
"Get in my desk chair it will be easier." She points over to a simple, black, wheeled office chair. I stand and walk over to it. Wheeling it closer to the bed I sit down and watch her, excited for the next event. She walks over to me and kneels down, taking a breast in either hand she presses them around my dick. I moan at the squishy, soft feeling.
"That feels... different..." I moan out the words.
"Different good?" She asks, obviously more focused now that she had orgasmed.
"Yes, very good." I nod my head quickly. She begins moving her boobs up and down on my cock, the plushy flesh sliding around it and engulfing my prick over and over again.
"Maybe if we..." She seems to mutter something to herself, releasing her breasts, she stands again. Walking over to the bedside table, she opens the drawer and pulls out a bottle with clear liquid. Opening it and pouring it all over her chest, I couldn't help but groan at the sight. She was so close to another fantasy I had thought about... Oiling up her tits.
She comes back over to me, kneeling once again, she presses her now lube covered globes around my throbbing, red dick. Whimpering like a dog, I couldn't believe the feeling of her warm, slick tits on me. She starts sliding them up and down faster on my prick. Pressing her hands together a bit harder, "You like that Noah, you naughty boy. You've been thinking about my boobs a lot, haven't you? You think I haven't seen your boner in class?" Her hands press harder and she moves each breast up and down my cock individually, making the rubbing feel slightly different. I couldn't believe she was doing this right now... How did she know I liked dirty talk?... That I had dreamed of her doing it.
"Yes, I've been such a bad boy." I groan out, my head falling back as I try to focus on not having a heart attack. I was just on verge of climax, but I couldn't reach it.
"Well, bad boys get punished, they get told what to do, and if they want to be good they listen. You want to be good?" She asks me with her usual stern voice. I couldn't help but nod, "Then cum all over my tits Noah, cum all over them like I know you've fantasized. These big, soft, breasts around your cock." That was all I needed, her voice, with her touch. I feel the knot in my stomach release as streams of cum cover her, making her tits truly creamy. I look down at her, panting harder than before.
"A-All of that was amazing." I stutter out.
"I'm glad you think so... come to bed, we'll talk in the morning." She grabs a towel, sort of cleans us both off and then we crawl into her plush queen-sized bed. Cuddling up together, I was surprised she wanted to be so clingy with me, "You really turned my night around Noah... Thanks." She says this softly as she lays her head on my chest.
"I could say the same to you..." I pause and think for a moment, "But I'd rather say thanks for giving me a chance." Her arm wraps over me and she cuddles up close. It only takes moments before I hear her slowed breathing. I fall asleep with a grin on my lips and a girl on my arm...
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6e65832e57aca0b05cc432233f8a4a14417b2cfa9242d912649317598c8e6b82
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Tom Horn always knew he wanted to serve his country on the front lines. He enlisted in the Marines in 1969, received his basic training at Paris Island and his Infantry Training at Camp Lejeune, ultimately serving in Vietnam from 1969 to 1971. Mr. Horn worked sea duty on the USS Columbus, served as instructor for the Special Warfare Training Center and was discharged in 1975. He then went into the Marine Corps Reserves in the Communion Battalion in Huntington, New York, and was the Match Armorer for the National Reserve Rifle Team for the Marine Corps.
For his incredible dedication to his country as well as his sacrifice, Mr. Horn was awarded a Silver Star with a “V” for valor, three Purple Hearts, Three Bronze Stars, the Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry and numerous other medals and citations. He was one of only 42 survivors out of a troop of 680 of the 2nd Battle of Khe Sanh, for which he was awarded his Silver Star and one of his Purple Hearts.
Following his service to his country overseas, Mr. Horn has continued to serve by volunteering. A member of Babylon American Legion Post #94, he has served as Commander on two separate occasions and is currently serving as Post Commander for a second term. Mr. Horn continues has also served as Chairperson of the Board of Management, 2nd Vice-Commander, 3rd Vice-Commander, Bar Chairperson, and on many other committees.
Mr. Horn has been married for 40 years to his wife, Debbie, and together they have three children and two grandchildren. Their eldest daughter, Colleen Horn-Politowski, and her husband Craig reside in Buffalo. Their second daughter, Erin, has been Auxiliary President of Post 94 eight times and has also been Suffolk County Auxiliary President. Their son Kevin is a Marine living in North Carolina; he works for ALLY Financial as a senior systems engineer and is a member of Babylon Post 94.
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2597eeb5126f7988045cdefe3bb740d3accea135803e58b67adb1356808fe80d
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The dogs were up first on Christmas morning. They have no sense of the days of the week—every day is Monday. My husband and I let the dogs out and then fixed their breakfast. After breakfast, they were ready to go back to sleep. The humans, however, had made coffee so we sliced cranberry bread, slathered it with cream cheese and took it into the living room to await our grandson.
Our grandson didn’t get up early—he’s too young to anticipate Santa Claus. To be honest, I’m not sure how much of Christmas he really understands. We are not a religious family. My daughter didn’t take him to see Santa Claus. The three Christmas books that I read more than once were The Grinch, Jack Ezra Keats’s The Little Drummer Boy and Jack Kent’s The Twelve Days of Christmas. The Grinch is scary. “Oh, no!” my grandson cries half way through and covers his eyes. His favorite is The Twelve Days of Christmas. Kent’s characters are comical and the gifts overwhelm the page. So he really had no preparation for Christmas morning.
I cannot describe the look on my grandson’s face when he came into the living room. First he noticed the penguin I had placed next to the fireplace. I had bought it to put on the front porch but never got around to it. (Nor did I put lights on the house, former SoCal neighbors, for shame!) Instead I put him next to the fireplace. “Penguin!” my grandson squealed. He ran up to the penguin and looked at it. Then he ran around the room, peering behind furniture. “What’s he doing?” asked my husband. “Looking for the other penguins. Everyone knows they come in flocks. ”
Finally he went to inspect the tree. The tree is in a corner of the living room behind the sofa. When you enter the living room, you cannot see the surplus of presents piled underneath. My grandson does not get to enter the living room very often, but he had been in to see the tree and the presents several times in the week before Christmas. He had even been allowed to open a few. Still, the tree on Christmas morning made his jaw drop. “Ohhhhh!” He sat under the tree, picked up a present, and hugged it.
We have two traditions that are unique to my family. The first is Santa paper. In the beginning, Santa paper was the paper that Santa used to wrap my daughters’ presents in. But one of my daughters had problems waiting until her parents got up before peeking at her gifts. (The same daughter wrote Santa a letter each year explaining why she had been bad and promising that she would be better next year if he left her a gift. Santa fell for this every year.) Santa helped us out by wrapping each girl’s gifts in a different wrapping paper. Only I was privy to whose presents were in each paper. So many gifts under our tree do not have name tags.
The other tradition is that only one person can open a present at a time. This gives you time to say ‘thank you,” and admire the gift (or pretend that you like it). It takes most of the morning to open gifts at my house. We start with the stockings. The first present my grandson opened was a small penguin. Immediately he set it next to the one by the fireplace. “Mommy. Baby,” he sighed contently. My grandson was happy with this slow pace. He had to open every box of toys, remove the contents and play with them before opening another gift. “Thank you! Thank you!” he said over and over as each present was opened. It wasn’t just the presents that were awesome. He had to crawl in and out of the big boxes that held other people’s presents.
I sat in the living room, watching his happiness, his patience, his excitement and thought: “It will never be like this again.” Next year he will be close to four. He will anticipate Santa Claus and presents. He will want a specific toy. He might not spend so much time carefully examining each gift, making each one seem like the best thing on earth. But this year was a year of wonder.
When I was a young mother, I did not stop to appreciate the miracles of my daughters’ world. Perhaps it was the result of trying to make the world special for my children. Perhaps it was the result of other relatives’ demands during the holidays. I did not stop to think: “This is the best time of our lives.” There was always going to be another Christmas, another birthday, another time that would better. And there were better days and there were far worse days; the problem was that I ruminated on the bad and failed to revel in the good. I was always looking to some future where things would be different. Perhaps I was too young to appreciate the simple joy of children.
Now I have decades behind me. I have learned to take life slowly. I have learned to value the miracles. There are still but horrible, no good days in my life. I still ruminate but I can delete them from my mind far easier than I could when I was young. Life is better because I am no longer in a hurry to get to somewhere else. Every day I appreciate my husband and daughters. Every day I marvel at something new and unique. Every day I find a reason to laugh. This is the best time of my life.
Happy New Year! May your new year be filled with wonder and laughter. May it be the best year of your life!
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36d8558fb265b49d6983f0d5e06b5674925655e4a47cb962924a3a23c12425d7
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Ryan has been a follower of Christ since 2000, when he accepted Christ as a sophomore in high school. Since that time, Ryan has consistently served in the local church, especially in musical worship as a pianist, guitarist, and vocalist. Ryan graduated from Bethel Seminary San Diego with a Master of Divinity, cum laude. As an aspiring Hebrew Bible scholar, Ryan was awarded the Academic Achievement award in Old Testament studies amongst his graduating class. Upon graduation, he was also inducted into the Yodh Chapter of Eta Beta Rho, the National Honor Society of the National Association of Professors of Hebrew. He lives and works in San Diego, CA with his wife Laura and son Simon.
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e7cec3b42efa82fbf3bb5c22c3ce952ed6e3a843555ab201f202b0275178b88c
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How I Use It
I use this as an "into" activity to build background in the early stages of a Revolutionary War unit. This was also an adequate replacement activity for students who were not able to attend a field trip to Riley's Farm (a hands-on experience where students physically live out a day in the live of a Revolutionary). Students who stayed back at school that day played the game and were able to relate to the students who went on the field trip and the experiences they went through.
This was a great game to get students involved in a time period of which they have very little understanding. I used this with 5th graders, and they loved being in control of the game and how they progressed. They were given objectives, allowed to make choices (for good or bad), and they were able to experience (virtually) how life was for colonists on the brink of the Revolution. The game was short, however, and once it was completed there wasn't much to extend the learning for students.
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47d30c616d00d94559f2cef1d9d7b71942a70c5bdd7dd1bc25d828b7bdbd79f4
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World Defying Dan God - novelonlinefull.com
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It would take about two years for them to reach that place. Chen Xiang felt a little tired just thinking about it, and walking all the way to that place would also be a great test of perseverance.
Chen Xiang was the most relaxed of them all, it was just following behind them. The disciples of Fire Path and Sword Dao all fought hard and got injured while bleeding hard. After walking for half a year, the original one thousand people of Fire Path had already died over two hundred years.
Although there were not many disciples of the Sword Dao, but their overall strength was very fierce and not a single one of them died. This was all thanks to the few people of the Pill Dao.
"Don't these guys have any spatial magic treasures for carrying people? If we put them inside, it would be much more convenient to leave along with them." Although Chen Xiang didn't need to help out, following the road for more than half a year was still very arduous for him.
Of course, he had gained a lot. He was in charge of collecting the corpses of the savage beasts from the back. In his Divine Sense Sea World, the corpses of the savage beasts were piled into a mountain.
"It's not our choice to keep killing like this. If only we could have discovered those groups of savage beasts earlier. However, these groups of wild beasts first noticed us, and then they pounced on us." Tai Shangzhen said. After so many days, he also felt tired.
Moreover, he did not know how many hordes of barbarian beasts he would have to kill in the future. He did not know how strong the horde of barbarian beasts would be in the future.
"Our spiritual perception isn't as sharp as those savage beasts... I have a Heavenly spirit crow, but it's just that it's sleeping. As long as I wake up, my Heavenly spirit crow will be able to easily detect the savage beasts around me. " The middle-aged Fire Dao cultivator said.
"If that's the case, then that's great. How long will it take for him to awaken?" Tai Shangzhen asked.
"More than ten days. Every time this Heavenly spirit crow sleeps, it needs to sleep for a whole year. Counting the time now, it should be about right." The middle-aged man said.
"Then I will rest here for ten days and heal my injuries. I will continue advancing once the Heavenly spirit crow wakes up." Tai Shangzhen said, and all of the higher ups of the other sects nodded their heads in agreement.
The people from Fire Path also didn't have any objections. After all, everyone was very tired after so many days.
At this time, Chen Xiang retreated a bit and hid in the hollow of an old tree. He took out a Six Realms mirrors and sat on top of it.
"They've rested for more than ten days. I'll make some pills while I'm at it." Chen Xiang took out three types of high quality heaven's divine medicine.
He was the one who had helped Tai Shangzhen hunt Poison Tiger last time, the one that Tai Shangzhen gave him. He grew many high-grade Heavenly G.o.d medicines last time, but he did not have the time to refine them.
"I wonder what kind of medicinal herb it is. Eat and have a look first." Chen Xiang took out a bean sized red fruit and pinched it soft. He placed it in his mouth and chewed it a few times before this red fruit immediately burst apart.
After he bit off the red fruit, the juice inside splattered in his mouth. A scorching heat suddenly burst out from his mouth and rushed toward his throat.
"Ah!" Chen Xiang shouted, and immediately used both hands to choke his throat, and then continued to cough non-stop. His face was currently flushed red, hot and spicy, and flames continuously spewed out of his mouth as he coughed.
"What the h.e.l.l is this? It's spicy to death." Chen Xiang coughed for an entire hour, almost coughing out his gall bladder.
Although he did not know what it was, he knew that the power of this little red fruit contained an extremely strong flame Primitive Tao Power. Other than that, it also had a very unique effect; after eating it, it can make the Rule Dao line in his Divine Sense Sea become lively.
Just now, he had felt that the Rule Dao line in the Divine Sense Sea had absorbed a lot of Primitive Tao Power under the effect of that energy.
"Looks like this fruit can let Rule Dao line absorb the energy from the Dao G.o.d soul. In that case, this is something that can strengthen Rule Dao line."
"But how do we cultivate the second Rule Dao line?" Chen Xiang didn't understand anything about this, so he asked the sword spirit.
"Senior Sword Spirit, right now, I am at the first level of the Dao G.o.d Realm. I only have one Rule Dao line, how can I cultivate the second one quickly?"
"That's easy. First, you have to be strong enough in your Dao Meridian. That way, your Dao Meridian will be stable on the second day. Once your Dao Meridian is strong enough, you will need to use a Dao Stone to exchange for the power of law corresponding to your Celestial Sect of Wonders." The sword spirit said, "As long as you have a dao stone, you can go to the Myriad Tao's Divine Stele and exchange for the power of law. This will consume a lot of dao stones."
Chen Xiang had never tried it before, so he did not know much about it.
"Who created the Myriad Tao Divine Stele, is there anyone controlling it?" Chen Xiang asked again.
"Of course there are. They are controlled by all of them, and they are normally located in the number one sect of a great Dao. For example, the Myriad Tao's Divine Stele for the way of the sword is located in the vicinity of the G.o.d Murdering Mountain. The sword spirit said.
"Nope." Although Chen Xiang had wandered around G.o.d Murdering Mountain for a few days, he had never seen any sort of Myriad Tao Divine Stele.
"Doesn't this mean that I am currently unable to cultivate the second meridian?" There was no Myriad Tao Divine Stele nearby.
"Of course, otherwise how could there be so many people under G.o.d Murdering Mountain? It was all for the sake of obtaining the power of law at any time." The sword spirit said, "Let's talk about it when we get back. This matter isn't urgent anyway."
Chen Xiang nodded his head, then took out his little red fruit and refined it into a pill. After consuming it, his basic Rule Dao line would seem to be extremely hungry, continuously devouring the energy released by the Dao G.o.d soul, and after devouring it, it gradually became stronger and stronger.
Chen Xiang also didn't know if he could use the power of s.p.a.ce after cultivating the spatial Rule Dao line. He looked inside the Divine Sense Sea, and saw that one end of the Rule Dao line was connected to the Dao G.o.d soul and the other end to the Fire Profound Gate.
After seven or eight days, Chen Xiang felt that his basic Rule Dao line had become much stronger.
He, who was inside the tree hole, suddenly noticed the movements of the group. He immediately walked out of the tree hole and used Counter Power to go invisible.
"Elder Zhong, what exactly is up ahead? You're an elder, yet you're injured so severely." The middle-aged man from the Fire Dao had a serious expression on his face. The old man from the Pill Dao had already given the old man a pill.
"Yes …" It's the Dragon wolf, there's a group of Dragon wolf in front of us, let's quickly take a detour, we can't follow the directions on the map anymore. " The old man said.
They had taken a detour a long distance before, but now they had finally returned to the route on the map. If they took a detour, it would take a longer time to reach Myriad Tao Mausoleum.
"Dragon wolf... It's that kind of barbaric beast that evolved from devouring Dragon Power. Looks like I'll have to take a detour. " Tai Shangzhen said.
Chen Xiang was very clear of Elder Zhong's strength. He had seen Elder Zhong's attacks several times, and they were all very strong, but he was injured by some Dragon wolf.
"How many Dragon wolf?" The white-robed elder asked.
"Thirty." Elder Zhong said.
The number of thirty could be said to be very small, because the group of savage beasts they faced before numbered in the tens of thousands. However, when they heard about this number of Dragon wolf, the faces of all the strong warriors changed slightly.
"Let's hurry. The Dragon wolf might catch up." This book is from 17K, so the first thing I'll do is to look at the original content!
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These pieces examine reality and representation, intentionally blurring the distinction. They are based on original photographs, which already obscured their subject matter by design, and using solvent photo transfers and pencil were broken apart and layered to continue exploring where readability falls into abstraction.
Greg Headley is an artist, photographer, and writer in Austin, Texas. His recent work is published in the Burningword Journal, Still Point Arts Quarterly, and The Raw Art Review. For many years, his creative focus was in writing and playing music. He had seven CDs and two tapes released on the 28 Angles and Bake labels, and he played concerts in Japan, London, Paris, and cities across the US. Some of his music and short films are available on YouTube.
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How I Use It
This app would be good to use if you were studying countries around the world. Students could work individually or you could set it up for small groups. I could see using this app as a whole group and set up two groups of students who battle against each other. It would be a great way to work on building group skills and focusing on teamwork all while learning about countries/countinents around the world.
This app is very basic and straight forward. There isn't much variation to the format and they don't offer any audio so students who struggle with reading would not do well using this on their own. I would use this in a group activity if I had any special education students or students who struggle with reading. It would be better if it offered audio so the students would get both the audio and visual aspect to help with the learning process.
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- 2017 INDIES Winner
- Bronze, Travel (Adult Nonfiction)
“When I began my journey, I anticipated danger at every turn,” writes Kate McCahill, whose rugged solo trip, mostly by bus, took her through ten Latin American countries.
When she started out, following Paul Theroux’s 1979 route in his travelogue The Old Patagonian Express, McCahill knew very little about Latin America, and even less about the privileges she took for granted as a white, twenty-first-century American woman. “How naïve I was as I fumbled through Latin America; how stupid I was at times, and how lucky,” she writes, noting that she had vastly underestimated the power of the road to both challenge and heal. She found her ties to home, even to her lover whom she’d left behind, loosening the farther she traveled. She became greedy for “the constant shift, the mystery every new place holds, the plunge again into anonymity.”
McCahill writes as much about the inner changes wrought by travel as she does about the landscapes and people of the places she visited. Bypassing most tourist spots, her eyes were opened to the privilege she had known and to events of which she’d been unaware; everyday people told the shocking truth about the effects of US intervention in Central and South America, of disapproved-of governments toppled, of fear, of loved ones “disappeared”; she met fellow travelers who were often more exotic than the locals, and she saw poverty that stopped her breath. But she also found welcome, beauty, the joy of discovering kindred spirits among strangers, and how travel, with its disorienting newness, makes every moment an opportunity for transformation.
This is poetic writing, spare and deep, that unashamedly plumbs the depths of the solitary heart as it is pried open to learn that “it is in feasting on the unknown that we come to know ourselves.”
Disclosure: This article is not an endorsement, but a review. The author of this book provided free copies of the book to have their book reviewed by a professional reviewer. No fee was paid by the author for this review. Foreword Reviews only recommends books that we love. Foreword Magazine, Inc. is disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255.
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German singer, guitarist, and writer. He founded an indie pop group called Tomte and later had a solo music career; his self-titled debut album topped at # 4 on German music charts.
He toured in 1999 with a German rock band called Tocotronic, recording the experience in a published diary.
He wrote music articles for such magazines as Musikexpress, Visions, and Spex.
He grew up in Lower Saxony, Germany. Some of his original songs, including one about the life cycle of salmon ("Zum Laichen und Sterben ziehen die Lachse den Fluss hinauf"), were inspired by his time spent watching nature-themed television programs with his mother.
He and fellow German musician Tobias Kunzel both had successful careers as singers and songwriters.
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Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise: Living Ethically in the Light of the Bible
Matthew 14:22-36; Acts 21:27-40; Psalm 39; Exodus 30-31
The psalmist is in some deep anguish. He is suffering intensely and questioning the purpose of his life (Psalm 39:4). We might imagine him struggling with a chronic painful condition, wondering how long he will have to endure. At first, he decides he will suffer in silence. He won’t even try to say anything good, perhaps fearing it will come out the wrong way or be taken up wrongly. Yet as he bottled up his pain, the pressure built within and his anguish expanded. He had to speak, or he would burst. So he cried to the Lord for help
He sees how fleeting life is: here today, gone tomorrow. Life is but a breath, a vapour, as Ecclesiastes expounds upon. At the same time, he prays to understand how temporal his life is. Many rush around accumulating wealth without realising it all passes away. Maybe he has regrets as he faces his own mortality, realising he has wasted much of his life pursuing material things.
However, the psalmist’s pain has another source. He did not want to speak about his anguish because he knew that God was behind his pain. He did not know how to speak of this without fools (those who do not believe in God) taking advantage of his words. In this particular case, God is rebuking and disciplining the psalmist for his sin (Psalm 39:11). This leads the psalmist to further struggles. On the one hand, his hope is in the Lord, so he welcomes God’s involvement in his life; on the other hand, no discipline is pleasant and he wishes God would leave him alone (Psalm 39:13). No wonder he was afraid to voice his struggles. Yet in his honesty, he shows that we can go to God and unload all our doubts and questions.
In Psalm 39, the anguish and suffering is traced to God’s disciplining hand (39:11). The biblical message is that the Lord disciplines those whom he loves, just as a father disciplines his children (Hebrews 12:4-11). Psalm 38 raises an important balancing point. Here, suffering is traced back to the consequences of sin and the actions of others (Psalm 38:18-20). Suffering can have very different sources. Just because Psalm 39 identifies the hand of God behind the anguish, we should not think that God is the orchestrator of all the suffering we go through. Suffering has many sources.
What we see in both these Psalms is a common way to respond to suffering. Whether wronged by others, burdened by our own sin, or disciplined by God, the psalmist seeks God’s presence and comfort (38:21-22; 39:12). He voices his doubts and struggles, seeing that silence only intensifies his feelings. His security in his relationship with God allowed him to be open with him. He wanted God both to turn away and leave him alone, but also to listen to him and no longer be a stranger. Like a child who is both angry at his parents’ discipline and longing for their loving presence, David’s honest ambivalence is reassuring. We do not like the Lord’s discipline, yet through it we know we are loved. This can help us come to see that meaning in life is found only by living in the Lord’s presence (Ecclesiastes 12:13).
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Editor's note: This story includes graphic descriptions of experiments conducted on mice that may upset some readers.
Today, Wernher von Braun is remembered as a rocket engineer who spent his career singlemindedly focused on enabling human spaceflight, first for Nazi Germany and then for the U.S.
But everyone has a past, and long before his career took off, von Braun was a student, unsurprisingly enough. Even then, he was obsessed with spaceflight, according to an account written decades later by a friend he met in 1931 that Space.com recently stumbled upon.
That friend, Constantine D. J. Generales Jr., recounts that at first he was overwhelmed by von Braun's focus on spaceflight during a brief meeting over lunch in Zurich. "After the usual exchange of amenities, he unexpectedly turned the conversation to rockets, and of all things, of using them to get to the moon," Generales later wrote. The recollections were originally presented at a spaceflight symposium in New York in 1968 and the text was later included in a collection published by the Smithsonian Institution.
A second conversation nearly stalled as well, when von Braun again went straight to rocketry. "To me, this whole thing, as I recall, seemed rather ridiculous, and I began making fun of my friend with 'a one-track mind.'" That changed when von Braun pulled from his pocket a letter allegedly signed by Albert Einstein, which apparently was enough to win Generales over to the dreams of spaceflight.
"As I read the letter and listened to Wernher I became aware of the possibility of future space travel and realized that it was not as absurd as it had seemed at first," Generales wrote. "The question immediately arose in my mind: what about man, can he withstand all these unknown forces and new experiences while being propelled by a sheet of flame into the vastness of space with the contemplated rocket? Right then and there I realized the inescapable necessity for the interdependence of medicine and technology in this great venture and I became a convert to the idea of exploration of space and space travel."
That question never quite disappeared, and Generales eventually became a doctor based in Manhattan who specialized in internal medicine and did research on the potential affects of spaceflight on human health. But when he first befriended von Braun, that career was still years away, and Generales set the duo's sights on a more modest study subject. "I remember clearly my verbal reaction as I handed the letter back to Wernher with the caution, 'If you want to get to the moon, it is better to try with mice first!'" Generales wrote, translating his original German in a footnote.
As Generales recounts, the pair proceeded with the same enthusiasm that von Braun brought to all his rocket-related projects. The future space doctor realized that spinning mice on a centrifuge would produce g forces equivalent to those experienced during a launch, and an experiment was born.
A brief digression: Today, all testing done on animals in the U.S. must be reviewed and approved by an institutional animal care and use committee, which considers how animals are treated before, during and after an experiment, the procedures used during the research, and how scientists intend to euthanize the animals should that be necessary. These committees were established in 1985.
Research on humans in the U.S. must be approved by an Institutional Review Board, a procedure established in 1966. A key early international document outlining ethics standards for human research, the Nuremberg Code, was written in 1947 in response to dozens of research projects conducted by the Nazis, often in concentration camps.
Back to the would-be space explorers. "A dozen white mice were easily 'borrowed' from the animal caretaker in the biology lab with no promise of return," Generales wrote. "Within a week's time, we were spinning mice arranged in four little hammock-like bags attached, 90° apart, to the perimeter of the bicycle wheel that was mounted on a stand." His account doesn't include specifics about how the g forces were measured, but he notes at one point that mice experienced up to 220 g's).
"We had no idea what the tolerance of the mice might be," Generales wrote. "In the beginning, after a few turns of the wheel, the poor mice, whose hearts you could feel pounding in the palm of your hand, were placed upon the table. They would not move. Were they frightened? But frightened mice ordinarily tend to run away! I nudged them and still they would not move."
He noted involuntary eye movements and observed that once those subsided, the mice began to move. He presumably euthanized them, as he recounts necropsy results that showed internal bleeding and hearts and lungs that were out of place.
"All the organs in the chest and abdominal cavities, as well as the brain, were displaced and torn in varying degrees from the surrounding tissues," Generales wrote. "It was obvious that the force which we had achieved was far greater than the mice could tolerate. I noticed that in some cases, the entire cardiovascular system was disrupted."
Von Braun and Generales didn't finish their experiment, testing only two-thirds of the mice they had acquired. "Right at the height of our activities, a dramatic incident occurred," Generales wrote. "A mouse accidentally slipped out of its cradle and was dashed against the wall leaving bloody stains at the point of impact. The next day (I believe it was the third day of our experiments), we were not too surprised that the landlady who was not accustomed to the odor of small laboratory animals, noticed 'the blood on the wall'; became infuriated; seized my notes as evidence of nonsensical cruelty and torture; and threatened to evict us and notify the police unless we immediately ceased these crazy experiments."
They apparently prioritized keeping von Braun's rooms over continuing their testing. "We had no choice but comply with our nonscientific but meticulous landlady," Generales wrote. "And, at the same time, we were very sad about our first casualty, which was, to the best of my knowledge, the first fatality of biomedical research conducted under admittedly crude but nevertheless effective simulated space-flight conditions." (Apparently, he doesn't consider the mice he necropsied as fatalities.)
"As a redeeming measure and to relieve our burdened conscience, we let loose the remaining lucky four mice in the fields to a happier life away from an institutional environment," Generales wrote.
Von Braun's landlady didn't seize the slides that Generales had prepared of tissues from the mice, and he eventually revisited the experiments, publishing the results in 1960 in the New York State Journal of Medicine. In his 1968 account, he calls the tests "unrefined in the face of today's sophisticated methods" but argues that they "produced for the first time scientific evidence as to what damage one might expect to unprotected living organisms."
Generales' account glosses over the years when the Nazis led Germany. In the late 1930s, von Braun led development on rockets that were more immediately used to launch missiles than to launch human explorers. Von Braun remained in Germany throughout World War II, during which concentration camp prisoners were forced to work in rocket factories. In 1945, he moved to the U.S. as part of Project Paperclip, an initiative to recruit German engineers. He worked on the Redstone rocket that launched the first U.S. satellite and eventually became one of the leading rocketeers at NASA. He died in 1977.
Generales was much less famous than his friend, but the two apparently stayed on good terms, appearing together at a dinner in 1958 at which von Braun received an award. In 1975, Generales accused the CIA of trying to persuade him to spy on Soviet scientists, according to The New York Times. Four months after he declined an agent's recruitment, he said, his office was burglarized, which he blamed on the government. He wrote to the White House requesting an investigation into the incident. (As of 1975, he said he hadn't received a response.) Generales died in 1988, according to a brief obituary published by The New York Times.
Mice did indeed become spacefarers before humans did. Both NASA and the Soviets began launching mice in the 1950s, although no living animal made it to orbit until the Soviet dog, Laika, in 1957. The first animals to survive spaceflight were two monkeys dubbed Able and Baker, who flew in 1959.
Governed by modern ethics guidelines, NASA continues to use mice in spaceflight research today, including in the Rodent Habitat module on board the International Space Station.
- Photos: Pioneering Animals in Space
- Able and Baker: The First Primates to Survive Spaceflight in Photos
- Laika the Dog & the First Animals in Space
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Joan Aiken was born in Rye, Sussex in 1924, daughter of the American poet Conrad Aiken, and started writing herself at the age of five. Since the 1960s she wrote full time and published over 100 books. Best known for her children’s books such as The Wolves of Willoughby Chase and Midnight is a Place, she also wrote extensively for adults and published many contemporary and historical novels, including sequels to novels by Jane Austen. In 1968 she won the Guardian Children’s book prize for Whispering Mountain, followed by an Edgar Allan Poe award for Night Fall in 1972, and was awarded an MBE for her services to children’s literature in 1999. Joan Aiken died in 2004.
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The handsome and steady-eyed Patrick McGoohan, who has died aged 80, was the star, co-writer and sometimes director of one of British television's most original and challenging series of the 1960s, The Prisoner. In it, he played Number Six, a mysterious, resigned former secret agent who is always trying to escape from the Village, an apparently congenial community which is in fact a virtual prison for people who know too much. They are allowed to be comfortable there only if they conform completely and do not try to escape.
McGoohan was at the time, 1967, the highest earning British TV star, paid £2,000 a week through appearing in a highly successful secret agent series called Danger Man, in which he was John Drake, a European security man who – on McGoohan's own insistence – never carried a gun or seduced a woman. But he was becoming disenchanted with the series, whose American purchasers from Lew Grade's British television company ITC were pressing for more stock banalities such as car chases, shoot-outs and sex scenes.
He was invited to lunch with one American executive, who explained that they wanted pictures of him on the screen with glamorous girls - or, as McGoohan himself put it, "the corny showbusiness formula, the publicity machine grinding away". He declined, and the lunch lasted only six minutes.
McGoohan, who had his own production company, Everyman Films, suggested to Grade a different, seven-part series for which he and others had prepared scripts, called The Prisoner. Grade cheerfully admitted that he had not understood a word of what McGoohan proposed, but had so much confidence in him that he agreed to fund it immediately.
Grade's chief international customer, however, wanted a longer series. There were 17 Prisoner programmes, each of them loaded with mysterious psychological nuances, and set in an ideally artificial Village – in reality Portmeirion, an experimental community with exotic buildings designed by the architect Sir Clough Williams-Ellis, in north Wales.
From the opening titles, the programme was no easy ride. An angry secret agent drives into London in his fashionable Lotus 7 as a storm threatens, bursts into his boss's office, throws his resignation down on to his desk, and storms out again. At home later, he finds an undertaker at his door. Gas comes through the keyhole, and he collapses as he packs his bags to go away. He wakes up in the Village, and no one will tell him where he is or why he is there, only that he is Number Six. " I am not a number, I am a free man!" is his answer - and battle was joined in 17 attempted escapes.
In the series McGoohan met several sinister Number Twos but could never find out who Number One was until the last episode, improvised by McGoohan and his large writing team at the last moment, when Number One's false face was pulled off to reveal a monkey's underneath. When that too was pulled off, it revealed the face of McGoohan's Number Six himself.
The implication that human beings can imprison themselves was timely in the swinging 60s, while at the same time the notion of the security services as the real enemy was seeping its way into fiction that had previously existed in more black and white terms. The programme achieved cult status for both itself and McGoohan personally, who had involved himself in all aspects of the productions in a way his colleagues thought obsessive. He became a darling of the campuses, but found that The Prisoner was a difficult act to follow.
In 1974, Everyman Films went bankrupt with debts of £63,000, at least half of it owed to the Inland Revenue. By the 1980s, McGoohan had recovered, The movie Kings and Desperate Men (1981) was praised by British critics and he starred on Broadway in Hugh Whitemore's Pack of Lies.
The cosmopolitan variety of his professional interests owed something to his background. He was born in New York to parents who were once Irish farmers. His father, though barely literate, had an ear for Shakespeare, so that when Patrick read plays to him, he would remember and recite whole passages months later.
The family returned to Ireland when he was six months old and then, when he was eight, moved to Sheffield. Patrick later won a scholarship to Ratcliffe college in Leicester, where he played Lear in a school production. Leaving school at 16, he went to work in a wire mill, rising from the factory floor to the offices and then leaving to work in a bank.
This made him feel caged, so he set up instead as a chicken farmer, until an attack of bronchial asthma put him in bed for six months. He walked around Sheffield looking for work and eventually tried the Sheffield Repertory Company, for which he became assistant stage manager. When members of the cast were off sick, he was asked to step in, and found that he was best in the lighter Shakespeare plays, gaining praise for his Petruchio.
McGoohan stayed for four years, by which time he had appeared in 200 plays, including a touring production of The Cocktail Party in a small mining town, lit by miners' lamps when the electricity failed. He met and married the actor Joan Drummond, with whom he had three daughters.
He made his first appearance in the West End in 1955 as the lead in Serious Charge. Orson Welles saw him there and asked him to play Starbuck in his production of Moby Dick Rehearsed. At the same time he stood in for Dirk Bogarde during a screen test, and was offered a five-year contract with Rank. But the studio's "charm school" approach irked him and the contract petered out after four films.
After this, he turned more towards television and appeared in a production of Clifford Odets's The Big Knife, about a paranoid Hollywood producer and the protege actor who he thinks has betrayed him. It was seen by Grade, who thought McGoohan ideal for John Drake in the Danger Man scripts. From 1960, McGoohan played in 86 episodes. At around this time, he turned down the chance to play James Bond in the first Bond movie, Dr No, seeing the Bond character as a stock gunman who treated women badly.
In 1968, when The Prisoner series was ending, McGoohan left Mill Hill, north London, to live in Switzerland after the local council refused him permission to fence his house off from prying eyes. In 1973 he moved to Pacific Palisades in California. There he wrote poetry, a novel and television scripts. He appeared in, wrote or directed some of the Columbo films in which his American friend Peter Falk appeared as the deceptively ruffled detective.
This redoubtable enemy of dumbing-down remained a highly individual operator into the 1990s. In 1991 he came to London to make the TV version of Whitemore's play The Best of Friends, in which he played with considerable plausibility and élan another Irishman not frightened to swim against the tide, George Bernard Shaw. In 1995 he was cast as Edward I in Mel Gibson's Braveheart.
In 2000, he provided the voice of Number Six for an episode of The Simpsons, and gained his last film credit in 2002 as the voice of Billy Bones in Treasure Planet. A proposed film version of The Prisoner has yet to make it to the screen, but a remake of the TV show has recently been filmed by ITV, with the US actor James Caviezel as Number Six, and is due to be transmitted later this year.
McGoohan is survived by his wife, three daughters and five grandchildren.
Patrick Joseph McGoohan, actor, writer and director, born 19 March 1928; died 13 January 2009
• This article was amended on Thursday 15 January 2009. Portmeirion is in north, not south, Wales. This has been corrected.
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When his position as estate manager ended Jensen's father returned to Denmark and Jensen completed his schooling in Copenhagen. In 1876 he entered the College of Technology and there he studied a range of science subjects including physics, chemistry and mathematics. It was, however, mathematics which began to dominate his life as he lost interest in other topics so that he could devote all his attention to the mathematics he loved most of all. Dropping all other subjects except mathematics, he began to undertake research on his own, publishing his first papers while a student at the College of Technology.
Jensen was essentially self taught in research level mathematics and never held an academic appointment. At just the time when mathematics was the only subject that interested him and one would have expected someone of his abilities and keenness to go on to research degrees, he accepted an appointment working for a telephone company. This was not out of desire to give up mathematical research, rather it was to enable him to earn money to support himself so that he could continue to enjoy himself as a mathematician. His position was with the Copenhagen Division of the International Bell Telephone Company and, not unexpectedly for someone of his outstanding abilities, he soon impressed both for these abilities and for the hard work he was prepared to put in for the company.
In the following year, 1882, the Copenhagen Division of the International Bell Telephone Company became the Copenhagen Telephone Company. The Company thrived, at least in part through the high level of technical skill that Jensen possessed. He continued to work for the company until 1924 becoming head of the technical department in 1890. For his whole working life Jensen was an amateur mathematician only doing mathematics in his spare time. However, he reached a very high level of expertise as a mathematician as he did as a telephone engineer.
Jensen contributed to the Riemann Hypothesis, proving a theorem which he sent to Mittag-Leffler who published it in 1899. The theorem is important, but does not lead to a solution of the Riemann Hypothesis as Jensen had hoped. It expresses :-
... the mean value of the logarithm of the absolute value of a holomorphic function on a circle by means of the distances of the zeros from the centre and the value at the centre.He also studied infinite series, the gamma function and inequalities for convex functions. In a paper which he published in Acta mathematica in 1906, Jensen proved an inequality for convex functions which had a whole host of classical inequalities as special cases.
Jessen writes in :-
Weierstrass was his ideal, and his papers are patterns of exact and precise exposition.
Article by: J J O'Connor and E F Robertson
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Dulcie Kelly Nangala was born at Papunya in the west of the Central Desert area. She spent her younger years there before relocating to Mt Liebig as a teenage girl. Living in the very artistic community at Mt Liebig, Dulcie was surrounded by many artists and creative pottery makers. Dulcie divides her time between Alice Springs, and her home in Mt Liebig where she takes part in many important women’s ceremonies and traditions.
Her stories have been handed down to her by her mother, the renowned artist Lily Kelly Napangardi. Dulcie has now passed these stories on to her own daughter Georgina Kelly.
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Eugene Ferguson was charged with thirteen crimes resulting from two incidents in which two women were raped in their apartments in the same complex. Two counts of burglary and a robbery count were dead-docketed. The trial court directed a verdict as to an armed robbery charge. A jury acquitted him of one count of rape, aggravated assault, one count of burglary, and one count of kidnapping, and found him guilty of one count of rape, OCGA 16-6-1
(a), one count of burglary with intent to commit rape, OCGA 16-7-1
(a), one count of kidnapping, OCGA 16-5-40
(a), aggravated sodomy, OCGA 16-6-2
(a), and financial transaction card theft, OCGA 16-9-31
(a) (1); 16-8-2
. The trial court merged the charges of rape and burglary with intent to commit rape for sentencing. Ferguson's motion for a new trial was denied.
On the afternoon of December 19, 1991, E. P., who was 76 years old at the time of the incident, heard someone knocking on the door to the apartment across the hall and opened her door to inform the visitor that her neighbor was not at home. A man grabbed her, pushed her into her apartment, forced her into her bedroom, threatened her life, and raped her. In the late afternoon on February 25, 1992, H. P., who was 68 years old at the time, left her apartment to retrieve her mail from her box in the mail house. As she was returning to her apartment, she noticed a man following her. She began hurrying and struggled to unlock her door quickly. When she had unlocked the door, the man placed his hand over her mouth and pushed into the apartment with her. He released his grip long enough to close the door, and the victim screamed. He then pushed her to the floor and attempted to choke her before releasing her. He pulled her to the bedroom, where he raped and sodomized her. Before he left, H. P. gave him her ATM card in order to get him out of her apartment.
Detective R. T. Ford of the Atlanta Police Department was able to obtain photographs taken by a hidden camera at an ATM machine of the person attempting to use H. P.'s card. These photographs were publicized, and through past employment, the man in the photograph was identified as Ferguson. Then, using a better photograph, a photographic lineup was composed. It was made up of eight photographs, including that of Ferguson. It was shown to H. P., and she positively identified the photograph of Ferguson. On the strength of that identification, H. P. signed a warrant for Ferguson's arrest, and he was arrested. On March 12, 1992, a physical lineup was held at which E. P. also identified Ferguson as the perpetrator of the earlier crimes against her.
At trial, the State introduced evidence of a similar crime in the form of the testimony of the victim of that crime. L. C., a 74-year-old woman living in an apartment complex in DeKalb County, had been raped by an intruder in July 1990. Shortly after the rape, she had viewed a photographic lineup and had identified one photograph as resembling her attacker, but she was unable to identify him positively. She had viewed a physical lineup in March 1992, and she was certain of her identification of the man in position number four as her attacker. Detective Ford testified that the man in position number four at the lineup was Ferguson.
1. Ferguson contends the lineup identifications of him by E. P. and L. C. should have been suppressed. He argues his right to counsel under the United States and Georgia Constitutions was violated when the lineup proceeded in the absence of Ferguson's counsel, despite his earlier and repeated request that she be present. We do not agree.
Although the lineup in issue was conducted after Ferguson was arrested and after a preliminary hearing had been held on the charges stemming from the crimes against H. P., H. P. did not view that lineup. He had not been charged with any crimes against either E. P. or L. C. at the time of the lineup. No constitutional right exists to have counsel present at a pre-indictment lineup. Johnson v. State, 198 Ga. App. 316 (2) (401 SE2d 331) (1991)
. See Thornton v. State, 238 Ga. 160
, 161 (1) (231 SE2d 729
) (1977). The constitutional right to counsel is "offense-specific." Phillips v. State, 204 Ga. App. 698
, 700 (1) (420 SE2d 316
) (1992). Although Ferguson had been charged with crimes against H. P., no adversarial proceedings had been commenced against him in connection with crimes committed upon the other two victims for whom the lineup was arranged. As to those victims, the lineup was a pre-indictment proceeding. Id. The trial court did not err by failing to suppress the lineup identification evidence.
2. Ferguson asserts the similar transaction evidence was erroneously admitted because the lineup identification by L. C. was inadmissible, and therefore no evidence existed that Ferguson was L. C.'s attacker. As we have held in Division 1 that the lineup identification evidence was admissible, this enumeration has no merit.
"[B]efore any evidence of independent offenses or acts may be admitted into evidence, a hearing must be held pursuant to Uniform Superior Court Rule 31.3 (B). At that hearing, the [S]tate must make three affirmative showings as to each independent offense or act it seeks to introduce." Williams v. State, 261 Ga. 640
, 642 (2) (b) (409 SE2d 649
) (1991). It must show that it seeks to introduce the evidence for a proper, permitted purpose; that sufficient evidence exists to establish that the accused committed the independent offense; and that there is a sufficient similarity between the independent offense and the crime charged, "so that proof of the former tends to prove the latter." Id. The trial court must then make a determination that each of the three showings was made. Id.
The State asserted that it sought to introduce evidence of the rape of L. C. "to explain the nature of the crime, to prove his [Ferguson's] identity, and to establish his motive." This is a permissible purpose. Guyton v. State, 206 Ga. App. 145
, 146 (1) (424 SE2d 87
) (1992). Ferguson's identity as the perpetrator of the independent crime was shown by L. C.'s identification of him at the lineup, and the crimes were extremely similar. All were committed against elderly women during daylight hours by entering their apartments forcibly after the women had opened the doors. All the victims were raped and otherwise harmed physically, either by choking or hitting. The trial court properly found that all three required showings had been made. We find no error in the admission of the similar transaction evidence.
3. Ferguson maintains the trial court erred in failing to merge the kidnapping conviction with either the rape or the aggravated sodomy conviction. He argues that here, as in Fredrick v. State, 181 Ga. App. 600 (2) (353 SE2d 41) (1987)
, the kidnapping offense was included within the rape or aggravated sodomy offense as a matter of fact because, although the body of the indictment charged him with kidnapping with bodily injury, it was styled only as kidnapping, and the trial court did not charge the jury on kidnapping with bodily injury. He asserts, therefore, that the jury was permitted to consider only kidnapping, not kidnapping with bodily injury, and that the State used up all the evidence showing kidnapping in proving the two other offenses.
First, Ferguson may not enlarge his enumeration regarding the merger of offenses to assert error in the trial court's failure to charge on bodily injury. See Bridges v. State, 205 Ga. App. 664
, 665 (1) (423 SE2d 293
) (1992). Moreover, although the court did not define the term "bodily injury," the term is commonly understood. Edwards v. State, 197 Ga. App. 51
, 52 (397 SE2d 559
) (1990). The jury was informed that Ferguson was charged with kidnapping with bodily injury and that the basis for the charge was his choking of H. P. This was sufficient. Id.
Second, there was sufficient evidence from which the jury could have found that Ferguson's action in choking H. P. before forcing her from the living room to the bedroom constituted the bodily injury necessary to establish all the elements of kidnapping with bodily injury. This crime was completed before Ferguson committed either the rape or the aggravated sodomy. Accordingly, he was properly convicted and sentenced for all three offenses. Olsen v. State, 191 Ga. App. 763
, 764-765 (1) (382 SE2d 715
Lewis R. Slaton, District Attorney, Barry I. Mortge, Shawn E. Lagrua, Assistant District Attorneys, for appellee.
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Lemi Ghariokwu is one of Africa's greatest visual artists. Lemi has a career spanning almost 40 years which includes designing 26 original cover images for the Nigerian musician legend, Fela Kuti. Lemi also has over 2,000 other album cover designs to his credit including covers for Bob Marley and a host of other music legends.
Lemi's style to art is influenced by his deep philosophical views on social and political events. His designs are multi-faceted and combine a variety of styles and media.
Lemi was a member of Fela's much loved Young African Pioneers. These self-proclaimed rebels supported Fela's music with their art, poetry and writings. Lemi relationship with Fela Kuti was very close and he was often mentored and advised by the Afrobeat legend.
Ghariokwu's works are in the collection of art and afrobeat lovers around the world. His painting, Anoda Sistem, is in the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art.
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"None of the modes by which a magistrate is appointed, popular election,
the accident of the lot, or the accident of birth, affords, as far as we
can perceive, much security for his being wiser than any of his neighbours.
The chance of his being wiser than all his neighbours together is still smaller."
"Southey's Colloquies on Society" par. SC.62
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House of Jiménez
The Kingdom of Aragon began its life in 1035 when it was established as an independent Kingdom. Its first King was Ramiro I of Aragon, an illegitimate son of Sancho III of Pamplona.
Ramiro’s first wife was Ermesinda of Bigorre, who was thus the first Queen of Aragon. They went on to have five children before her death in 1049. He remarried to a woman named Agnes, who was perhaps the daughter of the Duke of Aquitaine but they had no further children together. Ramiro died at the Battle of Graus in 1063 and was succeeded by his eldest son, now King Sancho V. Sancho had married Isabella of Urgell in 1062, and they had one son together before divorcing in 1070. The following year, he remarried to Felicia of Roucy with whom he had a further three sons. Sancho died in 1094 at the battle of Huesca and was succeeded by his eldest son, now King Peter I of Aragon. In 1086, he married Agnes of Aquitaine, and they had two children together, who both predeceased their father. Agnes died in 1097 and Peter remarried to a woman named Bertha, but they had no children together. Peter died in 1104 and was succeeded by his half-brother, now King Alfonso I.
Alfonso had distinguished himself in battle and married Queen Urraca of León and Castile in 1109, but the marriage was annulled in 1112. Upon his death in 1134, he was succeeded by his last surviving brother, now King Ramiro II. Ramiro had taken monastic vows, but he suspended them to marry Agnes of Aquitaine and father an heir. He was thus known as The Monk. Their only child Petronilla was born in 1136. He arranged for her marriage to Raymond Berengar IV, Count of Barcelona, who was 24 years older than her and abdicated in her favour. Petronilla became the first Queen regnant of Aragon at the age of just one. The marriage was ratified when Petronilla was 14 and consummated the following year. Their marriage produced five children. Petronilla was widowed in 1162, and she abdicated the throne in favour of her seven-year-old son two years later. Her son now became King Alfonso II, and he was the first Aragonese ruler of the House of Barcelona.
House of Barcelona
King Alfonso II married Sancha of Castile in 1174, and they had eight children together, though not all lived to adulthood. Upon his death in 1196, he was succeeded by his eldest son, now King Peter II. He was the first King of Aragon to be crowned by the Pope. In 1204, he became the third husband of Marie of Montpellier, and they had one son together before he repudiated her. Upon his death in 1213, he was succeeded by their son, now King James I, who became known as the Conqueror due to the many expansions of the Kingdom under his reign.
James married Eleanor of Castile, and they had one son together before he had their marriage annulled. Their son would marry Constance of Béarn but he predeceased his father without having issue. In 1235, he remarried to Violant of Hungary and they had ten children together, though not all survived to adulthood. After Violant’s death on an unknown date, he remarried to his mistress Teresa Gil de Vidaure. He left her when she developed leprosy. James died in 1276 and was succeeded by his eldest surviving son, now King Peter III. He had married Constance of Sicily, the heiress of Sicily, in 1262. They had six children together. Upon his death in 1285, he was succeeded by his eldest son, now King Alfonso III. His second son became King of Sicily.
King Alfonso III was betrothed to Eleanor of England, but he died in 1291 before the marriage could take place. His brother James was now King of both Aragon and Sicily. He agreed to give up Sicily to his younger brother in 1295. He was also King of Sardinia and Corsica after claiming the territories in 1297.
James II was married four times but as his first marriage to Isabella of Castile had been annulled, it was his second wife Blanche of Anjou who was the first Queen of Sardinia. They had eleven children together, and she probably died from complications from the birth of her 11th child. James remarried in 1314 to Marie of Lusignan, who was also the heiress of Cyprus. She died five years later without having had children. He remarried in 1322 to Elisenda of Montcada, but they too had no children. Upon his death in 1317, he was succeeded by his son, now King Alfonso IV, in all his territories.
Alfonso had married heiress Teresa d’Entença in 1314. They had seven children together, though not all lived to adulthood. She died in childbirth just days before Alfonso succeeded as King. In 1329, he remarried to Eleanor of Castile and had two further children by her. Alfonso died at the age of 36 and was succeeded by his eldest surviving son, now Peter IV.
In 1338, Peter married Maria of Navarre and had two surviving children by her. She died in childbirth and Peter remarried 1347 to Eleanor of Portugal (1328 -1348), but she died just one year later of the plague. In 1349, he remarried to Eleanor of Sicily and had three surviving children by her. Upon her death in 1375, he remarried for a fourth time to Sibila of Fortia in 1377. They had one surviving daughter. Upon his own death in 1387, he was succeeded by his son from his second marriage, now King John I.
John had married Martha of Armagnac on 24 June 1373, and they had five children together, though only one daughter would live to adulthood. Martha died in childbirth in 1378. On 2 February 1380, he remarried to Yolande of Bar. They had six children together, though only one daughter would live to adulthood. Upon John’s death without sons, the throne passed to his younger brother, now King Martin I. His daughters did try to claim the throne, but neither was successful.
Martin had married Maria de Luna on 13 June 1373, and they had one surviving son. In 1409, he remarried to Margaret of Prades, but they had no children together. His only surviving son died in 1409, and upon Martin’s death, the rule of the House of Barcelona came to an end. In 1412, his nephew was chosen as King Ferdinand I.
House of Trastámara
Ferdinand had married Eleanor of Alburquerque in 1393, and they would have seven children together. Ferdinand’s reign lasted just four years, and upon his death in 1416, he was succeeded by his eldest son, now King Alfonso V.
Alfonso had married Maria of Castile in 1415, but they had no children together. He did have three children with a mistress. In 1421, the childless Queen Joanna II of Naples adopted and named him as heir to the Kingdom of Naples. She subsequently named someone else as her heir, but he eventually succeeded as King of Naples in 1442. He managed to obtain papal consent to leave the Kingdom of Naples to his illegitimate son, who became King Ferdinand I of Naples. The other kingdoms, including Aragon, went to his younger brother, now King John II, in 1458.
John had married the future Queen Blanche I of Navarre on 6 November 1419, and he had three surviving children by her. Blanche died in 1441 and John remarried to Juana Enríquez in 1458, and they had two children together. He kept control of the Kingdom of Navarre for his lifetime to the agitation of his and Blanche’s eldest son and heir Charles. Navarre eventually passed to their eldest daughter and then to their youngest daughter after Charles’s death. John was succeeded in his own territories by his eldest son from his second marriage, now King Ferdinand II.
Ferdinand had married the future Queen Isabella I of Castile and they would have one son, who died in his teens, and four daughters. After their son’s death, it was unclear who would succeed Ferdinand as female succession was not quite as accepted as it was in Castile. Their eldest daughter died giving birth to a son who could possibly succeed, but he died young. Their second daughter married Archduke Philip of Austria and had six children together. She succeeded her mother in Castile upon Isabella’s death in 1504. Ferdinand was determined to keep their kingdoms separate and remarried to Germaine of Foix hoping to father a son. They had a son, but he died shortly after birth. When Ferdinand died in 1516, Philip was long dead, and he named Joanna and her son Charles as his co-heirs. By then Joanna was confined due to her supposed insanity.
House of Habsburg
Charles not only inherited his mother’s territories but also his father’s. In addition, he was elected Holy Roman Emperor in 1519. Aragon and Castile were now united in what would become known as Spain, though Aragon retained autonomous parliamentary and administrative institutions. He married Isabella of Portugal in 1526, and they had three surviving children together. Isabella died in 1539 after giving birth to a stillborn son. Charles never remarried. Charles abdicated in 1556 and was succeeded by his son, now King Philip II.
Philip married four times. His first marriage was to his first cousin, Maria Manuela of Portugal, and they had one son together. Maria Manuela died shortly after childbirth. In 1554, he married his first cousin once removed, Queen Mary I of England but she died in 1558 without having had children. In 1559, he married Elisabeth of Valois, and they had two surviving daughters together. She miscarried in 1568 and died shortly after. In 1570, he married his niece Anna of Austria, and they had one surviving son. Upon Philip’s death in 1598, he was succeeded by his son, now King Philip III.
Philip married his first cousin once removed Margaret of Austria in 1499. They had eight children together, though not all would live to adulthood. Margaret died shortly after the birth of her eighth child, a boy who died before his first birthday. Upon Philip’s death in 1621, he was succeeded by his eldest son, now King Philip IV.
Philip married Elisabeth of France in 1615, and they had eight children together. Of their eight children, six died young, and his only son died at the age of 16. Elisabeth died in 1644 and Philip remarried to his niece Mariana of Austria. They went on to have five children, of which two surviving to adulthood. Upon his death in 1665, he was succeeded by his only son, now King Charles II.
Charles was mentally and physically disabled due to the many generations of inbreeding. Despite marrying twice, to Marie Louise d’Orléans and Maria Anna of Neuburg, he fathered no children, leading to a succession crisis. He was succeeded by King Philip V, who was the younger grandson of Maria Theresa of Spain, the only surviving child of Philip IV and Elisabeth of France.
Aragon’s autonomy ended with the Nueva Planta decrees between 1707 and 1715. The heir to the Spanish throne still carries the traditional title accorded to the heir apparent or heir presumptive to the Crown of Aragon. Leonor, Princess of Asturias, daughter of King Felipe VI of Spain, is also Princess of Girona.
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“I think that I might have… well, uh…fallen in love with you. A little.” Julia shrugged her shoulder and crinkled her nose.
Still holding himself above Julia, Aaron blinked a few times. His mouth opened but no words came out.
Did she say love? She is in love with me?
Say something, jackass.
Aaron steadied himself then brought one hand to Julia’s, which still rested across her face. He wrapped his fingers around hers and pulled it away. She slowly opened her eyes which had been squeezed shut.
“I just said that, didn’t I? I’m such an idiot.” She said softly as she looked up at him.
“No, you’re not.” Aaron lowered his head and then met her mouth with his. He kissed her slowly and with intent.
After a few moments, Aaron lowered down to the bed and twisted to lay on his side facing Julia. He took a moment to himself. This was a moment he didn’t intend on screwing up.
Aaron’s mind flashed back to earlier that evening when he saw the family at the grocery store and the way seeing them made him think of Julia and a future with her. He already knew that those same feelings she admitted to having were stirring inside of him as well. He was falling in love and if he were being honest with himself, he knew he had been for a while.
Your turn. Say it.
As they lay facing each other, Aaron reached for Julia’s hand and intertwined his fingers with hers.
“Julia, you’re not an idiot. I’m glad you said it.” He smiled and brought his forehead to hers.
“And, well, since we’re talking about it…,” he said as he brought his other hand behind her head. “I
might have, what was it you said? Uh, fallen in love with you, a little bit, too.” Aaron said with a laugh.
Julia’s face softened with a smile; a sense of relief washing over her features. “Well, good. That makes two of us.” She laid her arm across his shoulder and pulled herself closer to him.
Aaron quickly turned over to lay flat on his back and he brought Julia with him. “Stop talking so much and let me kiss you.” He held her on top of him, let his fingers tangle in her hair, and claimed her lips.
He reached down with one hand and began to slide Julia’s panties down and she helped them off the rest of the way. Aaron felt Julia’s hands travel down his chest to his stomach and knew when he didn’t feel her touch anymore that she was going for his boxers. They pulled their mouths apart long enough for Aaron to get the boxer briefs down to his shins and Julia quickly jerked them off and dropped them on the floor.
“I don’t have any…,” Aaron’s voice was low as he spoke through kisses referring to the medication he sometimes took to aid in performance.
Aaron let his hand find its way between her legs and felt her already present moistness.
“I don’t care.” Julia said quickly. “It’ll be enough without it.”
Aaron explored further with his fingers and Julia’s breath quickened.
“I promise it will be…,” she said softly.
“We should probably do something productive at some point today.” Aaron’s stretched his arms above his head.
“Yeah…probably…,” Julia agreed with a small smile.
It was late Saturday morning and they were still in bed, having woken up and been blissfully unaware of the time a short while earlier. In a post-I-love-you-exchange haze, there was no rush to get up and begin the day. They had taken turns using the restroom, both coming back to the comfort and tranquility of the bed.
Aaron turned over on his side to face Julia. “Hungry?”
She shook her head. “Not particularly. You?”
He cracked a lazy smile. “I’m a guy. I’m always hungry.”
“Let’s get you fed then.” Julia reached out her hand and patted his chest teasingly. She leaned in and kissed him tenderly before throwing back the covers and slipping out of the bed. She looked over her shoulder at Aaron as she pulled on her panties and a camisole then slipped on a thin gray knee length robe.
“Alright, I’m coming.” He began to sit up and scooted back against the headboard.
Julia went to the chest of drawers and pulled something out, then she went to the bed and leaned across it. “Here.” She handed him a pair of pajama pants he had left there.
“Thank you.” He said as he tossed back the covers from his bottom half. He shook out the pair of pants and began to pull them on.
Julia backed off the bed and turned to leave the room. “What are we having?” She asked as she made her way down the hall.
“I don’t care… really.” He said. “Be right there.”
Aaron got the pants on quickly and then threw his legs over the edge of the bed. He leaned out and grabbed his chair, pulled it closer and hopped into the seat efficiently. He lifted each leg and placed his feet on the footplate then he grabbed his t-shirt and tugged it on over his head. He pushed around the end of the bed and from the bedroom.
In the kitchen, Julia stood in front of the open refrigerator, looking into it silently.
When she heard Aaron’s wheels on the kitchen floor, she glanced over her shoulder. “I have…nothing. I have nothing to cook.” She spoke through a laugh.
Aaron stopped right behind Julia and leaned out to place both hands on her hips. He poked his head around and took a look in the fridge too.
“Unless we can whip up something from…bottled water, lemons, and…is that string cheese?” He pulled Julia back and she had no choice but to sit right on his lap.
“Hey now...” Julia said.
Aaron wrapped his arms around her middle and she leaned back into his embrace. He moved her hair aside and kissed her neck. Julia let out a small gasp when she felt his lips. He was getting good at knowing which places on her body were most sensitive.
“Maybe we should go grab something instead.” He said finally.
“Yeah. Maybe. Right after you finish what you’re doing.” Julia turned her head to give him more room to explore with his mouth. She reached her foot out and closed the refrigerator door.
“Suddenly, I’m not that hungry anymore anyway.” He said softly and continued his task.
“Wait…,” Julia said. She stood quickly and turned around, hiking up the robe and straddling his lap. Her bare feet dangled over the wheels of the chair and she placed her arms around Aaron’s neck. He grabbed her waist and settled her to sit more evenly on his lap.
They weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Morning came and went, and by late afternoon, they were starving. A pizza was ordered and they sat on the couch with the open pizza box on the coffee table.
Julia sat with her legs crossed on the couch cushions and held a plate for the pizza she was devouring. Aaron had already eaten two pieces and was starting in on the third. Thankfully the refrigerator held a few beers which were pairing nicely with the hot and greasy pizza.
“I like today.” Julia took a swig from her bottle of beer.
Aaron smiled and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I do too.”
Julia set her plate and beer bottle on the coffee table and then turned to Aaron. “You missed a spot.” She reached out and wiped sauce from his cheek with her thumb then leaned in to kiss him quickly. She settled closer next to him.
“Hey, speaking of days…,” Aaron said as he leaned forward and set aside the plate he held.
“Your birthday is soon…,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t think I forgot.”
Julia smiled and rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on.”
“Well, it is. And it’s your thirtieth if I’m not mistaken.” He took a pull from the beer.
“Yes. The big three-oh. God, I am so old.” She laughed.
“No, you’re not. Not even close.” He nudged her softly with his elbow.
After a moment, Julia sat up straighter and leaned into Aaron. “Do you want to fly somewhere? Just us. I don't want to do the whole party thing for it. A long weekend, maybe?”
Aaron smiled. “Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere. Throw a dart at the map. We’ll go there.” Julia sounded excited.
“Alright, let’s do it.” Aaron placed his hand on her thigh and gave her a squeeze. “Got a map?”
Julia uncurled her legs and jumped up from the couch. “I’ll be right back.”
She came back from the kitchen a minute later and moved the pizza box, plates and beer bottle out of the way. She laid down a spiral bound road atlas and opened it to the map of the United States.
Aaron couldn’t help but to let out a chuckle. “You don’t mess around, do you?” He shifted his position and sat straighter on the couch.
Julia sat back on the couch next to him.
“No, I do not.” She laughed.
“Got a dart?” He asked.
Julia leaned forward to the open book. “Well…no…”
“Close your eyes then and just point to a spot on the map.” Aaron leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees.
Julia nodded. “Ok. Here goes.” She closed her eyes and lifted her finger.
“Don’t peek.” Aaron poked her side.
“Hey! Stop!” She laughed and opened her eyes.
Aaron chuckled. “Alright, go.”
Julia closed her eyes again and lifted her finger. She circled her hand around the map and then dropped her finger down.
Aaron leaned forward more to see where she was pointing.
“Oh god, where is it?” She asked with a laugh, her eyes still closed. “I’m scared.”
“Open up, babe. Take a look.” He placed his hand on her back.
Julia opened her eyes and looked down. She immediately started laughing. “Ok. Well, that’s the Pacific Ocean. So… Hawaii it is.”
“I’m in.” Aaron said with a smile.
Thank you for your patience on this chapter! I always love reading your comments, so please tell me what you think.
Next chapter up two weeks from now!
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Massimiliano Messina was born in Catania, Sicily on December 20th 1973. He was just three months old when his parents moved to Brianza, in the extreme north of Italy. It was here, a few years later in 1978, in the city of Meda, that his father, Rosario, founded Flou S.p.A.
Following his graduation in 1995 with a degree in Economics and Business awarded by the Bocconi University in Milan, he enjoyed a few years of work experience in the marketing divisions of the multinational companies Shell and Kraft, and spent a period of time in USA to perfect his English.
At the end of the 90s, he joined the family business and was responsible for multimedia projects, in particular, the development of an innovative program for cost estimates via the Internet, with 3D graphics; it still has approximately 25,000 requests every year.
In 2008, he took over the role of Director General of Flou, a position he held until 2011 when, following the sudden death of his father, he was appointed president, sharing the responsibilities of managing the company with his sisters Cristiana and Manuela, respectively responsible for Trade Marketing and Research & Development.
Since 2010 he has been a member of the Steering Committee of Federlegno-Arredo.
In 2013 he founded Natevo, a spin-off brand of Flou S.p.A.
He has three children from his marriage to Veronica – Nicole, Leonardo and Carol.
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Jarin has been involved with music since he was a young boy. Growing up in small town Saskatchewan, it was a struggle to get lessons, but once hes was able a passion was ignited. After high school he went off to Grant MacEwan College and completed a 2 year course in Jazz Performance through the bass program. After living overseas for 1.5 years, he returned to Canadian soil, and enrolled in University of Saskatchewan to study Agriculture( Yes, you read that right ). While in Saskatoon, he was a member of many bands, and also held 2nd chair in the Saskatoon Philharmonic Orchestra. After completion of University he moved to Calgary to pursue music full time.
After writing and recording his debut solo CD, he toured and played in support. He also maintained a teaching schedule of 50 students per week for a number of years. While teaching, he was given the opportunity to receive training through Fender Music, to maintain one of his teaching studios store stock. After completion of the training, he apprenticed under a southern Alberta luthier and honed his craft. He continues to receive training whenever possible, to compliment the years of experience under his belt.
Jarin is currently a certified technician for Fender Music Co. and Taylor Guitars. He is also a memeber of G.A.L( Guild of American Luthiers) and A.S.I.A (Association of Instrument Artisans)
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Do you know who has the keys to your home or business? If you have had the same keys for more years than you can remember, the answer is probably that you do not. Most keys can be easily duplicated (see Products for Non Duplicable Keys), and over time you have probably had more made than you remember.
Changing a lock cylinder (rekeying lock) so that new keys operate them is a simple procedure for a locksmith and it instantly gives you a specific answer to who has your keys. If you have too many different keys for different locks floating around, it is also possible to key those locks “alike”, or make other minor modifications (usually), so that you have fewer keys to keep track of and therefore a better idea of who has them.
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I had a dentist appointment today so I was up north of Gaithersburg this morning. After I was done there, I cut trough the woods on Game Preserve Road to Clopper Road. I stopped briefly at St. Rose of Lima Catholic Church and took some photos in their graveyard, including this one of cross shaped markers seen here against the white of the church building. This is the older part of the graveyard and includes members of the Clopper family, after whom the road was named. This road, although not in West Virginia, is reputed to be the inspiration for Bill Danoff and Taffy Nivert who wrote Take Me Home, Country Roads and then finished it with John Denver, who recorded it in 1971.
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World Defying Dan God - novelonlinefull.com
You’re read light novel World Defying Dan God Chapter 1307 online at NovelOnlineFull.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit NovelOnlineFull.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
Elder Uncle Li pa.s.sed four Relive Dan pills to He Tang and the others, saying, "You can take a look for yourselves."
"There's no need to look." He Tang was very calm. Even though he was shocked, he did not suspect.
"The reason why three pellets came out is because of the conclusion given by the Foreseeing Alchemy, but this little brother did not use the Foreseeing Alchemy. I think he used the most direct and fastest way to refine the ingredients, and that can indeed reduce the loss of Medicine aura s. If we are serious, four pellets is not a problem." Elder Uncle Li said, he was also surprised in his heart, this pill refining technique must be very powerful, but he knew that it was not easy to master.
"Let's go." He Tang pulled the He Hong and left. Everyone originally wanted to chat a bit more with Chen Xiang, but Ma Dong anxiously brought Chen Xiang and Xiao Ling away.
"Come often when you have time." This is what the Elder Uncle Li said to Chen Xiang.
Chen Xiang knew that the Elder Uncle Li was a guy that hid his strength, and instantly saw through many things.
"Master Yan, don't go out during this period of time. Stay here, I'll go inform the young master." Manager Ma brought Chen Xiang back to the shop and arranged for a few experts to protect Chen Xiang.
"Then what about Little Ling?" Chen Xiang looked at Xiao Ling and asked.
"From now on, she is yours. This is her blood contract." Manager Ma threw a beast skin piece to Chen Xiang and quickly left.
Chen Xiang brought Little Ling back to his own house and then gave her the blood contract. He said with a smile, "From now on, you are free to go."
"Thank you … "Thank you, Big Brother Yan." Little Ling's eyes were red as she put away the blood contract, "I will definitely serve Big Brother Yan well from now on, for the rest of my life."
"Little girl, you don't have to follow me in the future. You can do whatever you want to do. It's not fun to follow me, you might even get chased down." Chen Xiang smiled as he pinched her exquisite face.
"I'm not afraid." A sweet smile appeared on Xiao Ling's face again. However, this was the smile that came from her heart, not the stiff and emotionless professional smile from before.
"Mhm, Little Ling is so brave." Chen Xiang also knew that this little girl had no relatives or reasons. He didn't want her to feel lonely so he wouldn't reject her at the moment.
"Big Brother Yan, you're really amazing. Your pill refining level is already considered very strong in Myriad Dan Immortal Country. Even the geniuses that the princes were proud of are not as good as you." Little Ling said.
"Little Ling, do you have a surname?" Chen Xiang caressed her head and asked lovingly.
"Nope." Little Ling shook her head.
"Then from now on, I will be surnamed Shen." Chen Xiang smiled.
"Why should I be surnamed Shen? Can't I be surnamed Yan with Big Brother Yan's surname?"
"You'll know in the future. Don't ask now." Chen Xiang took out a spirit fruit for her to eat. This was given to her by Long Xueyi, and it was rare for her to be so generous.
"I'll be Shen Lingling from now on. Big Brother Yan, are you saying that you're my big brother?" Shen Lingling was currently very happy. Although her own ident.i.ty was very lowly, this Big Brother Yan was very good to her. In her eyes, he was a good person.
"Yes, I have two younger sisters. From now on, we are family." Chen Xiang said in a low voice: "Don't tell this to anyone else."
Chen Xiang had treated her so well, but he just felt pity for her. Furthermore, they were fated to meet, and what he had done was very simple, to make Shen Lingling, who had lived in this cruel world since he was young, feel warmth. Seeing Shen Lingling happily dancing in the courtyard, Chen Xiang felt extremely happy in his heart.
"Is there any way for her to continue to raise her strength? Even though she's a Worldly Immortal, her foundation is very weak, and her Innate Qi is very weak. I guess her cultivation technique is not that good." Chen Xiang asked Long Xueyi and the others.
"If it was our previous peak strength, we might have been able to help her. But now, it's very difficult. Even if we use immortal pills, we would still need high grade ones." Su Meiyao said.
is now a Dragon King, and she should have already stepped into the divine way. At that time, she will cultivate out a Twin Dragon Pearl and let Long Huishan give her a Dragon Pearl. It won't hurt Long Huishan at all, she can still condense one more Dragon Pearl. Long Xueyi said: "If my cultivation is sufficient, I can give it to her."
"Dragon beads can be used in this way? Then wouldn't it be fine if I go kill the holy dragon now?" Chen Xiang said.
"This won't do. Those dragon pearls are useless. First of all, it's a man, and that's a Yang Dragon Pearl. Moreover, that dragon bead would not be willing to fuse with this little girl. Only those dragon beads that it willingly gives out will be useful." Long Xueyi said.
Chen Xiang said: "After I finish what I have to do here, I will go and find Big Sis Long and help me to the end."
Now that the Sacred Dan Realm had fused with the Heaven Realm, it would be much easier for Chen Xiang to find Long Huishan. Furthermore, Du Hai was also here, he hoped that he would be able to find the Dan Immortal at that time.
"Master Yan, there's a very slovenly old man outside who wishes to meet you. He said that he and your master are friends, and that his strength is not bad at all." a guard shouted from the doorway.
At first, Chen Xiang suspected who this old man was, but after he thought about it for a moment, he knew that this slovenly old man was definitely his master, Huang Jintian.
"Give him some clothes. Tell him to come see me after he takes a shower and changes. You have to be polite with him." Chen Xiang said. He was now a master, and the fact that he had been defeated by Number 1 Shop was already known to everyone, his status was incomparably respected.
After Huang Jintian was cleaned up, he had a rather expert appearance. When he heard the news that came from the Myriad Dan Building, he immediately guessed that it was his enchanter disciple and rushed over to eat and drink.
"Little guy, you're amazing." Huang Jintian laughed out loud. If he did not see Shen Lingling here, he would definitely laugh crazily.
Seeing Chen Xiang's sullen face, Huang Jintian patted his shoulder and said: "I'll be staying here for a while, I don't need you to take out anything to eat or drink, this sixth shop will definitely treat me like a lord, don't worry, don't worry, I won't take any of your ten million Spiritual crystal."
Chen Xiang said: "Those ten million Spiritual crystal have helped Xiao Ling to redeem herself."
Huang Jintian looked at Xiao Ling and laughed sinisterly: "You brat, there's a bunch of women waiting for you in the Human King's Immortal Palace."
"Old Yellow, how are they now?" Chen Xiang asked anxiously.
"Cough cough …" Little Girl brought her two disciples with her parents, and Hua Xiangyue brought her disciple to the Hundreds of Flowers Immortal Country.
Chen Xiang asked again, "Then... Where's Dongfang Xinyue. "
"This blacksmith girl is yours too." Huang Jintian was a little surprised.
"She took Dongfang Jing to other places. She said that there is a connection between that place and her Dongfang family. Oh right, this Dongfang Jing said that she is your little sister, and you have quite a few little sisters." Huang Jintian joked.
Chen Xiang glanced at Xiao Ling, and said: "This is also my little sister, don't go crazy in front of her."
"Oh... "Alright, make the arrangements. I will be by your side in the future, and also investigate the matters in the palace. There is no news from there, and it will not be easy to enter." Huang Jintian said.
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When I was eight years old I got my first pair of roller-skates.
I woke up on Christmas morning with anticipation that shimmered in front of me like the gauzy curtain of a boudoir. I ripped it aside with nary a thought of how it may have been thoughtfully placed to create a mood, such was my desire and my need.
I ran to the box that was the size and the shape and the heft of the things I had been wishing for since at least November, which of course was the same as forty-seven years in my eight year old chronoestimation. I held the box in my hands and waited a century-second before hungrily tearing off the slippery-gaudy-cheap paper. Skates. At last. Skates.
The wrong skates.
My heart stopped beating for a moment-year, and I buried my face in the remnants of that gaudy paper, ashamedly scratching away the look of horror, before my parents could see what the face of an ungrateful child looked like.
The skates were white, yes. The wheels were red, yes. They were boots, yes. But they were Hang Ten. I wanted Redstones. More than wanted: I needed Redstones. In that moment of complete and total disappointment, I knew that there was nothing I could do, and that I would never have Redstone skates. The part of my forebrain that somehow knew things that adults knew, was aware that this was probably my one shot. My one chance at owning Redstone roller-skates. And now it was gone. So close / so far.
I forced a smile to my mouth and to my eyes, and carefully laced the hideous wrong-skates. My parents were overfrothing with the happy that comes from seeing their child truly love the carefully-chosen gift so much, that they can’t even speak. I couldn’t speak.
To keep my hands from shaking and my from eyes crying, I began the soothing task of lacing, and once done, I slowly made my way down the slick cement front steps. Each step was heavy with the despair of the wrong-skates. I took a deep breath, bent my knees slightly to get my centre of gravity just so, and pushed off down our driveway.
The skates rolled forward like nothing I’d ever felt before. They had a power of their own. I barely needed to push- I was gliding, gliding, flying, gliding.
“Am I flying? I think I’m flying!” I screamed so the people two streets over, behind the Henwood’s double storey house could hear. “These skates are AMAAAAZING.”
I skate-flew out onto the road, and lifted up to the touch the lowest lying clouds with the three lateral fingers of my left hand. From my place above the world I looked back to see my Mum and Dad below: she leaning into the space at the front of his chest where she fitted like a nesting cup, he with a grin that threatened to split his head open like the watermelon on that weird knife ad.
I think I heard him shout, “I know you wanted Redstones, but the Hang Tens have better bearings. They’ll roll better.”
I didn’t exactly know what that meant, but that day I knew without a doubt what considered, quiet, caring, love meant.
It meant Hang Ten skates.
The very best kind of love. Love that makes you fly.
…From The Ashers
*This was created from a prompt from Liz Gilbert’s creativity challenge: What did you most love to do when you were eight? It was supposed to take 20mins. I failed- this took me 37minutes. Oh well. Close, as they say, but no cigar.
What did YOU love to do when you were eight years old? Do you still do it?
I mean that- why the hell not?
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Columbine by Dave Cullen:
Patrick Ireland was trying to learn to talk again. So frustrating. The first couple of days he couldn’t manage much of anything. He struggled to spit out a single sentence, word by word, and when he had finished, it often made no sense. In his best moments, Patrick spoke like the victim of a severe stroke: slow, labored attempts would produce a single guttural syllable, then a sudden burst of sound. He could form the words in his words in his head, but few made the passage to his mouth. Where did all the rest go? Any chance distraction could hijack the thought as it made its way to his vocal chords. Random phrases often slipped in to replace the ideas. His mom would ask how he was feeling, and he’d answer in Spanish, or recite the capitals of South American countries. His brain was never aware of the mix-up. He was sure he had just described his mood or asked for a straw, and was confused by her confusion.
Patrick’s brain tended to spit out whatever was in short-term memory. He had been studying the capitals just before the shooting, and recently returned from Spain. Often the memories were more immediate. Hospital intercom announcements were constantly echoing out of Patrick’s mouth, in response to unrelated questions. He had no idea he had even heard the voices in the background. Other times it was complete nonsense. “Picture-perfect marsupials” kept popping out. No one knows where that came from.
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The Age of Chivalry
A chivalrous knight was a very different sort of man from the proud, unruly, land-grabbing, brutal warriors who seemed to have been only too common in the Middle Ages. Warriors could or could not turn into chivalrous knights. Chivalry was a game of make-believe, a fashionable game that the ruling classes played when they were not busy quarrelling and scheming for more land, following their lords to war, or trying to squeeze more out of the peasants and merchants who lived on their land. These people were either “bold bad barons” or they were “very perfect gentle knights.
They were probably a mixture of both. In this essay it will prove that chivalry did exist and played a part in a knight’s training. The age of the knights were often called the age of chivalry. Chivalry came from the old French word chevalerie, which meant, “Horse soldiering. ” Over time, the term came to mean a code of behavior or sets of rules in which a knight was expected to follow and live by. To understand the code of chivalry, the steps a person must take in preparation in becoming a knight have to be look upon.
A young boy training for knighthood usually left home around the age of seven. He was sent to a castle of an overload or relative since it was the only logical place for a boy to learn all the required knight skills. There he went through more than one stage of training. The first stage to knighthood was becoming a page where code of chivalry was taught. A page usually trained in the home of a knight or nobleman as mentioned before. There he went through a bloody battle, testing his strength and power through daily exercise.
His exercises would be consisted of running, wrestling, learning how to wield lance, spear and sword. He was taught by follow knights or nobleman how to slash and parry strokes using a blunted sword. He also learns to ride and how to vault onto a bareback horse. During this stage of training the most difficult and tedious part was courtesy. A page was an errand boy too, and he had to learn to serve other knights and nobles. There was a belief that this was one of the key elements in becoming a good knight. During this period of time he would also learn the code if courtesy (polite behavior).
A page should not sit until bidden; when spoke to should not fidget, wriggle, scratch or lean against a post; and should speak only when spoken to. ”1 It is very obvious why this was the most difficult part in being a page. Proper behavior was hard to follow. The process in becoming a knight was not over as yet. After successfully been trained as a page the next step to knighthood was becoming a squire. Around the age of fifteen or sixteen a page then became a squire. Being a squire was not as bad as a page. There was more excitement.
A squire was a servant to a knight, and he would accompany him wherever he went. This meant that a squire could go to tournaments, and they even got the day before where all the squires were allowed to show off their skills by taking part in a mock tournament. In the tournaments of the knights, a squire would stand by his knight ready to aid him, handing him new lances when needed, or if he was wounded, help him from the field. Another exciting duty was squires get the opportunity to guard prisoners. They took and entertained the captives until a ransom had been agreed.
Many squires took pride in these occasions to show how chivalrously they could behave. However, a squire did not have only excitement, but he had his normal duties and services to perform also. “They squire’s whole life was governed by the notion of personal service to the knight. He woke him up in the morning and helped him dress. He would welcome visitors on his behalf. He carved meat at the table according to special custom: a duck had to be broken, a hen despoiled and a peacock disfigured. His last duty of the day, he helped his knight prepares for bed.
He, then, slept on the floor by his knight’s bed in case his master should want him during the night. ”2 Like the belied that if a boy (page) was to become a good knight he has to learn to serve, it was believe that for a squire experiencing such training at first had he would then appreciated the honor and responsibilities of knighthood. To graduate to the status of a knight, a squire usually performed a heroic deed in battle. The squire was welcomed into the order of knights by being dubbed with a sword or slapped in the face by his lord.
Afterwards the new knight would receive his gift of land. As the cult of chivalry developed in the 12th and 13th century, knighting if a man might be preceded by a religious vigil in which the knight vowed to uphold Christian and chivalric principles. The code o chivalry is bow understood since an in depth view of the process and training in becoming a knight in explained, but there were other things that influence chivalry. Courtly love was, one of the major influences on chivalry, the system that came to define relationships between knights and ladies in the feudal court.
A knight devoted himself completely to a married or engages to marry a woman at court. He tried to win her favor by waged war or went into combat with another knight on horseback fighting with lances, usually in a tournament. On a less dangerous side, a knight in hoping to entertain and win his lady, wrote poetry, sang love songs, and played musical instruments. If the knight was lucky and proven himself to his lady, the two might consummate their love secretly, then after a period of courtship marriage could result.
Indeed the role of courtly love among the feudal nobility was undeniably influential even through that its ideals ran counter to the Christian ideals of chivalry. So far, the true meaning of chivalry detailed was all true. The question is whether knights always show courtesy or not. A knight could use his strength and wealth in doing good for those who were weaker and poorer or abuse their power. In reality, a knight did not always live up to these high ideals. Code of honor was applied only to members of his own high rank (sometimes).
Knight often acted brutally toward people of lower rank or those whose lands they conquered and plundered. Chivalry in the later Medieval period did become a game for the ruling class. In the beginning, chivalry had been a code of behavior, which a knight had to live by. Knights were men on horses who had spent much of their time fighting. However, the increasing uses of hired soldiers and the introduction of gunpowder made knight less and less important in society. The role this played on chivalry was strong.
It showed how chivalry evolved into a less valuable position and cause the decline also. Knights who fought on horseback with lance became a game. The nobility tried to display their fighting skills by staging elaborate tournaments. In the beginning, tournaments have served as war games that had keep knights at their peak of fighting efficiency. In the later medieval period however, there were often little differences between the games and reality of war. There were large bands of knights that engaged in bloody mock battles destroying many acres of good farmlands.
Many knights were left wounded and dead. Later tournaments became less of a preparation for war than an elaborate pageant. In these elaborate tournaments, nobles worked desperately to impress one another. They amused by the decline of Western Europe. After, the European economy had begun to decline, an in 1247 the bubonic plague, which had appeared frequently in the 14th and 15th century, recurred. The plague had killed a large population. This helped to bring about disintegration of the feudal order. In the end it can be agree that chivalry did exist.
There was a process that a person passed through in order to become a knight. The life of a page and a squire was both difficult and grueling, although the life of a squire was not that bad. Courtly of love was one of the major influences of chivalry and even up to today existed in the role of men and women, when it comes to relationship. In the end chivalry was no longer a code of behavior but rather a game that ruling class played. However id did exist, we were able to look back upon it and learn, ponder, be objective and say that the life of a knight was all about the man in the shining armor.
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I was standing in the kitchen of the tiny farmhouse we lived in out on the prairie. A small school bus turned into the winding dirt drive and proceeded towards the house. Dust pulled up behind it as it bounced along. I yelled to Doug in the next room, “Did we have a school group coming that I forgot about?” He couldn’t remember one either. I wiped my hands on my apron and stepped out the front door and waved. The bus came to a stop next to the garden and through the windows I could see that this was one big family. The children came bounding down the center of the bus and out into the fresh air. A little girl held onto a large white duck.
“Something is wrong with his leg,” she said, looking up at me hopefully, “Can you fix it?”
“What’s wrong with that duck?” I asked, pointing to another one that they had brought with them.
“Oh nothing,” the mother replied, “the ducks can’t be separated or that one yells its head off!”
And so I went about healing the duck’s broken leg.
My book, Cherokee Home, is my first fiction book, but as all good fiction is, it is nearly entirely based on true stories.
In my book, the main character is an herbalist and her stories are my stories. The stories of the medicine man came from a medicine man. A dear friend of mine that I spent a summer writing down his stories with as he recovered from a stroke.
My great grandfather was shot in a cornfield in Oklahoma gathering corn for supper one warm day. My grandfather was only three years old but the family tale states that his father took his own life. And perhaps that is so, but in that same time, in that same place, Cherokees were being shot or moved to California so that the oil companies could have their land.
I loved developing the characters who were as familiar to me as myself and my siblings. I remember my mother reading to us at night as we colored in pictures of a coloring book, munching on homemade caramel corn.
Cherokee Home came out last fall but I never really had time to promote it or to do book signings. The other day I came across a picture of that duck from four years ago and smiled.
If you want to read a fun book that touches on history, culture, language, and real tales embedded in fun characters that is great for kids and adults alike, you can find it HERE.
All of my books are available at AuthorKatieSanders.com
(It is nearly impossible to get all typos out of manuscripts, but I sure try. The one typo in the entire book is on the second page. Lord, I am less judgmental about errors in books these days!)
Thank you all for supporting my writing!
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The village lay devastated; huts and houses were burning, heat rising distorting the chaotic scenes. Mothers carrying children; men here and there with assault rifles, dressed in military fatigues. Pointing. Shouting. Shooting. Guzu had been lucky this time, they’d only made him kill one; the man with the leather trousers. The first time they had made him do two and on the first they made him watch, eyes kept wide open. There was blood everywhere, all over him.
That time when they got back to the camp they pushed him towards the outside hoses and told him to clean up. They gave him a T-shirt with a faded football logo on and a pair of blue shorts with pockets. The T-shirt was yellow and Guzu didn’t mind it too much; although he preferred his own ones at home. The thought of home brought tears to his eyes, too quickly and he couldn’t stop them. They hit him on the side of the head angrily.
He walked on through the burning village, over mortar shell craters and dust heaps. Dead farm animals were all over the tracks. This slum was more rural than his. They were a long way from home near the city before the Valley. A man was beating another, both drunk and wearing fatigues.
This time after they had made everyone surrender; the militia commander called the militia and the soldiers together. He cleared his throat, but smoke from the burning huts kept choking his words. Little that made sense came out and Guzu wondered if they would have more soup and bread tonight. An order was shouted and they were pushed towards the villagers on their knees.
The militia commander pointed and shouted again and then the killing started. Nobody, animal or human was spared. Guzu tried to hide in a house made of weaved reeds, hunkering down until it was over. He heard shouts and fights between the soldiers, gunshots and screams.
He almost missed the slaughter but was caught; he was thrown over to the surrendered soldiers and told which one was his and to get on with it. They called him a killer and laughed. Broken pots, stoves, tables and bodies lay everywhere. He took the man with the leather trousers to the side and looked at him. The man had surrendered and his spirit was broken.
Everywhere laid the dead. Guzu helped the scarred soldier collect the people and put them in a truck. One by one, they traipsed the battlefield picking up body after body until all that was left was the smoke rising from the buildings. Rising high into the grey of the mountains and obliterated into the sky. The scarred soldier got in the truck and drove away with another man.
Guzu stood still, the world moving about him in flashes of colour. Greens of fatigues, oranges and yellows of fire, brown of the earth under his feet. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a clear image, a fox near the edge of the woods. Slowly, he turned to watch the animal. It had its head low, but the eyes were sparkling. The tail swished and twirled as it surveyed the scene. It had a metal object in its mouth, long and thin. To Guzu it looked like a key, an old fashioned one to open a big metal door of a church or castle.
The fox turned and stared unblinkingly at his observer. They stood, eyes locked together over the flames and mortar holes. Guzu nodded to the fox and smiled. The tail swished harder. Then it bound away with sleek agility into the woods. The order to leave was shouted harshly; by a voice still cracked from the smoke.
Back at the camp and on parade for the commander. Pero’s mood was jovial. A good, strong victory.
“Men, you could destroy mountains with your might. You are reshaping the world.”
“Shoot straight and true with your hearts; build a wall around your enemies.”
“Sleep the sleep of the righteous; for tomorrow is another day. Your commander salutes you all.”
Guzu watched as the commander walked away without saluting to anyone, let alone them all. They were ordered to stand down and they went in search of food. The kitchen, a shack near one of the barns was serving soup again, with bread. As a treat, each boy was given a chocolate bar. On orders of the commander no less. He was very impressed by their work.
He walked and ate the chocolate, looking for the first time at the horizon all around him. The world outside is there somewhere; his teacher and his project. His mother and his aunt. They were all out there waiting for him. His mother might be mad about him disappearing. He frowned; perhaps he could find her a present to take home, to say sorry. There wasn’t much around apart from old tyres, oil drums and beer cans.
As he strolled back to the camp, he saw a brightly coloured hair band on the floor. Golden in the dying sunlight. He put it in the pocket of his shorts and almost bounced back to the barn for sleep. He had found a gift.
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Ivan Shishkin was a famous Russian landscape artist who belonged to the “Realistic” movement. He was born on 25th January 1832 in Yelabuga,Russia. He studied painting and sculpture from the Moscow painting school for 4 years. He received golden medal and imperial scholarship for future studies. Ivan worked as a professor for several years.
Ivan Shishkin Biography
He can be called as a “naturalist” who painted amazing Russian landscape paintings. Ivan loved to paint dense forests and tree leaves in a realistic way. His painting titled “A Rye Field” shows the real beauty of Russian fields. Ivan Shishkin technique is often of doubt for art lovers.
- He painted light with yellowish-green color so that it gets a naturalistic look
- He never works on tones and preferred to work on white backgrounds
- Often used warm violet to represent shadows in paintings
He is called as “book-keeper of leaves” because of his great detail to leaves. He studied different dimensions of plants and was much interested in exploring forest beauty.
Ivan Shishkin Paintings
A Rye Field
Rain in the Oak Forest
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SOME time ago I went to my optician in the West End to have my eyes tested. The usual reading tests were not satisfactory. Following them, the very experienced optician examined my eyes very carefully with the ophthalmoscope, spending, I thought, an unusual length of time. When his examination was over, he looked at me in an embarrassed way and, after some hesitation, said: “I am afraid there is a peripheral opacity in both eyes.” “Good God, is it cataract?” “I cannot quite make up my mind whether it should be called cataract or not but, if I were you, I would see a first-rate oculist.”
I was thunderstruck. I remembered that my mother had been operated upon for cataract on both eyes with success, that her father had been operated upon for cataract of both eyes, which life him blind in one eye, and that her grand- mother likewise had had double cataract, that operation in her case had been a failure and that she died at the age of 93 after decades of complete blindness.
I did not consult a single oculist, but saw five or six who had been highly recommended to me by my friends. The first man told me quite bluntly that I had cataract on both eyes, that there was nothing for it but operation and that it was awkward that the disease was equally strongly developed on both eyes, that, therefore, the sight of both would probably fail evenly. He informed me that there was no treatment for cataract except operation, that he could give me eye drops or an ointment or such-like things if I wished for them, but that they were entirely useless.
The other specialists told me that I had an opacity, or a cataractal opacity, or a cataract-like opacity, etc., but all agreed that nothing could be done except operation. Last of all I went to consult Mr. Ernest Clarke, of Harley Street. He no doubt noticed how perturbed I was. He very kindly informed me that I suffered from an opacity which he did not call cataract, that I might keep my eyesight for ten years or more and he prescribed for me reading glasses and distance glasses.
I have in my large homoeopathic library Dr. J. Compton Burnetts two books, Curability of Cataract With Medicines and Cataract Its Nature, Causes, Prevention and Cure. I carefully read them through, altered my diet, left off using salt and sugar, stopped smoking, and spent about L100 on oculists, opticians, dentists, etc. I also consulted my friend, the late Dr. John H.Clarke, who gave me a long course of medicine, from which, unfortunately, I derived no appreciable benefit.
My eyes were indeed in a deplorable condition. I had been wearing reading glasses for more than thirty years, as I was troubled with short-sight and astigmatism. In the course of years it happened occasionally that my eyesight had deteriorated concurrently with deterioration in my general health, and that it had improved later on with improvement in my general health. Therefore when my eyesight was steadily weakening, I had put the matter out of my mind, expecting that self-adjustment would take place in due course. I went to my optician only when I discovered that I could no longer read newspaper contents bills printed in the largest type across the street, a distance of about 20 feet.
I rapidly became used to my new reading and distance glasses and found that I had severe discomfort and pain when I went without glasses. I therefore wore distance glasses day and night, even if I went only to post a letter at a near by pillar box, and I bought hats with unusually large brims to protect my indispensable glasses against rain or snow. My dieting and the homoeopathic medicines had failed to improve my eyesight and I felt utterly miserable.
I had been asked to deliver a lecture on homoeopathy in a private room of a restaurant. I was sitting next to a gentleman who noticed that I was constantly changing from distance glasses to reading glasses and vice versa, when looking at the bill of fare and at the people and at my notes. “Why are you continually playing about with those goggles of yours?” “Unfortunately I have to.”
I told him my story. My neighbour listened sympathetically and then said to me: “I am a West End dentist. I have to do a great deal of fine work which involves much eyestrain. I am between 50 and 60. My eyes were giving me a great deal of trouble some time ago I consulted a lady eye specialist of my acquaintance, not an orthodox oculist. She improved my eyesight immensely and now I can do, the finest work and read the finest print without glasses”.
I was given the name of the lady and saw her promptly at her consulting room in Welbeck Street. She made the longest ophthalmoscopic examination of my eyes which I have ever gone through, told me that my eyes were indeed in a very bad condition, but that she hoped to improve my sight immensely and that she might enable me eventually to read without glasses.
She told me that eyesight depended very largely on the functioning of the various eye muscles, and that, by appropriate exercise of the eyes, massage, electrical treatment, etc., my eyesight might be vastly improved. I listened to her with the deepest scepticism. I said to myself that if it should indeed be possible to improve the eyes very greatly by exercises, etc., one of the five or six leading specialists whom I had consulted ought surely to be acquainted with the fact and ought to have told me what to do. However, a drowning man will clutch at a straw. I resolved to follow the ladys directions. That was about eight months ago.
The change which since then has occurred in my eyesight has been very striking. One might describe it as miraculous. Formerly I went about with four pairs of glasses, two pairs of reading glasses and two pairs of distance glasses, so that I should have a second pair of either, should I lose or break one of them. I was absolutely dependent upon my glasses.
And now I have given up my distance glasses several months ago. Formerly I experienced eyestrain in going about without my distance glasses. Now I experience very severe eyestrain if I try to use my distance glasses. As regards reading, my progress has been even more notable. In a good light I can read without glasses a book with medium sized type or The Times for an hour or two without tiring. The other day, when returning from the Continent, I read during four or five consecutive hours in the train a book while my reading glasses remained in my pocket.
Some months ago I called upon Mr. Ernest Clarke as I wished him to re-examine my eyes. After a careful examination he looked at his notes, taken at my previous visit and said: “I cannot understand it at all. Your eyes have wonderfully improved since you came here, but they ought to have deteriorated as you are considerably over 60. You must not wear the glasses which I prescribed for you last time. They are far too strong for you.” “Indeed, Mr. Clarke, I have not worn them, although I had them made and I hope the time will not be far distant when I shall be able to do without glasses altogether”.
A good old proverb tells us that “the exception proves the rule.” My personal experience of eye exercises might be the one exception, or one of the few exceptions. I meant to find out whether the new eye treatment was generally beneficial and I sent a considerable number of people to my eye practitioner, ranging in age from tender childhood to people of 60, 70 and over. In every case wonderful improvement took place.
A Mr. F.W. Gosling, of Kingston-on-Thames, a business man, 69 years old, who has given me permission to use his name, complained about cataract on both eyes which had been increasing for years. The fact that he had no proper control over his eye muscles clearly showed that eye muscle exercises should prove advantageous in his case. In practically all cases of bad eyesight, whatever the cause, there seems to be insufficient control of the eye muscles. On the 12th August he was given a diet sheet and homoeopathic medicines, and was sent to the Welbeck Street practitioner.
He looked a healthy man, but he had a high blood pressure, suffered from giddiness, especially on rising in the morning, significant headaches at the back of the head, and very pronounced varicose veins. He had many brown spots on the body, and he lived on a diet poor in vitamins, took large quantities of white sugar, much salt, salts for bowel regulation and he was a typical Natrum muriaticum subject. He was given Sulphur 6x night and morning and Natrum muriaticum 30 twice a day between meals.
Three days after he wrote: “It may seem rather absurd to remark that there is an improvement of vision already, perhaps due to a cleansing up of the system.” After the first week he wrote: “I am sending you my first weekly report. The improvement in vision is most remarkable. I have tried to attribute this to fancy and to undue optimism and hopefulness, but there can be no doubt of a great improvement. I opened the newspaper this morning and found myself reading with comparative ease type that for several months I could not have attempted to read”.
Of course it is a moot point whether Mr. Goslings progress was due to a diet rich in vitamins and mineral essentials or whether it was due to the homoeopathic medicines, or to the eye exercise. Probably it was due to all three factors combined. However, I have not the slightest doubt that the eye exercises have been of vast benefit to him, for in my own case the eye exercises have proved potent when strict dieting, homoeopathic medicines, and use of Cineraria instilled into the eyes had failed to benefit.
There is a new hope for those afflicted with poor sight and cataract and every doctor and every thoughtful layman ought to be acquainted with the new method of treating the various defects of vision. Further details about the treatment will be supplied in a subsequent article or articles.
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|Date of birth||August 26, 1950|
|Place of birth||Peterborough, England|
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|CFL All-Star||1980, 1981, 1982|
|Awards||1983 - Tom Pate Memorial Award|
Henry Waszczuk (born August 26, 1950, in Peterborough, England) is a former all star offensive lineman in the Canadian Football League. The five-time divisional All-Star played from 1975 to 1984 for the Hamilton Tiger-Cats.
Henry Waszczuk came to Canada at the age of two. He attended Eastdale Collegiate in Oshawa, and after a successful high school football career, he participated in the Telegram East-West All-Star Game and was named defensive player of the game. Waszczuk earned a football scholarship at Kent State University (Ohio) where the team won the Mid-America Conference Championship. In his senior year, Henry was selected an All-Conference centre and earned an All-American honorable mention.
Waszczuk's professional football career began in 1975 with the Hamilton Tiger Cats when he was drafted in the first round. During his 10-year career, he was an All-Star at centre seven times and made two Grey Cup appearances (1980, 1984). As a Ticat, Waszczuk was awarded the Tom Pate Memorial Award for his contribution to the team, his community and the league. He also was chosen as the Rothman's Outstanding Lineman on three occasions and was also nominated for the Schenley Awards three times. More recently, Waszczuk was selected to the all-time Hamilton Tiger Cat "Dream Team".
Throughout his 10-year career, Waszczuk taught high school with the Hamilton Board of Education where he served as a Science Department Head.
After his retirement from the CFL in 1985, Waszczuk co-founded Canadian Sportfishing, a multi-media company. Henry co-hosted and was Executive Producer of various TV shows including Extreme Fishing, Sportfishing Adventures and the Canadian Sportfishing TV show, which aired for 14 years (1986–1999)(Show is still running). He is now host of two new TV shows, Fins & Skins Classic Adventures and Fishing the Flats TV. Waszczuk has produced and hosted over 1000 TV shows and is entering his 24th season on air. He is also publisher of Fins & Skins Travel Magazine and has co-authored eight sportfishing books.
Inducted into the Oshawa Hall of Fame in May 1989; pioneered catch and release techniques used by many anglers today; involved in many charities now and during both his professional football and fishing careers; has been acknowledged by his peers and business friends in which he has been given awards for his contribution to each community he has lived in.
From his college football days and professional career, there have been many great stories and many that relate to his fishing adventures as well. He is a much-sought-after guest speaker for various corporate and sports functions.
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The term “Renaissance man” is heard a lot, but Paul Anderson, who died suddenly the night of March 23, certainly ranks among them. An artist, architect, educator, curator and composer, he restored historic LDS buildings; sang in the Utah Symphony Chorus for years; has several songs in the current LDS hymnal; was well traveled (just recently returned from a lengthy trip with his son to Spain and France); and spoke Japanese and French fluently. He retired in 2015 after more than 21 years at the BYU Museum of Art, planning to devote his newly found leisure to painting.
Neighbor and artist Marcee Blackerby says:
Who knew that across the street lived a man for all seasons. Here comes Paul. He is carrying another painting, and his feet barely touch the ground. He recently gave himself the gift of time. Time to put his brush to canvas. Time to expand on the rich Cubist tendency his artwork has taken lately. Time to share his artistic talents. He beams, childlike. His work was juried into the Springville Art Museum. ”They like it!” he says. Who wouldn’t? There is an empty place on Roberta Street where the sun went down.
Born June 6, 1946, in Pasadena, Calif., Anderson grew up just blocks from the Rose Parade route and rarely missed that New Year’s Day event. He attended Stanford University from 1964-68, graduating with honors in architecture. He served an LDS mission in southern Japan from 1968-70 (and made a return trip there just a few years ago, still speaking the language effortlessly).
Anderson attended Princeton University and earned his master’s of architecture there in 1972. He was licensed in California and worked at Pasadena Design Associates for several years before moving to Utah where his career took an unexpected turn when he went to work for the Church History Department. He previously had spent a summer fellowship on Mormon architecture following graduate school under noted Church Historian Leonard J. Arrington.
It was during that summer in Utah that he met his future wife, Lavina Fielding, an associate editor of the Ensignmagazine. They settled on Roberta Street in Salt Lake City and lived there ever after in a remarkable old home. She became a well-known Mormon writer, intellectual and feminist. The couple has continued to attend their ward together for the nearly 25 years since her controversial excommunication. They have one married son, Christian, a marine biologist.
After he collaborated on the plans for building it, Anderson spent seven years as senior exhibits designer at the Museum of Church History and Art and also restored historic LDS buildings around the world. He always kept his architecture credentials current and worked on designing and remodeling homes on the side. He moved to BYU, where he helped plan the Museum of Art and served first as Head of Design and then as Curator of Southwestern Art, while also teaching undergraduate courses and honors seminars.
He told Dave Gagon at the Deseret News in 2004 that his goal was to make certain the MOA merged design and education well. “You try to make a beautiful setting for art and artifacts, but you also try to make them mean something, make them understandable to people, dramatic and fun to see.”
It was Anderson’s decision, in the majestic China exhibition (Imperial Tombs of China, 1995-96”), to take the single first-century bronze horse that he loved, thought “it could have been a Picasso,” and move it away from other items in the show, placing it in the center of the room in a display case by itself so people could really see it. To this day, I remember that horse.
He twice served as president of the Mormon History Association. Still in manuscript form (and hoping for publication) is his book, “Mormon Moderne: Latter-day Saint Architecture 1925-1945.” This was also a very popular exhibit at BYU MOA.
Though he sketched all his life, Anderson developed his talent as an oil painter after retirement, through classes each semester at Salt Lake Community College. In just over two years he produced 114 paintings, many created from sketches reflecting his interest in international architecture during his travels. These oils were distributed to friends gathered at his funeral through sign-up sheets. Not one was left behind.
A graduate of the University of Utah, Ann Poore is a freelance writer and editor who spent most of her career at The Salt Lake Tribune. She also worked for Salt Lake City Weekly and has written for such publications as Utah Business Magazine and Salt Lake Magazine.
Categories: In Memoriam
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When I finished writing the first part of ‘The Tenant of Wildfell Hall‘ blog I wrote a very different opening for the second part. I had a clear place to start. That changed. It has been a long time since I have struggled to finish a book as much as I have struggled to finish ‘Tenant‘. In fact the only one I can think of where I persevered to the end, with the feeling that “it’s a classic, I really should find out how it ends”, was Jane Austen’s ‘Emma‘.
As with ‘Emma‘, I have found the lack of a physical location difficult. Not place names, the actual places. I know for instance that Linden-Carr and Wildfell Hall are associated with a village or possibly a small town, but there is not even a hint of what this place may be like, other than gossipy. I have found it really hard to build a world around these characters. Like any reader, I don’t want to read a book that does all the thinking, or builds a world in minute detail but I would like a little atmosphere.
I have also found it hard to find a character that I can really latch on to, really care about and empathise with, and believe me, I looked really hard. It was never going to be Gilbert Markham. He may be the narrator of the story through this letters, but it is not his story, it is Helen’s story. Rather like Mr Lockwood in ‘Wuthering Heights‘ he is there, ever present as the voice, and he is mor involved in the proceedings that Mr Lockwood, but he is more an observer of Helen’s tale. We do see much more of Gilbert than we ever do of Lockwood, but the details that are given away are not appealing. As I previously said, he comes across as a petulant child, wanting what he can’t have. It could have been Mr Lawrence; he came close, but he remains very much on the sidelines throughout the book despite his pivotal role in the relocating of his sister to Wildfell Hall.
I really wanted to like Helen. I felt for her; she married a man knowing little about him, and regretted her decision once she realised the error of her ways. She did not run, she stayed until she felt that her child was in danger of being dragged into the darks ways of his father. Even then she did not run, she maintained her dignity and decorum, she planned, she prepared and then she walked away. She is thoughtful, she does not want to bring shame to anyone, she does not want to cause a scandal and does not leave until she knows that he has no choice. Despite this, I am still not her biggest fan. She seems cold, distant and moralistic. I know that giving nothing away is what helped her in maintaining her new life, but she comes across as cold. Lucy Snow in ‘Villette‘ is cold, icily so on occasion, but she is human and she has flaws which she is honest about. Helen is aware of her mistakes, but is also keen to point out the mistakes in others; it is not possible to escape her judgemental outlook.
It has taken me a long time to read ‘The Tenant of Wildfell Hall’ and even longer to process my thoughts afterwards. I am genuinely gutted that I didn’t enjoy the story more, but having said that I am glad that I finally made the time and read the book. I have learned so much more about Anne than I ever would have done by just reading books about her. She wrote ‘Tenant‘ as a warning. A warning to whom I am still not sure. Is it a warning to young men who fall in to a path waylaid with temptation and allow themselves to be seduced?A warning to young ladies who pay heed to their hearts and rush headlong into a marriage despite the advise of those who perhaps see things from a differing perspective? Or, is it actually a reminder that there is always a chance to repent, reform and be saved? As a child, when asked by her father, what a child like her most wanted she replied “Age and experience“. I believe that in writing ‘Tenant‘, Anne has found a way to share her “age and experience” with her readers; her experience of living with an alcoholic and drug-addled brother; her experience as a governess of watching from the sidelines, witnessing clandestine relationships, marriages that should never have happened, children suffering as a result.
I love that this book is such a clear window to Anne’s soul. In complete contrast to Aunt Reed in Charlotte’s ‘Jane Eyre’, Helen’s aunt is caring and sympathetic, she wants to guide her neice toward a marriage that could make her happy and street her away from Mr Huntingdon. Helen respects her and wants to gain her approval. I would like to hope that this is similar to the relationship that Anne had with her own aunt, Elizabeth Branwell, who came to Haworth to look after the young Brontë’s after the death of her own sister, Maria. Anne was scarcely a year old when her mother died, so Elizabeth took her place and became the only mother figure that Anne could remember. It was Elizabeth Branwell who shared a room with her tiny niece, and taught both her and Branwell Brontë whilst the other four children attended the school at Cowan Bridge, and it was Elizabeth who helped Anne to develop her strong religious beliefs; Anne’s belief that those who recognise the errors of their ways and who repent can be reformed and redeemed, whilst those who persist in their downward spiral will never achieve peace and happiness.
I can’t help but see Lady Lowbrough as being somehow based upon Lydia Robinson, Anne’s employer at Thorpe Green and the object of Branwells most ardent affections. In ‘Tenant‘ Lady Lowbrough is a relentless temptress, selfish, and destructive with loose morals; to Anne, Lydia must have represented far worse. She was the final push in Branwells descent, she abused her position, broke his heart, and watched him fall over the precipice that he had been teetering on. I wonder if Lydia shared the fate of Lady Lowbrough?
‘The Tenant of Wildfell Hall‘ may not have been the story I was hoping for, full of brooding heroes, love-sick heroines, and other Brontë-esque cliches, but I have found more of Anne than I could have imagined. It has made her real, she is not the “quiet, pious one”, she had her own ideas, imagination, and beliefs. She was not afraid of challenging convention, letting the world know that women are strong too; for Anne, it is every bit as much a woman’s world as it is a mans.
Bring on 2020, and the start of Anne’s year at the Brontë Parsonage!!
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BOOK ONE: THE COMING OF THE MARTIANS
CHAPTER 15: WHAT HAD HAPPENED IN SURREY
After this it would seem that the three took counsel together and halted, and the scouts who were watching them
report that they remained absolutely stationary for the next
half hour. The Martian who had been overthrown crawled
tediously out of his hood, a small brown figure, oddly suggestive from that distance of a speck of blight, and apparently
engaged in the repair of his support. About nine he had
finished, for his cowl was then seen above the trees again.
It was a few minutes past nine that night when these three
sentinels were joined by four other Martians, each carrying
a thick black tube. A similar tube was handed to each of the
three, and the seven proceeded to distribute themselves at
equal distances along a curved line between St. George's Hill,
Weybridge, and the village of Send, southwest of Ripley.
A dozen rockets sprang out of the hills before them so soon
as they began to move, and warned the waiting batteries
about Ditton and Esher. At the same time four of their
fighting machines, similarly armed with tubes, crossed the
river, and two of them, black against the western sky, came
into sight of myself and the curate as we hurried wearily and
painfully along the road that runs northward out of Halliford.
They moved, as it seemed to us, upon a cloud, for a milky
mist covered the fields and rose to a third of their height.
At this sight the curate cried faintly in his throat, and
began running; but I knew it was no good running from a
Martian, and I turned aside and crawled through dewy nettles
and brambles into the broad ditch by the side of the road.
He looked back, saw what I was doing, and turned to join
The two halted, the nearer to us standing and facing Sunbury, the remoter being a grey indistinctness towards the
evening star, away towards Staines.
The occasional howling of the Martians had ceased; they
took up their positions in the huge crescent about their
cylinders in absolute silence. It was a crescent with twelve
miles between its horns. Never since the devising of gunpowder was the beginning of a battle so still. To us and to
an observer about Ripley it would have had precisely the
same effect--the Martians seemed in solitary possession of
the darkling night, lit only as it was by the slender moon, the
stars, the afterglow of the daylight, and the ruddy glare from
St. George's Hill and the woods of Painshill.
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Lemmy (born Ian Fraser Kilmister on 24 December 1945, also known as Ian Willis, Lemmy Kilmister, and Lemmy von Motörhead), is an English singer and bass guitarist, most famous for being the founding member of the hard rock/speed metal band Motörhead. His appearance, facial moles, mutton chops (sideburn-moustache combination), and gravelly voice, have made him an instantly recognizable cult figure. Lemmy is considered one of the great heavy metal musicians.
Lemmy was born in Burslem, Stoke-on-Trent, England and raised in Anglesey, North Wales. His father, a clergyman, left the family when Lemmy was three months old. Whereas the notes in the Motorhead Videography claim his nickname is meaningless and was acquired from his Welsh friends as a child, the press have reported that it is because he "was always trying to cadge money from family and friends" as in "Lemme a fiver" (misquoted as "Lemme borrow a tenner".
Early years : 1960s
Lemmy spent the 1960s as a guitarist in a number of obscure bands (such as Rainmakers, Motown Sect, Opal Butterfly, Sam Gopal, and The Rockin' Vickers) as well as working as a roadie for Jimi Hendrix in 1967, and also as a roadie for The Nice, where he gave Keith Emerson his trademark knife.
Hawkwind (1971 – 1975)
In 1971, Lemmy joined the space rock band, Hawkwind, who were based in Ladbroke Grove, London. He had little experience as a bass guitarist, but quickly developed a distinctive style that was strongly shaped by his early experience as a rhythm guitarist, often using double stops and chords rather than the single notes preferred by most bassists. Lemmy's bass work was a fundamental part of the Hawkwind sound during his tenure, perhaps best documented on Space Ritual. He also provided lead vocals on a number of songs, including the band's biggest UK chart single, "Silver Machine", which reached No.3 in 1972.
Motörhead (1975 – 2015)
In 1975 Lemmy was fired from Hawkwind after he was arrested at Canadian customs on possession charges; he spent five days in prison. Lemmy went on to form a new band with guitarist Larry Wallis (former member of the Pink Fairies, Steve Took's Shagrat and UFO) and drummer Lucas Fox. Lemmy's connection with Took (formerly of T Rex) was not limited to Wallis, as they were personal friends and Took was the stepfather to Lemmy's son, Paul. This new band was originally called Bastard. When his manager informed him that a band by that name will never get a slot on "Top of the Pops", Lemmy changed the band's name to Motörhead - the title of the last song Lemmy wrote for Hawkwind.
Soon after, both Wallis and Fox were replaced with guitarist "Fast" Eddie Clarke and drummer Phil "Philthy Animal" Taylor, and with this line-up the band began to achieve success. The band's sound appealed to both Lemmy's original heavy metal fans, as well as to fans of the nascent punk rock scene. In fact, Lemmy asserts that he generally feels more kinship with punks than with heavy metal; he even played with The Damned for a handful of gigs when they had no regular bassist — and Lemmy's guttural vocals were unique in the world of rock at that time. The band's success peaked between 1980 and 1981 with a number of UK chart hits, including the classic single "Ace of Spades" (still a crowd favourite today) and the #1 live album No Sleep 'til Hammersmith.
Motörhead have since gone on to become one of the most influential bands in the heavy metal music genre, and although Lemmy is the only constant member, are still performing and releasing records to this day. Despite Motörhead's many member changes over their 30 year history, the current lineup of Lemmy, Phil Campbell and Mikkey Dee has remained constant since 1995.
Lemmy has also worked with a number of other musicians over his career, and occasionally guests with Hawkwind. He was brought in as a songwriter for Ozzy Osbourne's 1991 No More Tears album, providing lyrics for the tracks "Hellraiser", (which Motörhead later released on their "Hellraiser" single) "Desire", "I Don't Want to Change the World", and the massive hit "Mama I'm Coming Home". Lemmy has noted in several magazine and television interviews that he made more money from the royalties of that one song than he had in his entire time with Motörhead. Lemmy published his autobiography, White Line Fever in November 2002.
In 2005, Motörhead won their first Grammy, beating out such modern contemporaries like Slipknot, Killswitch Engage, Hatebreed, and Cradle of Filth, in the Best Metal Performance category with their cover of Metallica's "Whiplash".
Film and television career
Lemmy has made a number of appearances in film and television, including the 1990 science fiction film Hardware and the 1987 comedy Eat the Rich, for which Motörhead also recorded the soundtracks. In the 1994 comedy Airheads (in which he is credited as "Lemmy von Motörhead"). One scene involving Brendan Fraser, Adam Sandler, and Steve Buscemi, has Brendan Fraser's character, "Chazz" Chester Darvey talking to an undercover cop who is pretending to be a record executive — Chazz asks him, "Who'd win in a wrestling match, Lemmy or God?", the cop replies, "Lemmy", to which Rex, played by Steve Buscemi, imitates a game show buzzer and the cop quickly changes his answer to "... God!". Rex replies saying, "Wrong, dickhead, trick question. Lemmy is God". Lemmy appears in the film and shouts out (truthfully) that he edited his school newspaper as other people in the crowd admit geeky pastimes in their youth. Lemmy has also appeared in several movies from the Troma studio.
Having a predilection for self-deprecating parody, he once appeared in an advertisement for Kit Kat chocolate bars, miming a piece of chamber music on the violin, in an upper-class tea-room. Lemmy also appeared on an intro scene on The Drew Carey Show in which Motörhead plays outside Drew's home, startling him awake. Lemmy is one of very few musicians to have been mentioned on Beavis and Butt-Head who was not made fun of. Upon seeing him appear in a video for a group that was not Motörhead, Butthead exclaims, "He's Lemmy. He can be in any damn video he wants to!".
Motörhead performed the entrance theme song "The Game" for World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE)'s Triple H (who at one point wore his mustache and sideburns like Lemmy as a tribute), as well as "Line in the Sand" for Triple H's now defunct wrestling stable, Evolution. In 2006, they once again provided theme music for WWE as they recorded the song "King of Kings" for Triple H on the Wreckless Intent CD.
During Lemmy's time with Hawkwind, he developed an appetite for speed and acid and was to become renowned for his use of speed. Before joining Hawkwind, Lemmy recalled Dik Mik, a former Hawkwind sound technician, visiting his squat in the middle of the night and taking speed with him. They became interested in how long "you could make the human body jump about without stopping", which they did for a few months, until Mik ran out of money and wanted to return to Hawkwind, taking Lemmy with him.
Lemmy collects Nazi memorabilia, and has an Iron Cross encrusted on his bass, which has led to accusations of right-wing extremist tendencies; however, Lemmy considers himself an anarchist, saying that "government causes more problems than it solves" and that he is "anti-communism, fascism, any extreme." According to Keith Emerson as written in his autobiography, two of Lemmy's Hitlerjugend knives were gifted to Keith Emerson himself during Lemmy's time spent as a roadie for The Nice. Emerson used these knives many times as "keyholders" during his famous wrestling sessions with the Hammond Organ during the shows with The Nice and Emerson, Lake & Palmer.
Later years and death
From 1990 Lemmy lived in Los Angeles, California, most recently in a two-room apartment two blocks away from his favourite hangout, the Rainbow Bar and Grill.
As he grew older he used less alcohol and drugs as he suffered from diabetes and hypertension. In 2013 he had an implantable cardioverter-defibrillator fitted. He referred to his continuing drug use as "Dogged insolence in the face of mounting opposition to the contrary".
On 28 December 2015, four days after his 70th birthday, Lemmy died at his home in Los Angeles at 16:00 PST, from an "extremely aggressive cancer". Motörhead announced his death on their official Facebook page later that day. According to the band, his cancer had only been diagnosed two days prior to his death.
His manager, Todd Singerman, later revealed this :
He (Lemmy) gets home (from tour), we have a big birthday party for him at the Whisky A Go Go. His friends came down and played. Two days later I could tell he wasn't feeling good so we took him to the hospital, they release him, then after the brain scan they found the cancer in his brain and his neck.
The doctor comes with the result a couple of days later and says... it's terminal.
Lemmy's doctor had given him between two and six months to live. Although his manager had planned to keep the news private until his eventual death, Lemmy strongly encouraged him to make the diagnosis public in early 2016, but he died before a press release could be drafted. Following the terminal diagnosis, Rainbow Bar owner Mikael Maglieri brought a video game machine that Lemmy was fond of playing at the establishment over to his apartment so he could continue playing it from his bedside.
Lemmy's memorial service took place at Forest Lawn Memorial Park, Hollywood on 9 January 2016. The service was streamed live over YouTube with more than 230,000 people logging on to watch.
An autopsy was performed, and the causes of death were shown to be prostate cancer, cardiac arrhythmia, and congestive heart failure.
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Just posted a new song!
Check out the first in a series of videos I’m doing about getting into Jewish prayer!
In this one, we explore the first blessing of the Amidah, the central part of the prayer service. It focuses on our connection with our ancestors, how we benefit from their acts of loving kindness, and how our own acts of loving kindness translate into redemption for our descendants!
I should have felt resentful toward the Hebrews, for whose sake the curses of their God had befallen my people, but in fact all I felt that night as I lay in my bed waiting to die was an immense sense of relief. I remember thinking, My life is about to be over. After tonight, I will never have to lie to anyone about who I am again. Perhaps that in itself is a kind of mercy.
When I awoke the next morning, I was filled with confusion. At first I thought it hadn’t happened, that the Pharaoh had defeated the Hebrews’ God after all. I felt a pang of sympathy for the Hebrew slaves. Ah well, I thought, it just shows that it is better not to hope, not even for release. But then I heard the wailing from outside, a cry of anguish rising up from the houses of my town such as I had never heard, and a kind of wonder crept over me, for I knew that it had happened after all. But why had I of all the firstborn sons of Egypt been spared?
I went to see their prophetess. I found her with a group of other women, face and arms covered with flour, hurriedly mixing dough in preparation for their departure.
“That will never have time to rise,” I observed.
She didn’t even look up, focused on her work. “We’ll make do. Now what is it you wanted? Better make it quick — as you can see, we’re in kind of a hurry.”
Haltingly, uncomfortably aware of the eyes of the women upon me, I told her who I was and put my question to her: “Why was I, of all the firstborn sons of Egypt, spared?”
Now she did look up, when her eyes met mine they crinkled up and she laughed. My heart went cold — somehow this daughter of slaves knew what I had never uttered to a living soul.
“Do you think anything is hidden from the eyes of God?” she said. “The firstborn son of your house is dead, but you were spared. If you ask me, I think you’ll be better off without him. Now come along and help me with this bread.”
Still smiling, I got down on my knees alongside the other women of Israel and began to knead.
The boy next door was about my own age. It’s funny, but I can’t seem to remember what his name was anymore. When we were small he would show up at our door every morning, politely asking if I would come out to play. I always did. His parents were Egyptian and mine were Hebrew, my parents slaves and his free, but that didn’t seem to matter… that is, until my brother Chayim was born. Nowadays when a woman gives birth to a son it’s a cause for celebration, but back then the prayer on every pregnant woman’s lips was that God would give her a daughter. We daughters, you see, were allowed to live. The Pharaoh’s men came for my brother Chayim on the day of his brit milah. After Chayim was taken, whenever the boy from next door came to ask for me I would hide and pretend I wasn’t there. I could no longer bring myself to play with a child of the people who had stolen my brother from me.
Then the man of God came. We watched as plague after plague rained down upon the Egyptians, and in my heart I was glad, for the sake of my brother who was never allowed to live. But after the darkness departed and the Pharaoh still refused to let us go free, the word reached us that God was planning to visit one more plague upon the Egyptians — the death of every firstborn male. Standing outside our house, watching my father as he painted the doorposts with blood to ward away the angel of death, I looked over at the house next door, and saw the boy I used to play with looking back at me through the window. From the look on his face I could tell he knew well what was in store for him. All at once the memory of our time spent playing in the courtyard came flooding back, and I knew what I had to do. I talked with my mother and father, and they talked with his mother and father. That night, when we celebrated the Passover feast, there was one more sitting at our table than there had been the night before. And when we departed Egypt the next day, my brother Chayim went with us.
The Hebrews came to our doors in the early morning on the day when they were to leave us, asking to borrow our fine clothes, our vessels of gold and silver, to be used for the festival of their God. We knew it was a lie, of course — the part about borrowing. And they knew we knew. And yet we gave willingly. Why?
I knew the woman who showed up at my door. She was much older now, her back bent with toil, face lined with years of hardship, but still I remembered her as she had been on that day long ago when the Pharaoh’s men shoved her roughly out of the very same door I was standing in now. “Egypt for Egyptians,” is what they called it, but the thing I remember most was the look on her face as she was cast out from the home she and her family had lived in for generations to make way for another family — my family. At first we felt guilty, of course, but what could we do? It was the Pharaoh’s will. And then over the course of the years the house began to feel less like someone else’s home and more like our own, and we thought less and less of the Hebrews whose hands had built these walls. Now, standing in the doorway of my home, with my son’s body growing cold in his cot in the kitchen and my husband’s in the bed in the back room, I looked upon the face of the Hebrew woman and remembered.
“Go,” I said as I handed her the vessels, among them items that had been left by her family when they were forced to leave in haste all those years ago. “And ask for your God to bless me also, for my heart is broken into pieces.”
“Ask Him yourself,” she said, not unkindly. “It is said that He is close to the broken-hearted.”
When the Hebrews marched out later that day, I followed them. I did not look back, nor did I bother to shut the door of the house my family had borrowed for a time.
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