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Eugene Jackson Jones, Jr. was born on March 8, 1944 in Cleveland, Tennessee. He was the youngest son of Eugene and Tressie Jones. The family raised him in the Methodist faith, and he was baptized at a young age. Growing up, Gene was involved in boxing and swimming.
To send flowers in memory of Eugene Jackson "Gene" JONES Jr., please visit our Heartfelt Sympathies Store.
Gene enlisted in the U.S. Army in 1974 at the age of 30. After completing Basic Training, Gene was assigned to Camp Carroll in South Korea as a Communication Specialist. While stationed there in 1975, he met and married Chong Son, who was his wife for 43 years. They were reassigned to Fort Carson in October, 1976. After suffering a heart attack, he was medically retired from his military service in July, 1977. In August of that same year, he joined the U.S. Air Force Academy as a Vehicle Specialist, and served in the field of Transportation for 24 years, until his retirement in 2002.
After retirement, Gene and Chong enjoyed traveling throughout the United States in their RV and with their motorcycle.
Gene was a family man with an outgoing and friendly personality. He was kind and generous, and always willing to help others in any way he could. He was a true and faithful friend to many, and was loved and respected by those who knew him.
He was an active member of the Free Masons, Fountain Valley Lodge #191 since 1988, and was a Master in 1993.
Gene passed away peacefully at his home in Colorado Springs on Christmas Day, December 25, 2018, with his beloved wife and friends at his side.
He is survived by his wife, Chong; his older brother, Jesse Jones; his only daughter, Eugenia Beavers of Chatsworth, Georgia, along with two grandchildren, April and Wesley and two great-grandchildren.
A visitation will be held on Friday, January 4, 2019 at Evergreen Funeral Home from 9:00 – 10:00 a.m., followed by a funeral service at 10:00 a.m. Burial will be at 1:00 p.m. at Cedar Hill Cemetery, 880 E. Wolfensberger Road, Castle Rock, Colorado 80109.
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Tobin Klusty will graduate from DePaul University College of Law in May 2017. Sitting down with E-Pulse, Tobin provided insight into his passion for litigation, described his academic and professional experiences, and shared practical advice for current and future students to succeed in law school.
Tobin, originally from Detroit, Michigan, chose DePaul College of Law for the diverse network that the law school provides throughout Chicago. He saw a great opportunity in his future law career from the reputation that DePaul College of Law is known for. Tobin originally decided to follow the path in the Health Law field after working for the Democratic Floor Leader in Michigan’s House of Representatives, and realizing the importance of health policy on people in the community. Once in law school, he joined the Jaharis Health Law Institute, which pointed him in the right direction for a long-term law career.
With the help of the Jaharis Health Law Institute, Tobin was able to land numerous notable jobs throughout his time in law school that lead his career focus to a field he is truly passionate about. After working for Miroballi, Durkin & Rudin, a medical malpractice firm in the City, Tobin found a love for litigation. He then switched paths and began a job at the Public Defender’s Office working for the Homicide Task Force. Tobin’s responsibilities with the Homicide Task Force has developed to not only being able to investigate and research cases, but also being able to actively litigate on murder trials.
As a member of the Jaharis Health Law Institute, Tobin was able to gain great writing experience and management skills through being the Authorities Editor for the Journal of Health Care Law. Tobin’s professional experiences have shaped his advice for future and current law students. He recommends working hard and striving towards a career path that is most rewarding for yourself. Once you find your passion in the law, work to gain as much hands-on experience as you can. Tobin encourages students to take practical classes that will further your career path. One of his favorite experiences at DePaul College of Law was being on the Mock Trial team. He believes it truly taught him how to become a litigator and has given him an upper hand in the court room.
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An interesting and detailed map of the states from A.A. Grant’s atlas of 1886, designed to be useful for businesses, especially with reference to railroads. The 1870s and 80s was a time of intense railroad building in the country and around the world, so there was a demand for handy maps showing what lines existed. George F. Cram, of Chicago, began his business publishing railroad maps, then produced his Standard American Atlas in 1875 and 1879 focusing on railroad information. In the early 1880s he reissued a number of his railroad maps and these were in turn purchased by Grant for his atlas in 1886. This particular map, however, states it was “Engraved for Grant’s Business Atlas.” The maps in Grant’s atlas are clear and provide useful information of all sorts. Each railroad line is indicated with initials to identify it. The counties are outlined in yellow and towns and cities noted throughout.
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Helplessness was an understatement for the current predicament he found himself in. He also felt powerless, useless and reckless. The past forty eight hours had been a blur, with waves of objects, humans and trees intermingling with each other like couples, going in and out of his eye’s frame of reference, refusing to let his mind lie down, and take a moment of breath and step back to review his life, to introspect how he had found himself on this particular frame of mind, his entire existence geared towards stimulating his biochemical system through heavy doses, whilst consuming sweetened substances in one loop after another, to the point of abuse and ecstasy in equal measure, at the expense of work and the meaning of his life’s existence, sucking out his will to think by dulling all his senses.
He felt like he was functioning on auto pilot mode. That he couldn’t think.
As far as he was concerned, at this point in time, his days of abuse were over. For how long could be continue to nip the bud of talent that was always seemingly awaiting its moment of growth, for all these years? He was seriously concerned with himself. He couldn’t even understand himself. He wanted to shout, scream and let it all out, and he did, collapsing on his mattress like a rag doll without consciousness or intelligence, content to lie down and watch the world near by progress on to new things and responsibilities while he remained behind, glaring at the magnanimity of it all, being powered forward under the tutelage of the knowledge economy, to which he had outlived his usefulness, since his will no longer seemed to keep with up the image that he dreamt of himself to become, in the vestiges of his mind, never seeing the light of day, confined to abandonment, like he had been doing so for the past years, like a timid, good-hearted loser.
Starr had been right all along.
“You mental wreck. Don’t contact me ever again. Get yourself healed, lest you turn mad. You need a psychiatrist”, she had said before walking away from his life into the distant night, without an iota of care for the shared memories that had transpired between them for the past six months, a time of his life he would always cherish, because he had received love.
He felt a strong urge to run away to another city the moment his next pay check arrived, without telling anyone, and start afresh. He had googled his feelings. He wasn’t impressed by the quality of the information. His predicament was something deeper, residing on the same plane trajectory as sex, drugs and other pleasures, that wantonly seemed to be calling out to him, from inside his mind, enticing him, cajoling him to elevate his senses further, and run himself to the ground like a mad dog lusting for his bone.
That’s what he wanted to do. He wanted to do nothing, and just…stay there.
Live for what purpose? Good food and drink, at the best places ambience wise? Yes, totally. A life full of sex and drugs? Yes, totally. The best apparel that could be bought. enhancing his image and social status? Yes, totally. The best of the best? Yes, totally.
Then, he better wake the fuck up, shut out the part of his mind that wanted to do precisely nothing and start altering his mental states to focus on things by looking at them like technical problems. Dates? A technical problem. Work? A technical problem. Food? A technical problem. Clothes? A technical problem.
The above image breaks down the technical problem of dating into a few simple and repeatable steps that can be followed by anyone, anywhere, with slight alterations basis an individual’s personality type and choice.
He decided to implement this going forwards for his life.
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KYTHREA: A brief historical account
Kythrea is located about 12 km northeast of Nicosia, at the southern outskirts of the Pentadaktylos mountain range, and at the northern border of the Mesaoria plain. The Municipality of Kythrea was founded in 1915, with Nicolaos Kattamis as its first mayor. Its extensive municipal boundaries include six parishes: that of Chrysida, Agia Marina, Agios Andronikos, Agios Georgios, Chardakiotissa and Syrkania. In 1974, the Greek Cypriot population of Kythrea was estimated at about 4,500. The town even had three elementary schools, as well as one high school. The town hall was located at the borders of the Agios Andronikos and Agios Georgios parishes. At present, the temporary offices of the Municipality of Kythrea are to be found within the Nicosia walls, near the Famagusta Gate.
The town was well known for the magnificent Kefalovrysos, the largest spring water source in Cyprus, which flowed out of the northern parish of Syrkania. Since the period of the Venetian occupation, the Kefalovrysos water, which originated from the Pentadaktylos aquifer, powered 32 watermills, as well as irrigated the fields of Kythrea and the crops of the surrounding area. During antiquity, and up to the Middle Ages, it also supplied Salamis, which was once the capital of Cyprus, with water.
Since 1974, the churches of Kythrea have been systematically vandalised and destroyed. The two churches of the upper parishes, Syrkania and Chardakiotissa, were respectively dedicated to Agia Anna and the Virgin Mary (Panagia). The church of the Virgin Mary, which was the largest in the town, has now been turned into a mosque. In the southern parish of Chrysida, the church of the Holy Cross has become a handicraft workshop, while the chapel of Apostle Loukas is dilapidated. Agia Marina, located in the homonymous parish, is used for dance classes, while the monastery of the Virgin Mary (Theotokou) in the homonymous district (part of the Agia Marina parish) is in a military zone. The church of Agios Georgios in the homonymous district is also in a military zone, and it has been turned into a munitions depot. Finally, the church of Agios Andronikos and Agia Athanasia in the parish of Agios Andronikos has suffered inestimable destruction, as the roof has collapsed and the interior is at the mercy of the varying weather conditions. Projects that aim to salvage the damage are now being planned by the bi-communal Technical Committee on Cultural Heritage, as a result of the Kythrea Municipality’s intense efforts. Kythrea also has several other chapels.
Kythrea was inhabited since the Neolithic period, around 4,000 BC. Chytroi is referred to in the 7th century BC as one of the ten ancient kingdoms of Cyprus, while it seems that the city experienced great prosperity during the Hellenistic and Roman period, with inscriptions testifying to the existence of a gymnasium. The 2.08 metre statue of the Roman emperor Septimius Severus, which is currently in the Cyprus Museum, was discovered in the Agios Demetrianos area in 1928 and is the largest bronze statue that has been found on the island. It is also important that the aqueduct, which carried water from Chytroi to Salamis, is dated from the Roman period.
During the Byzantine period, Kythrea became the bishopric of Chytroi. The greatest religious figure of the time was Agios Demetrianos, the Bishop of Chytroi, who managed to repatriate his congregants after being held captive in Baghdad by the Arabs in the 10th century. It is for this reason that he is considered the Holy Guardian of Refugees. Following the Arab raids, the city was built west of its original position, along the flow of the Kefalovrysos water in the valley.
In earlier times, Kythrea was renowned for its production of silk, its weaving and woodcarving, as well as its flour milling industry. It was also known for its cultivation of citrus fruits and its limestone production, as it was surrounded by quarries and limestone manufacturing areas. The town was justly reputed to be a “daskalomana” (mother of teaching), as many intellectuals and educators were born there, as well as doctors, lawyers and other scientists.
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Sold a copy of this print on canvas today. I painted the original from a sketch I did on a scrap of paper I had in my purse. We were at a concert of the Grand Junction Symphony. I did the painting as a demonstration of how to use a sketch at a workshop for kids at the Western Colorado Center for the Arts. The style is spontaneous and expressive. Though painted just a few years ago, it represents a return to my early figurative expressionist style. Paintings in this style were shown and sold in California under the name Gene Armstrong from Holly Wood’s (not kidding) gallery in Montecito and elsewhere. I often worked from small sketches. I enjoyed sketching people at produce markets, the beach, Stearn’s Wharf in Santa Barbara, the charming Miramar Hotel in Montecito, and on bus stops. Those paintings were done before I spent years in life drawing groups, so recent expressionist figurative works like this one are different.
In the nineties, I painted many figurative works. Some of them were done at the Barnsdall Art Center in Hollywood. Others were done in private groups. This was one of my favorite models. He was a retired dancer who had been featured on the cover of Dance Magazine. He was very gifted and had a wonderful flair for costume and set design. I painted his setup at another artist’s studio in a day-long shared model session. There are two paintings in the set. Each is about 30″ x 30″. They were done in acrylic on canvas, and I had a wonderful time!
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I once had a dream in High School. Jesus was in the form of a cloud sweeping over the earth. Picking up the select for the rapture. I raised my hand and was being raised, then when my relief was gone I could not continue, I was let gently back down. In my heart I was willing to give up my spot for someone so wicked on this earth that they did not want Jesus. My spot was willingly given to someone who refused to be saved and I did not understand. If all that were chosen were willing to stay to help the lost, that is what I felt was my calling. A feeble mind will pray for the rapture to come sooner than later for they do not understand the souls at stake and lack compassion. The passion of the Christ is the willing select ready to give up what is promised to them for the evil of the evils of this earth and in doing so rid the earth of the most wicked so that others may have a chance at receiving grace and love that is Jesus. When a soul is lost all of the heavens weep, when a soul is found, all of the heavens rejoice. So let us rejoice and be glad in Him. Hope will never be lost.
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In the time just before the great Age of Prosperity was the reign of the wicked Queen Cersei.
Queen Cersei had not been born to be queen, but she believed it was her destiny to become one; when she was but a girl, she stumbled upon Maggy, the hedge witch seer, who told her as much. When the Good Queen Catelyn passed away, tragically, and left behind her grieving widower, King Eddard, Cersei saw her chance. She made herself seen and known in the capitol, masking her cold heart and scheming mind behind a lovely smile. Tales of her beauty and courteousness spread until the king made her acquaintance, and soon determined she would be an appropriate consort, for the realm desperately desired a queen. Not only that, but his young daughter needed a mother.
The daughter was a wrinkle in Cersei’s plans. Cersei would have loved her own children if she ever had them, but this girl was not her daughter. At only ten years of age, she clearly possessed the King’s heart more strongly than Cersei did, but there was also the witch’s prophecy to contend with. She had told Cersei she would become queen, yes, but also that when she thought herself invincible there would come a younger queen, more beautiful even than Cersei herself, to cast her down and take her throne. As the King’s daughter, Sansa, grew, her beauty blossomed in both body and soul, which caused Cersei greater and greater worry.
In the winter of Cersei’s eighth year as queen, King Eddard was taken unexpectedly ill. The royal physicians had not seen it coming, but now that he had taken to his bed, they feared he would never leave it. The queen began to worry—not for her husband’s health, but for her own position. If the king were to die, that perfect daughter of his would rise to become queen. She would occupy the throne upon which Cersei had worked so hard to sit! And this, Cersei decided, simply would not do.
With the king on his deathbed, Queen Cersei forged his signature and cast out all his loyal advisors. When she brought in her trusted cronies, she sent out an order: the eighteen-year-old Princess Sansa would be arrested, for poisoning her own father to gain his throne before her time, and locked in a tall tower in the Wolfswood in the far reaches of the country. With no one to oppose her, Cersei’s wishes were carried out, the good and kind princess was removed from the capitol and rumored to be dead, and the king passed away in his sleep, leaving no one to the throne but Queen Cersei, first of her name.
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G2 ~ B5 (3 octaves and 2 notes)
Eb3/E3 ~ G4/G#4
- Best developed mixed register amongst SHINee members (2012 ~ 2014)
- Most consistent resonance and placement amongst SHINee members (2012 ~ 2014)
- Able to keep a stable larynx and support up to G4/G#4 consistently
- Achieved resonance very consistently up to A4 with a few Bb4’s and B4’s (2012 ~ 2014)
- Good pitch and control of his instrument
- Considerable vocal improvement amongst many idols, easily noticeable
- Able to mix up to C#5/D5
- Doesn’t try to do things he can’t with his voice musically i.e. messy runs and strained upper notes
- He has the tendency to stay in a midlow to mid-high range, usually not only supporting his supported range, but singing songs that won’t go below/above that range.
Points for Improvement
- Loses consistency above Bb4/B4 and tends to strain notes above that
- Considerably underdeveloped registers, only able to keep column of sound in his mix
- Although resonant, his voice still lacks color and fullness
- Occasional pitch issues with vocal runs mostly and falsetto
- Notes below E3/Eb3 tend to be too quiet, breathy and weakly supported
- Can occasionally push and squeeze some higher notes, not allowing throat to be fully open
- Weak falsetto, not very good at switching and undeveloped in that register
- Lacks creativity and musicality/musicianship in his vocal delivery
- Lower register: Very underdeveloped as a register, anything below E3 can sound weakly supported, quiet, breathy and very hard to hear and understand.
- Mixed register: Very consistent in his mix, able to keep good column of sound and resonance up to Bb4/B4 occasionally and consistently up to A4. Tends to have a stable larynx and a relaxed throat, with good projection. At times may push and squeeze the vocal cords together. (2012 ~ 2014) Shown a decline in technique from 2015 to present.
- Upper register: Very underdeveloped, barely ever even explores that register and when done, even in studio, it can sound weak and sloppy or very pushed, like his B5 and Bb5 which were squeezed and pushed with a lot of air to get through.
Although having a very light voice, Taemin does not really show any vocal styling apart from a generic straight singing ability. He does not tend to use ornamentation to embellish his songs at all. Occasionally he is able to show vocal runs, in a very high range keeping resonance but not very quickly at all.
Taemin possesses a very light and almost small voice. He’s a great example of a light tenor with a very bright youthful sound, a newly added member to the vocalist line in SHINee. He is a very good example of a hard working idol with a huge ability to prove and show improvement. Throughout the years he started out as a sub-vocalist member of SHINee, mainly concentrating on his dancing rather than singing. Throughout the years he’s learned to control his voice in an amazing manner, very impressive considering how he sounded when SHINee first debuted.
Taemin used to have a very small voice, very weakly supported, easily straining and getting a nasal sound, due to the squeezing of his swallowing muscles and his larynx raising. Back in 2010 that was the case, even on notes as low as G4 and F#4 , which might be the beginning of a more challenging range for a tenor, are not very high notes in his voice. Throughout the years he’s learned to support his voice, control his pitch and larynx position and keep a better column of sound and resonance. Impressively he’s been promoted in SHINee songs taking a lot of upper belts and big notes.
However so, Taemin’s weakness lies in the lack of amount of work he’s put into fully developing his voice overall throughout every register. Amongst SHINee members, he possesses the weakest and least supported lower register. Very weak projection and lacking greatly in color and sound. He takes full advantage, however, of the fact that his mixed register is a much better developed register and generally stays in a safe zone between E3 and A4 for every single song he performs, generally on Immortal Song 2. His lower register still lacks any true color and support anywhere below E3 and Eb3, sounding rather half-spoken and shallow.
Taemin’s mixed register is exactly where his voice shines, however. Impressively able to keep resonance consistently up to A4 and being able to effortlessly sing through high passages, he’s learned to truly use his mixed voice to its best ability through the years. He is able to stay resonant even at times on Bb4’s and B4’s, live and studio. He’s a smart vocalist in that department, able to fully grasp the use of belting and mix correctly according to his voice type as a tenor.
Although his improvement from being a vocalist with completely shallow to almost no support at all to being a vocalist with clean support and consistent resonance was one of the biggest jumps in technique for K-pop idols, there were still some issues to address. Most of his improvement happened in between 2010 and 2012. Comparing his G#4’s from “사랑해 ” in 2010 to his G#4’s in “잠깐만” in 2014, one can hear the change in his openness, support and placement. Going from very throaty and tense to a very clean and opened sound was one of the biggest improvements for any vocalist.
However since he’s always had issues with a slightly closed diction and oftentimes inconsistencies with openness, not addressing these issues got the best of him and caused a slight vocal decline over time. He’s stayed more or less stagnant, but from 2015 to the present, he’s shown more issues with openness and has become tighter in his throat when singing notes as high as A4 or higher. Although to an extent, there was always a certain degree of pushing when belting higher, he was able to keep a more or less opened sound with just enough support during his highest peak period in technique. In “몰라” and “잘못된 만남,” his sound is somewhat pushed on the G#4’s and higher belts, but enough support is kept. The same can be heard in “떠나지못해” when belting A4’s. More recently though, his sound is a lot thinner and tighter, as he squeezes his throat muscles more and lets his larynx raise on A4’s, as heard in “정말 고마웠어요,” “Tell Me What To Do” and “Love.” This can also be heard when comparing the Bb4’s from “마포종점” to the B4’s in “Love,” where there’s a drastic change in openness and placement. He’s not lost his ability to support as high as G4, as heard in “Tell Me What To Do” nor G#4, but has become less consistent with resonance and openness, as well as not showing support above G#4.
His upper register is a very weak and underdeveloped falsetto, much like his lower register, it feels sloppy, badly projected and colorless without any true care for development. At times able to produce notes in the C#5 and E5 range, Taemin’s highest notes ever were a Bb5 and a B5 he more than not, pushed rather than truly supporting and using the same principles he uses for his mixed register.
Taemin used to use a jaw vibrato with a lot of tension, but has overtime also learned to create a healthier vibrato through better support and control. His pitch is generally very good and on point for his supported range, not tending to lose control or connection. His weakest area is the fact that he possesses only one well developed register and two very underdeveloped ones. His voice lacks true musicality and musicianship, barely ever really playing with dynamics or changing melodies, Taemin tends to simply have a clean straight style of singing. In other words, he sings exactly what he’s told to, instead of truly letting his own musical personality be showcased through his singing. He’s also got very good stamina, able to dance and easily sing with proper technique in his supported range.
Taemin is a smart vocalist and generally delivers clean performances, without messing up and sounding uncontrolled. His mixed register was so consistent and developed that it created a false impression of having support up to Bb4/B4. However due to his lack of vocal creativity and developed registers, Taemin possesses a very narrow range for his voice to really truly shine in due to the lack of attention to fully developing his voice into one even sound throughout every single one of his registers.
He possesses a very good spirit for improvement and should be able to improve even more in the future, but for now working on developing his sound to make his voice grow and mature should be the main focus, so that he’s able to use every color and register of his voice to fully create a vocal showcase in his vocal performances. Lastly truly developing his sound to grow bigger, opening his throat and letting his voice mature to find his best styles should help him grow as a vocalist and hopefully musician and performer. He has a very consistent mixed register and can learn to develop the musical side of his voice to understand all that he’s able to do with it. Although his main focus seems to be his dancing and artistry, he is completely capable of improving his technique even more as he’s already shown in the past.
Taemin doesn’t tend to show off much with his voice and tends to simply do what the melody of the song asks him to. He lacks any true understanding of creating vocally creative melodies and playing with music to fully deliver the essence of it.
Label (Type of Vocalist)
MB Vocalists: Mid-Range Belters
Vocal Range Video(s)
video by: Ahmin (Kitsunemale)
Best Vocal Performance(s)
Analyzed by Ahmin (Kitsunemale)
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Dropping the bin and running, Riko felt so stupid. She’d left Kate alone and unarmed, other than a baseball bat.
The sand and smoke made running awkward and painful in equal measures. It felt like it took her a month to get to where she’d left Kate, and she fully expected to find the woman dead in her wheelchair.
“Take that, you asshole.” Riko heard Kate’s yell followed by a metal thunk and yelp of pain. The wind turned and the smoke moved towards the inside of the island, letting Riko see what had happened. A man was laying down cradling his head and Kate was glowering over him wielding the baseball bat.
“Kate, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I might be in a wheelchair but I’m also an Olympic athlete.” Giving Riko a sad smile, she said, “Your partner’s an asshole.”
The man laying on the ground was Ethan. His arm was still attached, but without his fathers watch. Taking her handcuffs out of her back pocket, Riko cuffed him to an old stump of a tree. He was unconscious.
After a few minutes of resting, she got some water from the lake and threw it in his face. He woke with a start.
“Why, Ethan? Why?”
Smiling he shook his head saying, “Not how? Really, you won’t give me the satisfaction of telling you how I bested the amazing Riko Dulac?”
Holding back the tears that were stinging her eyes, she shook her head and asked again, “Why?”
“Fine. I’ll monologue for you. This is revenge, pure and simple revenge. You are all terrible people and the planet is better off without you.”
When he didn’t continue, Kate laughed, “If anyone has reason to hate this group it would be me.” She pointed at her legs.
“At least you’re still alive. The merciless teasing and horrible things you all did to my sister made her kill herself. Do you know what it’s like watching someone you love change completely?”
“Yes,” Riko said unable to hide the crack in her voice.
Ignoring her he continued, “She went from a happy inquisitive girl to a depressed and angry one.”
“Kingsley was your sister? She killed herself?” Riko asked completely blindsided.
“Yes, and you didn’t even notice. Protector of the school, moral compass, bully slayer… All high and mighty and blind to everyone but her friends pain.”
“Why did you wait so long?” Kate asked.
“Revenge is a best served cold.”
“Fine. Now that you’ve told us why, tell us how. Do you have some sort of magic powers?” Riko said sarcastically. There was no way he could have sent the texts, move the bodies, set up the traps, and everything else.
His only reply was to smile. She slapped him. She couldn’t help it. She started to shake him. His smile only widened. She was getting ready to punch him when he finally spoke, “I don’t have magic powers. I have partner.” He looked over her shoulder.
She turned just in time to see a sword come out of Kate’s chest. Standing behind Kate with a crazed look was Allison. “You didn’t really think you had the brains or the resources to pull this off, did you?”
“Allison?” Riko’s head spun and she watched the light die in Kate’s eyes.
Struggling to get the sword out of Kate, Allison grunted. She finally gave up and took a shotgun out from a sling on her back.
“Yes. Poor little boring Allison. Did you forget about me again? Like the time I was supposed to tutor you in math and you never showed up? Or the time you, Zane, and I were going to go see Narnia together? Or maybe that time I was supposed to get a ride with you to the grad party? Ring a bell?”
“I’m sorry, Allison. I didn’t realize…”
“NO!” Allison yelled, “You didn’t care! And when I saw what you all did to poor Kingsley, I knew you had to pay. It took me years to get the money to buy this island and put cameras everywhere. Finding Ethan was a nice bonus.”
“Did I make it look like you had no signal? My app has an extra layer. I can activate it and it take over your phone. Making it look like you have no signal. It then only allows texts from me to get through. And you were all dumb enough to install it.”
“Wow. We must have been horrible to have you go through all this trouble,” Riko said. She was still angry, but she was also guilty and exhausted.
“I don’t want your pity, bitch!” Allison snickered and then added, “I want you to die.” She raised the shotgun at Riko. “Any last words?”
Riko recognized the shotgun and hesitated before saying, “Don’t do it. I–”
Cutting her off again, Allison said, “I don’t care,” and pulled the trigger. The shotgun, the same that Riko had rigged to backfire in the hotel, backfired and shot Allison in the chest.
Ethan started giggling at the sight. He didn’t stop as Riko took her phone and deleted Allison’s app. Then she restarted the phone for good measure and when it turned back on, she had five percent battery, but she had signal. She called 911 and explained where she was and babbled what had happened.
Still giggling, Ethan started bashing his head against the tree stump he was tied to. Riko tried to care, she tried to feel indignant that he was trying to escape justice, but instead she just felt numb. When he stopped moving she reached over and felt his neck. He was still alive, barely.
In her numb state, she was relieved he would face justice but she couldn’t help feeling that the entire thing was partly her fault.
Help me write 2017’s serial story and vote for the
2017 Serial Story – You Vote, I Write
If you enjoyed Wargrave Island why not read previous years serial stories:
2014 – The Ridiculous Adventures of Felix Felicis
The story of a man who likes things neat and organized and gets dragged across time and space.
2015 – Only Human
The story of an ordinary-ish human, who enrols in Monster University to find her sister’s killer, but finds love and friendship instead.
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Today’s devotion continues, “The Importance in John Seeing the Voice of God.” My text is Revelation 1:10-20, but I want to see vs. 12-17 and bring out how John was influenced by what he saw. In vs. 12-13, I see the Lord’s Place in His Church. “And I turned to see the voice that spake with me. And being turned, I saw seven golden candlesticks; And in the midst of the seven candlesticks one like unto the Son of man, clothed with a garment down to the foot, and girt about the paps with a golden girdle.” (KJV) Jesus Christ is the Owner, Builder, Sustainer, Inspector, and Director of His church! The Lord stands in the midst of the candlesticks which are individual lampstands and brings out the autonomy of the local church. Notice the Lord is standing in the middle of these lampstands which means He alone is to be the focus of the church.
In vs. 14-15, I see the Lord’s Holiness in His church. “His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire; And his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace; and his voice as the sound of many waters.” (KJV) John saw the purity of the Divine Judge in His hair white like wool. John saw the Divine Inspector in those eyes as a flame of fire. John saw that He is the Divine Pillar of Truth in those feet of brass. John also heard the Divine Voice of Power that spoke at Creation and also speaks to lost sinners to bring them to salvation. In vs. 16, I see the Lord’s Communication to His church. “And he had in his right hand seven stars: and out of his mouth went a sharp two-edged sword: and his countenance was as the sun shineth in his strength.” (KJV)
The seven stars represent God’s messengers or preachers that He has called to preach the Word of God. When John saw these things, he fell at His Savior’s feet in vs. 17a “And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead….” (KJV) When we see our Savior for Who He is, we will not want to stand before Him, we’ll just fall at His feet and worship Him.
Pastor Joey Durham
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Only two days remain for the Game Of Thrones season six TV premiere and a series of theories have already started making the rounds. But before taking things further, IBTimes UK takes a look back at the previous seasons of the hit show and offers a brief history on the key characters and plots within this fantasy world.
If you did not like Sansa Stark at the start of Game Of Thrones, you are not alone. The eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, Sansa (Sophie Turner) was a typical young lady of the age. She had a fondness for embroidery, marrying someone of importance and having lots of babies... not what we are looking for in a GoT character.
So when the royal party came to visit Winterfell, her home, she immediately formed an interest in the heir to the throne, Joffrey. Little did she know what a rotten fruit the boy would turn out to be. Soon enough she was packing her bags and making her way to the capital, King's Landing, where she would dream of getting married to the boy, who would go on to become the cause of some serious trouble for her.
What started off as coy smiles and shy glances soon turned to hate-filled insults, threats and even physical abuse from Joffrey, after he had her father's head chopped off for treason. He not only made her watch the execution, but also took her to a place on the palace wall where the head of the traitor was displayed on a spike.
Through all the horrors, young Sansa managed to keep her composure, including when the king ordered Meryn Trant to tear off her clothes in front of the other lords and ladies.
Sansa reminds us of that one person who keeps being bullied no matter how much she tries to fade into the background. When a riot ensued in the capital, she got lost in the crowd and was attacked by a group of filthy men who try to rape her. Luckily, The Hound – Sandor Clegane came to her rescue.
Once Joffrey decided he did not want to marry her and turned his attention to Margaery Tyrell instead, Sansa was made to marry his much older uncle Tyrion. Luckily for her, the dwarf Lannister was kind, wedding her only in name and promised not to touch her if she did not want.
The young Stark girl had some semblance of stability at last, but that did not last long either. When Joffrey got poisoned at his own wedding, she was whisked away by the royal clown who took her to Littlefinger aka Lord Baelish – who promised to take her away to safety. But he had plans of his own for the young girl. After some unbearable moments spent in his company, in season 5, the Master of Coin, who also happened to be her uncle by marriage, rode with Sansa back to Winterfell, her family home which was being occupied by the Boltons – the men responsible for the murder of her mother and brother Robb.
Later, Baelish planned to marry her off to Lord Bolton's bastard son (now made legitimate) Ramsay, since her marriage with Tyrion was never consummated. Little did either of them know that the young Bolton had a fondness for torture and enjoyed skinning people alive!
One reaching her old home, she found Theon Greyjoy, who, after intense torture and dismembering by Ramsay went by a new name, Reek, and worked as a servant for the family. She still thought he killed and burned her two younger brothers (which he did not).
It was out of the frying pan and into the fire for Sansa, who soon after the wedding was raped by Ramsay while Reek was made to watch. The torture continued and Sansa tried to escape with help from Reek, but the man was so broken that he was too terrified to go against his master and reported her plans to her new husband.
Sansa just could not catch a break, but despite all the rape and torture she managed to portray a sense of strength and even Reek was willing to help her. He even confessed that he never really killed her brothers, but burnt two other orphan boys instead.
With Stannis Baratheon's army nearing them, the Boltons planned an attack strategy and while the rest were busy preparing for battle, Reek and Sansa made a dash for freedom by jumping off the castle wall.
What to expect in season 6
We have seen Sansa as the quintessential young lady, the harassed fiancée of Joffrey, the sceptical niece of Lord Baelish and the sexual plaything of Ramsay Bolton. But now we will get to see her is a more powerful light.
The girl is gone and in her place is a young woman who is hungry for revenge. In the trailer for season six she is seen wearing armour and talking about retribution for those who have harmed her and her family. Let the payback begin!
Game Of Thrones season six will premiere on HBO on 24 April at 9pm ET.
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by I. Ben Visited
Last week, Jerusalem was the scene of some disturbances. Astrologers, or Magi, from the East visited King Herod. They reported that they had seen the star of the new King of the Jews.
When King Herod heard this, he consulted with the chief priests and teachers of the law. These illustrious members of Jerusalem society informed him that according to the prophet, Micah, the Christ’s birthplace is Bethlehem in Judea. This is our same Bethlehem that is approximately six miles south of Jerusalem.
Bethlehem is a small town. Many of our inhabitants make their living as shepherds outside of the city. It hardly seems the kind of town in which a king would be born even though our great King David came from here.
The night after the Magi met with King Herod, they left with his strict orders to find the Child. King Herod expected them to report back to him with information of the Child’s precise whereabouts. For two day the King has waited the Magi’s return. However, there has been no trace of them.
Today, Herod clearly vented his great anger. In the wake of the Magis’ presumed compliance, trickery is now suspected; disobedience to the kings orders and flight to their homes by another route.
New Publishers Group by Ima Shepherd
For the past two days, Bethlehem has been overrun by shepherds. All of them seem to be headed to the stable at Jethro’s Inn. I caught up with one yesterday who said, “I have never seen anyone like Him. He seems to be able to look right into my soul. His eyes look much older thah the few days old He really is.” This man claimed that the Child of whom he spoke was the promised Messiah of Israel.
Many of the townspeople, spurred on by these exclamations, have also visited the stable. Almost every one of them has come out looking more peaceful and full of joy than when they went in.
Even if this Child is not the One who will free us from Roman dominion, He has affected the people of Bethlehem to the greater good of all.
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Clear questions and runnable code
get the best and fastest answer
The path to masteryby tilly (Archbishop)
|on Aug 06, 2000 at 05:28 UTC||Need Help??|
This is not a story about Perl. Or Perl programming. Or even computers.
Rather it is a story about the road to mastering any logical subject.
As my bio says, I once studied math. One subject in math is analysis. This is the true story of a student that my first analysis professor once had.
This student was a physics student. He did not really want to take analysis. But he decided that if he was taking it, then he might as well truly learn it.
When he sat down to do his first homework he realized that he did not understand what it meant to prove something. So he went to the professor and asked what a proof was. The professor answered, "A proof is an airtight demonstration that a thing must be so." The student asked what could be assumed. The professor answered, "You may start with the axioms and the theorems we have proven from the axioms." The student asked if you had to accept the theorems, the professor said, "You need not accept anything that you have not been fully convinced of."
The student's first homework set was 20 pages long. The other students needed 5. The student was concerned and asked the professor, "My homework is so much longer than theirs is. Am I doing something wrong?" The professor said, "You may take as long to do it as you need to. Did you keep in mind what I said about axioms and theorems?" The student answered, "I did, but I didn't feel that I understood the theorems so I worked from the axioms only." The professor answered, "That is good but learn to build on what you already know." The student promised to try.
The student's first homework was perfect. As the course progressed the student continued to try. Homework by homework he maintained excellent work, and step by step learned to organize his thoughts so that he could build on previous results in class and in his own work. And step by step the length of his homework fell.
By the end of the course the other's still needed 5 pages for their homework. But this student did not. He no longer needed 20. He no longer needed 10. Instead his perfect assignments fit comfortably on a page with room to spare.
The professor congratulated him on his progress and asked him about the cause. The student said, "Well I know the subject so well that I know exactly how to do each problem, and I do that and no more."
Here then is the moral for Perl programmers. When you see the code of master Perl programmers you may be amazed at how few strokes of the keyboard they require to solve a problem completely. Many in error think that they should therefore constantly try to cram as much into as little room as possible.
This is a misguided path.
Instead strive to understand fully and completely the tool at hand. Explore exactly how it works and what it can do. In addition constantly learn how to build on what you and others have done before. Aim for clarity and comprehension, and mastery shall surely follow.
This is a true path.
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I was never actually interested in her.
I certainly didn't love her. Not for a moment. Loving someone you've never
met comes close to lunacy, and besides... that's
not why I talk to them. Not any of them.
You meet a lot of women like Serena in IRC, if you avoid the more blatant of
the sex-soliciting channels. There's always a lonely woman waiting for a
sympathetic ear and a virtual hug... and sometimes... usually even, for more.
You can use a lot of your life up having cyber with women you'll never meet,
never touch. It's not the same as having someone to hold at night... but it's
more fulfilling that just cruising the porn sites and using up all your tissues
alone. I dunno, it feels less... dirty... less pathetic somehow.
In the beginning Serena was only after a person to unload her troubles on.
They all begin that way. And I listen.
I listened for endless hours as she poured out her life story. An unhappy
marriage. Sexually frustrated. Ambitions crushed. Lonely. Embittered...
Just like a dozen other women I've known and talked to.
I had the patter down.
I listened to her.
And if I sometimes left the TV on while we chatted, if more of my attention was
on whether there was a slice of uneaten pizza
left in the fridge than on her troubles, she never realised.
I hugged her. A lot. And whenever she looked as though she might want to take
it another step, I backed off. Right off. I told her I was confused, vulnerable,
not ready for this. I was zealous in my support
of her, my condemnation of her husband.
And, like all of them, she lapped it up.
Soon, she was eating out of my hand.
I manipulated her into complimenting me by telling her how pathetic I was,
how useless. How alone.
Even backhanded compliments,
worked for, dug out of lonely women are rewarding for an ego as alone and desirous
of boosting as mine.
One night as we were chatting, she asked me if I would like to see her
picture, and I casually agreed, not allowing the trembling of my fingers to show
in my typing. This was always the make or break stage. If I reacted properly,
she'd be hooked, and mine for... for as long as I wanted her, really.
I looked up to the corkboard by my desk, looking over the souvenir
photos of woman I had known like this over the last two years. Each photo was
printed out with dates and comments. Some of the comments were about where I'd
got it right. And a couple were about how I'd get it wrong.
Sometimes I feel those pictures and I have some sort of complicitous
relationship. Each one helps me refine my touch, hone my skills. Samantha tells
me not to push for too much too soon. Tabby tells me never to accept that
"I'm ok" means "I'm ok" Elizabeth reminds me that attacking
a husband, even a brutal one, tends to backfire. And Erica jogs my memory about
the Healthy Lifestyle people and how to get them. Be enthusiastic about lentils.
About walking. Even about soy. I don't know where I'd be without them.
I was determined not to get it wrong this time.
The file finished sending, and I opened it at once, keeping up the flow of
sympathy and gentle touch I had been working into all this week, and as I looked
at Serena's face for the first time I knew I had to get it right this
Serena was exquisite, doll-like. Scarlet
lips and nails. Trim waist. Tiny, delicate hands. And a look of such wistfulness
that I almost felt myself feeling all the sympathy and care I'd been
showing her. And I began on my piece de resistance.
In the chat client, I took her hand. I kissed it, softly.
"My gods... Serena... I'm speechless...You're beautiful"
I told her I was in awe.
She didn't reply.
I couldn't have blown it this time. Not with this woman.
She didn't reply.
She didn't reply.
But the chat client did.
"Serena: No such nick/channel"
I swore. How had I managed to scare her off?
I mailed her at once, all concern, restating how lovely she was, and asking
if she was OK. I had no reply.
Three days later I received an email couched in frosty tones. It seemed
Serena had asked a friend to write to me.
Serena is dead.
Her husband came home early and was most unhappy with what he saw on her screen.
She died this morning.
This is all your fault"
It was unsigned, and the address was unreachable.
That was four weeks ago.
I still can't get to sleep.
I can't eat.
I never loved her. Not for a moment. Not me.
Oh god... I miss her so much
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This prayer before confession was written by St. Gemma Galgani, pictured above, who was an extraordinary mystic and stigmatist. St. Gemma was born in Italy in 1878 and died fairly young at age 25, yet she displayed such holiness that she was canonized by the Church in 1940.
Our Lord appeared to her numerous times in her short life and inspired her fierce and steadfast devotion to Him, even in the midst of the great pains she experienced for the salvation of sinners! We can feel her intensity in this prayer:
My crucified God, behold me at Your feet. Do not reject me, a poor sinner, as I appear before You. I have offended You much in the past, my Jesus, but in the future I resolve to sin no more. My God, I put all my sins before You. I have considered them and realize they do not deserve Your pardon. But I beg of you to cast one glance upon Your sufferings and see how great is the worth of that Precious Blood that flows from your veins. My God, at this hour close Your eyes to my want of merit and open them to Your infinite merits. Since You, dear Jesus, have been pleased to die for my sins, grant me forgiveness for them all, that I may no longer feel their heavy burden, which presses me to the earth. My Jesus, help me, for I desire to become good, no matter what it may cost. Take away, destroy, root out completely all that You find in me that may be contrary to Your holy Will. At the same time I beg You, O Jesus, to enlighten me, that I may be able to walk in Your holy light.
Although St. Gemma has been called “the Passion Flower of Lucca” (which was the town in Italy where she lived) her life was no bed of roses! Her mother died when she was 8 and her father passed away when she was 19. Thus, she grew up helping to raise her 7 brothers and sisters, and she experienced poverty firsthand for a time after her father’s death before going to live with relatives.
Gemma also developed spinal meningitis when she was just 20. She was cured of this condition miraculously in March 1899, as she herself claimed, through the intercession of St. Gabriel Possetti, who had died of consumption in 1862.
These trials didn't diminish her love for Jesus nor her desire to help the poor, which she often did with loving acts of charity. She wished to become a nun, but her frail health kept this from happening. Nonetheless, it didn't keep her from becoming a saint!
Gemma experienced the Divine and supernatural presence in a very special way as a mystic. She would converse with Jesus, often in mystical trancelike states we call ecstasies. Her Guardian Angel visited her frequently as well, as did our Blessed Mother.
Our Lord had a special task for her, to become what is known as a victim soul, one who is chosen by God to bear a great deal of suffering in reparation for the sins of mankind. He once told her “I need souls who, by their sufferings, trials and sacrifices, make amends for sinners and for their ingratitude”.
Indeed, Gemma understood this calling quite well when she wrote in a letter of her desire to be Christ’s victim, “in order to atone for my innumerable sins, and if possible, for those of the whole world”.
Victim souls have a special mystical bond with our Lord. They include in their ranks such illustrious figures in our faith as St. Padre Pio, St. Faustina, and Sister Josefa Menendez. Like them, Gemma was often harassed by the devil, who tried to keep her from snatching souls from him by her suffering and sanctity, souls that would otherwise be bound for Hell!
After one very intense mystical vision, on June 8, 1899, Gemma first received the stigmata, the Five Wounds of Christ, out of which blood would flow. She would continue to receive them periodically from Thursday evenings into Friday afternoons. She also suffered wounds from a mystical crown of thorns. She bore all this for the most part in loving solidarity with our Lord in his Passion, suffering for souls with dignity and grace.
Still, Gemma was, like all of us, only human! She had a humble awareness of her own sins and imperfections, of those times she felt irritable and lukewarm in her relationship with God. (Keep in mind that her conscience was much more finely attuned to such faults than ours might be.)
Yet such was Gemma’s love for our Lord that she once wrote of herself in a letter that “Gemma alone can do nothing. But together Gemma and Jesus can do all things!"
Gemma never wished to draw attention to herself nor her extraordinary life! Fortunately for us, however, she wrote an autobiography in 1901, at the request of her Spiritual Director, Father Germanus, which included her descriptions of her supernatural experiences and encounters.She wrote letters to him about them and kept a diary as well.
Gemma died of tuberculosis on Holy Saturday of 1903 in a peaceful death that followed much pain. If you’d like to read more about her, we recommend this excellent website.
We hope her story, her humility and her devotion to Jesus as shown in her prayer above can inspire you to greater sanctity as well. If this seems like too tall an order, just remember this: if saints such as St. Gemma can be humble enough to turn to God for help in dealing with their sinfulness, so can any of us! Humility and trust in God are key virtues for us to adopt on the road to Heaven.
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Frank Leward: Memorials
Mrs. Leward to Lord Pennis
Mrs. Leward to Lord Pennis.
My Lord,—My husband is too unwell to reply to your letter, but I though only a woman, cannot allow such expressions to go unnoticed. If my son were here he would resent an insult to his mother's honour in another way. As it is, Lord Pennis should know that he has insulted a daughter of that Mr. Herbert who, if she mistakes not, was once of service to him some years ago, and that this daughter has through his means lost a son of to her such priceless value as a person of Lord Pennis' character can never understand.
Indeed, my Lord, you have already brought trouble enough on me without seeking to wound my honour and to frighten an invalid husband to a bed of sickness.
There is, however, some compensation even you can make, the only compensation I could stoop to ask of you, and that is to tell me all you know of my poor boy. Oh, if you really do know what has become of him, I would walk barefoot all the way to London, I could put up with your wrongs, I could even bear your gross insults, to gain that information, I think I could almost forgive you all you have done to render my home desolate if you would only tell me where I could find him.
My Lord, I have perhaps written more plainly than is becoming to a person of your rank.
—I am, sincerely yours,
To the Right Hon. the Earl of Pennis,Boodles Club, St. James' Street, London.
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“Magnus I am so sorry. For everything you had to go through.” Alec was desperately searching for ideas on how to help Magnus. How to help the man he loves who is sitting in front of him looking like any loud noise could make him break.
“That agony rune...made me relieve memories I’ve spent centuries trying to forget.” said Magnus, his voice heavily coated in grief. Alec could hear the build up of tears behind his words.
He sat down next to Magnus. His movements were tentative and he wanted so bad to reach out and pull the man into his arms, but he didn’t know if the gesture would be welcome.
“Magnus tell me how to fix this.” Alec pleaded his lover. “Just tell me what to do. Please.”
Magnus looked at him slightly shaking his head as if to say there’s nothing you can do. But he looked in the younger man’s eyes and all he could see was honesty. He could see Alec was desperate to help. He just had no idea how he could.
Alec slid off the couch and kneeled in front of Magnus. “Can I-” he gestured towards him “Can I touch you?” he asked hesitantly and Magnus gave a slight nod.
“Please, Magnus.” he said, bringing their foreheads together “Please, tell me what you need.” Alec’s words chocked in his throat as tears threatened to fall.
The raven haired boy brought each palm on either side of Magnus’ neck and leaned back to look the man in the eye “Do you want me to leave?” he asked, praying to Lilith he hadn’t screwed things up so thoroughly.
Magnus opened his mouth to protest, but Alec continued “Because I understand if you do. I mean I caused you so much suffering I can’t imagine how me being here could offer you any comfort. Unless you need help like...cleaning the place or I c-could make you tea or-” Magnus placed a finger on Alec’s lips to silence the young boy’s rambling.
Magnus looked at the man whose face was now streaked with tears. He was so afraid Magnus wouldn’t want anything to do with him now.
Alec closed his eyes as more tears fell down his long lashes. He let his hands drop to rest on Magnus’ thighs. “Please don’t hate me.” he whispered, his hands shaking against the man’s legs.
“I could never hate you, my dear Alexander.” said Magnus in a raspy voice, his own tears threatening to fall.
Alec opened his eyes to see Magnus and his carefully built walls crumbling as tears started to cascade down his face and his expression morphed into one of utter pain and despair.
Alec moved closer and suddenly Magnus was wrapped in the warmth of his lover’s arms. The feeling of safety finally allowing him to let go and feel the pain. To feel the grief from the resurfaced memories. To feel the hopelessness when Alec didn’t believe him. To feel and let go and after a very long time alone, lean on somebody and let them take some of the burden.
Magnus relaxed into Alec and let his angle take his weight. They stayed like that for a while. After some time Alec’s knees began to hurt, but the boy was prepared to stay like that forever if it meant Magnus would never feel that kind of pain again.
Magnus’ body started to become heavier as he slowly slipped in and out of unconsciousness. Alec slowly stood up and gathered the warlock in his arms and carried him to the bedroom where he gently laid him on the bed. He removed Magnus’ shoes and jacket and then sat down on the bed next to his love.
“Do you need me to help you get undressed?” he asked, but Magnus snapped his fingers lazily and he was left in his boxers. And as brief as that moment of coherency was, Magnus was again falling asleep.
Alec tentatively leaned forward and lightly tapped the man’s cheek. Magnus opened his eyes lethargically.
“Do you-” Alec’s voice was shaking as he spoke “Do you want me to leave?” he asked as a new tear fell. His chin was trembling as he tried to keep rest of the tears at bay, waiting for Magnus’ rejection.
Magnus, for the first time in 24 hours smiled softly through his own tears as he lifted one hand up to Alec’s cheek. “I would very much love it if you stayed, Alexander.” he spoke gently.
Alec sighed in relief and rested his head on Magnus’ chest for a second.
He then stood up and undressed himself down to his boxers. He climbed into bed and pulled Magnus into him. They wrapped their hands around each other and held on tightly, neither ever wanting to let go.
Alec pressed his face into Magnus’ soft hair and whispered “I love you. So much. I could not imagine my life without you. I swear I will do everything in my power to protect you and if the clave has a problem with you after this whole Valentine thing they can go to hell.”
“Alexander-” came Magnus’ short protest
“No. I mean it. I will take you as far away as possible from them if need be. I will never let anything happen to you again.” he said, kissing the warlock’s head.
He pulled back to look Magnus in the eyes to see the man looking at him with fondness. “I almost lost you, Magnus.” Alec’s touch on Magnus’ cheek was so gentle it brought new tears to his eyes.
Alec pushed the hair out of his eyes to reveal shining cat eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “You listen to me, Magnus Bane. I love you. I love you more than anyone else on this planet and your safety will always be my first priority.”
He moved forward and placed a soft kiss on Magnus’ forehead “Aku Cinta Kamu” he whispered softly as Magnus let out a soft sob in surprise.
He raised his head and gently placed his mouth on Alec’s. The kiss was feather-light, but conveyed all the love between the two.
“I love you too, Alexander.” said Magnus, his voice filled with affection.
He snuggled back under Alec’s chin and finally let sleep overtake him. Alec buried his face in Magnus’ black head of hair and breath in his scent. He soon followed Magnus to the world of sleep, knowing the love of his life was safely in his arms.
I am by no means a writer, but I had a lot of feelings left over from the episode and well... here you go.
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More than a century after his public debut, the name Jascha Heifetz continues to evoke awe and excitement among fellow musicians. In a performing career that spanned 65 years, he established an unparalleled standard of violin playing to which violinists around the world still aspire.
The day after the 19-year-old Heifetz’s London debut, George Bernard Shaw wrote him a now legendary letter. “If you provoke a jealous God by playing with such superhuman perfection,” Shaw warned, “you will die young. I earnestly advise you to play something badly every night before going to bed, instead of saying your prayers. No mortal should presume to play so faultlessly.”
Heifetz is widely considered to be one of the most profoundly influential performing artists of all time. Born in Vilnius, Lithuania — then occupied by Russia — on February 2, 1901, he became a U.S. citizen in 1925. Fiercely patriotic to his adopted country, he gave hundreds of concerts for Allied service men and women during World War II, including tours of Central and South America, North Africa, Italy, France, and Germany, often playing from the back of a flatbed truck in dangerous conditions.
In 1928, he published the first of dozens of acclaimed violin transcriptions. Many, including his arrangements of selections from Gershwin’s “Porgy and Bess,” are now part of the standard repertoire. Using the pseudonym Jim Hoyl, he even wrote a pop song that became a hit in 1946.
In his later years, Heifetz became a dedicated teacher and a champion of causes he believed in. He led efforts to establish “911” as an emergency phone number, and crusaded for clean air. He and his students at the University of Southern California protested smog by wearing gas masks, and in 1967 he converted his Renault passenger car into an electric vehicle.
As a result of his vast recorded legacy, Heifetz’s violin playing is no less influential today than it was in his lifetime. To legions of violinists he remains, quite simply, “The King.”
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The Discoverer by Jan Kjaerstad (Part III of V)
The Frankfurt Book Fair is going all week, so rather than vanish for a few days, all this week we’re serializing the opening of Jan Kjaerstad’s _The Discoverer, translated from the Norwegian by Barbara Haveland. This is the follow-up to The Conqueror (although each book in the Wergeland Trilogy can be read independently of the others) and takes place shortly after TV-producer and Norwegian icon Jonas Wergeland has released from prison for the murder of his wife. [Click here for Part I and here for Part II.]
You can purchase the book from our site, either by itself as part of a subscription to Open Letter or as one of the titles in our special 2 books for $22 offer. It’s worth noting that as part of this special offer, you’re automatically entered into a drawing to win a free year’s subscription. So, without any further ado . . . _
After a while he began to discover crossover points between lines, eventually he even found one line that ran in a circle. He would have liked to stay down there for days, becoming part of the network, until he realized that he had reached Kievskaja station, a short step from his hotel. Later he would study the patterns on the onion domes of St Basil’s Cathedral and visit the Kremlin with all its undreamt-of treasures; he would see monasteries and churches with incandescent icons and glittering domes, but for Jonas Wergeland nothing could compare with what he had experienced, the sights he had seen, in the underground: a maze of sunken palaces. “In Moscow,” he would later say, “I learned that sometimes you have to go down into the depths in order to see the light.”
As he left Grorud station behind him, something told him that the Moscow experience was about to repeat itself, that something which had until now lain hidden awaited him. His current job with NRK was also the happy outcome of a story about going astray. In many ways it was the tale of needing a bathroom and making, therefore, a bit of a detour only, when all but sitting on the toilet, to be offered the chance to fill a vacancy. Now, though, he suspected that there was a sequel to this story, that his job as an announcer was merely the first—possibly dull—stage along a path that might almost have been said to lead to sunken palaces.
This suspicion was confirmed a moment later when he pushed open the main door of the church and that lofty room lay before him, suddenly much warmer, much brighter, much richer in scents and sensations than before. Myrrh, the thought flashed through his mind. Like a child in Sunday school, sticking goldfish onto a drawing of a fishing net in a book. Like Christmas Eve, he thought, in the days when the church was still a place filled with anticipation, with swelling organ music and colored light from stained-glass windows. In the days before anyone told you there was no God.
Jonas Wergeland was playing the organ. Or rather: not playing, but weaving, playing Johann Sebastian Bach, causing transparent worlds to pour from the organ casing, causing a succession of veils to drop down over the lofty room. His thoughts flew in all directions. Forward in time. Back in time. Often, on his way home from school or from piano lessons he had popped into the church, where his father was the organist. On a couple of occasions—during serious crises in his life—he had lain on the red carpet in front of the altar, feeling as though he were dead. Then his father had played, usually fugues, and he had walked out again like a soul resurrected. To Jonas it seemed that his father played life into him. Blew life into a dead thing. “This is a control center,” his father had said, pointing to the instrument’s complicated keyboard. Jonas was more inclined to call it a rescue center. He did not think of his father as an organist, but as a lifesaver. Maybe that was why, at an early age, he decided that this was what he, too, would be.
Jonas Wergeland sat on the organ bench in the church of his childhood, playing, weaving music into being, weaving thoughts into being, smiling as he pictured his mother’s horrified face, the look that met him when, as a boy, he shot up from the bottom of the bath gulping for air. She never spotted Daniel—a reassuring element—until it was too late. His brother would be perched on the toilet seat in the corner with the stopwatch they used when they went skating or lay in front of the radio listening to broadcasts of various sporting championships, as if they did not trust the lap times and final results quoted by the commentators.
“Blast!” Daniel always exclaimed, in dismay and delight—heedless of his mother’s stricken expression. “He flippin’ well did it again. A minute and a half.”
“You owe me five krone,” Jonas would gasp, his face tinged with blue, not altogether unlike the image of Krishna in Indian paintings.
Åse Hansen, normally the most even-tempered member of the family, remarkable for her stoic composure even when Rakel did not come home from parties or some ill-mannered relative ruined a Christmas dinner, was for a long time worried sick every time Jonas sneaked off to the bathroom and she heard the water start to run. It played merry hell with her nerves to know that if she peeked round the door she would see her son lying at the bottom of a full bathtub, holding his breath until his lungs screamed for oxygen. One day, when she could no longer turn a blind eye, she flung open the door just as Jonas’s head burst to the surface, with him coughing and spluttering from all the water he had swallowed. She gave him a telling off, asked him why on earth he was doing this.
“I’m practicing,” he wheezed.
“To save lives.”
Well, there was really no arguing with that. His mother sniffed some remark or other and closed the door, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. But Jonas was in deadly earnest. Ahead of him lay a summer during which he would establish his goal in life. He practiced with all the perseverance of the perfectionist. And he became very good.
Some people go through life without sparing the most profound existential questions more than an occasional heavy sigh. They want simply to live. Not to live for anything. For them it is enough just to scrape some money together, to seduce someone. And if that doesn’t do it, you can always go parachuting. To what extent such people are fortunate is not something we will go into here, because Jonas Wergeland belonged to another branch of humanity, to that group who from a very early age, possibly a little too early, begin to reflect on the purpose and the meaning of life. This question was as obscure for Jonas as it was crystal-clear for Daniel: as far as his older brother was concerned the whole point of life was to be the best. At everything, no matter what. Daniel belonged to that category of Norwegian who from the moment they were born seemed intent on dedicating their lives to proving the truth of Gro Harlem Brundtland’s later assertion that “it is typically Norwegian to be good.” For Daniel, the whole point was to be able to ascend the winner’s rostrum, be it a high one like Mount Everest or a low-lying one like a woman’s mount of Venus.
Jonas, on the other hand, had come to the conclusion that the purpose of life was to make a name for oneself—the reason for this need be nothing more mysterious than that he was distantly related to the people in the Book of Genesis. Although, it could of course also have had something to do with the fact that he liked to walk around town looking at all the shop signs: Ingwald Nielsen, Thv. L. Holm. At night some names, such as that of Ferner Jacobsen, were even written in neon. He could stand for ages on Egertorg, staring at the jeweller’s where Aunt Laura had begun her career, admiring the lettering proclaiming david andersen. More than fame itself, Jonas longed to see his name in lights. The world would read his name and know that it stood for something of great worth, right up there alongside silver, gold and precious stones.
Jonas considered many different options. For some weeks—apropos this business with the names—he was quite convinced that the whole purpose of life was to have a dish named after you. He had long been used to hearing people refer to such culinary delights as Janson’s Temptation or beef à la Lindström: names which might not conjure up images of silver or gold, but which certainly made the mouth water. His mother was surprised by the interest displayed by her younger son in the kitchen. But after several unsuccessful, scorched attempts at what he called a Jonas cake: a concoction involving bananas, cardamom and liquorice gums which had Daniel, his guinea pig, hanging over the toilet, throwing up—he started to think bigger.
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Dario was the eternal student; at thirty-five he still lived at home. Officially he was at work on his thesis in nationalization and the post-war Italian economy but, if truth were known, he wasn’t doing anything very much except hanging out with Gavin.
When Gavin went to the Maltese, Dario always turned up. When Gavin was off to a party, Dario would tag along. When Gavin was going to a gig in Rome, he would always find Dario among the audience. Dario was what the locals call “piccicoso” or sticky. He stuck to you, like the pads of a fly on a hot summer’s day.
One day, Gavin got so fed up with him told him where to go.
They happened to be sitting in Gavin’s flat; Dario was stretched on Gavin’s sofa with a joint rolled by Gavin.
On the coffee table was a pair of sunglasses belonging to Gavin. Dario picked up the sunglasses and threw them across the room. Retrieving the sunglasses, he crushed them under foot. “Shithead,” he said; then he stormed out of the flat.
Gavin did not hear anything from Dario after that.
About a year later, they met, by chance, on the seafront.
Dario was with a girl whose name was Cecilia. He seemed please to see Gavin.
“Mummy’s Boy. You still haven’t paid for my sunglasses.”
Dario came back into Gavin’s life. When Gavin went out, Dario would still tag along, but it wasn’t quite the same because Dario had finished his degree and was going to get married to Cecilia.
Dario asked Gavin if he would give speech in English. “No one will understand,” he said, “except you, me and Cecilia.”
“I’ll do it,” said Gavin, “on the condition I get to slag you off.”
“Shithead,” said Dario.
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Harry Bradley - Flute
Artists ProfileHarry Bradley was born in South Belfast. The vibrant recording heritage from the 1920s and 30s has had a huge influence on his flute-playing style as has the playing of musicians such as Seamus Tansey, Dessie Wilkinson and piper Seamus Ennis, to name but a few. Noted for his unique tone and driving rhythm, Harry has come to be recognized as one of the most distinctive flute players in Ireland today.
He has toured internationally and recorded both as a soloist and with groups such as Cran and Altan. In 2014 he was the recipient of the TG4 Gradam Cheoil Traditional Musician of the Year Award.
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Most seniors worry about falling at one time or another, and this fear of falling can totally change a person's life. It can prevent them from doing the things they like to do, cause them to move around less and force seniors to spend more time at home.
A new study finds that tai chi can reduce the risk of falling in people who have already had problems with falls and help them develop better balance. Tai chi is an ancient Chinese tradition that is today practiced as a form of gentle exercise. It has sometimes been called meditation in motion and combines postures and gentle movements with mental focus, breathing and relaxation. It requires no special clothing and can be practiced while walking, standing or even sitting.
Tai chi is an ancient Chinese tradition that is practiced today as a form of gentle exercise. It has sometimes been called meditation in motion.
The other half received six months of hour-long tai chi classes, conducted once a week in their homes.
In addition to their weekly sessions, people were also asked to perform either LET or tai chi at home every day during the six-month study and during the entire year of follow-up. Participants kept diaries and recorded any falls that occurred.
After six months of training, people in the tai chi group were significantly less likely to experience an injury-causing fall than were people in the LET group. Even a year after taking the training, people who took tai chi were about 50 percent less likely to experience an injury-causing fall compared to people in the LET group.
Earlier research has shown that tai chi reduces falls and improves mobility in people with Parkinson's disease.
The study appears in the Journal of the American Geriatrics Society and is freely available.
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Art 1 started a new unit this past week. They are learning about informal balance and ways that artists can created a balanced image that is not symmetrical. We likened it to being on a see-saw as a child with your much bigger older brother and how much better it would be if both sides weighed the same. How could you balance out the see-saw if you were stuck with your bigger older brother and not someone your size? We learned that warm colors are heavier than cool colors, dark values weigh more than light, rough textures over smooth textures, and many others.
From there I introduced the project. Each student was to be given a cardboard egg carton that I had been saving over the past 2 years. Then they were to form a group of 2 or 3 students. Their problem to solve in their group artwork was to create something that was balanced, but not symmetrical. They needed to use any and/or all of the different techniques that we talked about.
A student asked me, “Is this 2-D or 3-D?” I turned to him and said, “I don’t know, you tell me.” I could see the the wheels and gears in their heads start to turn. I see that some of them were excited. I could see that some were scared. I was both. What would the end products look like? Would I be able to pull off a choice-based project? Would the kids be receptive to this? (I am sure that perhaps you are asking what is choice-based? You can find out more here and here. The second link is to the first part in a 5 part series about choice-based art in the high school classroom. I invite you to read all 5 parts.)
Today was a crazy day in the art room during my first session of art 1. I had kids cutting and painting (both traditionally and with spray paint) and gluing and planning. It was chaos and it was awesome. Everyone was working (with the exception of one student.) Their artworks were all different. They were exploring different things. They were collaborating. They were behaving like artists. I am tired, but I loved it. Tomorrow I do need to start to walk around and talk with the groups about their plans to make sure they are keeping the problem of informal balance in mind with their artworks. But until then, I will have a smile on my face as I think about the awesomeness that occurred during period 2 today. I hope periods 6 and 7 are the same.
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Tuesday, November 23, 1937 - Tuesday, December 18, 2018
The Lord called Audrey Carolyn Spears Dean home on Tuesday, December 18, 2018 after a lengthy illness. She was 81.
Funeral services will be held at 2:00 p.m. on Thursday, December 20, 2018 at St. Paul United Methodist Church with Rev. Johnny Belcher and Rev. Chip Oakley officiating. Interment will follow in the Hartford City Cemetery with Sorrells Funeral Home directing.
The family will receive friends at the funeral home on Wednesday from 6:00 until 8:00 p.m.
Mrs. Dean was born November 23, 1937 to the late Cleatus and Cora Lee Spears. Carolyn attended Geneva County High School and later graduated with a degree in nursing from George C. Wallace Community College. She worked for 26 years as an LPN in area hospitals and nursing homes and retired from SAMC on June 1, 1990. Carolyn was a member of St. Paul UMC since June of 1953 when she married the love of her life, Lawrence Dean. She served as pianist and organist since 1953 and taught Sunday School for several years. She took care of the flowers in the yard and helped her husband cut the church yards. Carolyn organized a “Feed the Hungry” program at the church and served in various positions in the church. Her first love was the Lord, second her family, friends, and the church. She enjoyed serving others.
She is survived by her husband, Lawrence Dean; four children: Mary Ann Shields (Gary), Linda Carol Evans (Bruce), Teresa Gayle Brannon (David), and Jimmy Lamar Dean (Pat); seven grandchildren: Joshua Shields, Brandon Shields, Jeremy Evans, Wes Evans, Jason Brannon, Crystal Love, and Lindsey Snipes; several great-grandchildren; and other extended family and friends.
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James “Jim” Wood (Economics ’66)
Managing Partner, Wood Investments
Jim Wood has been a member of the BCLA Advisory Board since 2008 and served as Chair for two years. He was also a member of the LMU Board of Regents from 2008-2011. Jim is the owner, President, and Managing Partner of Wood Investments, Inc., a real estate developer, commercial property manager, and real estate investment firm. While a student at LMU, he was a member of Phi Sigma Kappa (Sig Rho) fraternity. Jim and his wife, Patricia “Tish,” reside in Laguna Beach, CA, and have three adult children and five grandchildren.
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Baby Robinson! We are thankful that God answered our prayers! My mind has been racing. I no longer look at the children's section at the store in the same way! We are nervous and excited about being parents. I hope to lead my child to love Jesus and serve Him.
One of my favorite passages of scripture is Psalm 139. God
"For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them" Psalm 139:13-16.
Read more about our journey into parenthood over at my wife's blog!
Will you begin to pray for us?
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Laura Ashley Bio
Date of Birth :
September 7, 1925
DEATH DATE :
Sep 17, 1985 (age 60) Birthplace :
Merthyr Tydfil, Wales Zodiac sign :
Laura Ashley was a British renowned designer hailed from rural Wales was the Co-originator of home based work along with her husband Bernard Ashley that further transformed into a very famous textile company “Laura Ashley PLC”. The lady was famous for rich and rural feel manifested into her designs and her use of natural fabrics during the tenure from 1960s to 1980s. Prior to her death there were approximate more than 200 retail
outlets/ shops making money worldwide in line of various items like natural wood floors, cabinets, counters, old fashioned chairs etc.
Laura Ashley was born as Laura Mountey on 7thSeptember, 1925 in Dowlais, Merthyr Tydfil, Wales. She was born in service class & religious family. She was a Baptist. She completed her schooling in Whales first, there she attended Marshall’s School and then she moved back to Croydon, London to complete her rest of the education from Elmwood School. Soon she dropped out from school and joined Naval Services in 1942. After her service period in Navy, Ashley came back to London and started working as a secretary in “National Federation of Women Institute” from 1946 to 1952. She got settled in London, and in 1949 she met her husband Bernard Ashley and together they had 4 children.
Laura Ashley was very much interested in fashion designing, while living with her family in her adolescence, she learned craft work from her grandmother; she was deeply interested in designing quilts, headscarves, napkins etc. This interest was destined to be nurtured in an everlasting business.
While doing her job in London, she started doing numerous projects along with the help of Bernard Ashley her husband, the couple invested 10 pounds for wood screen frame, dyes and linen for creating fabric and further creating Victorian scarves from it, which were not famous at that time. Sooner her printed scarves became popular and were demanded by huge brands of that time in 1954. They explored and expanded their business; both Laura & Ashley together opened the company “Laura Ashley”, the company although first named as “Ashley Mountney”. The first shop was opened in Machynlleth, Powys in 1961. After that more factories were constructed and came into operation, and the business spread to Paris and other cities.
Laura Mountney married Bernard Ashley (Engineer by profession) in 1949 and became Laura Ashley. She met him while doing the job of secretary at “National Federation of Women Institute”. Out of their marriage they had four children, two daughters and 2 sons. All her 4 children were taken over their parents business and helped it flourish.
Death & Aftermath
She was died early at an age of 60 years in 1985 by meeting an accident and went in coma and ultimately died by brain haemorrhage after struggling on ventilator. She was buried at her place of birth “Wales”.
Her legacy continued after her departure, her company went for public issue of shares and was oversubscribed just after 2 months of her death.
Her husbandset up Laura Ashley foundation in 1987 to aspire and inspire new and young talent to fulfil their dreams, the foundation is still doing tremendous work for motivating new aspirants.
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Miguel de la Fuente (1574-1626) O.Carm. Priest
Miguel de la Fuente was born March 2, 1573 in Valdelaguna Spain, about thirty miles from Madrid. He was one of at least 5 children. His parents, Francisco and Caterina were known for their deep faith put into practice, particularly in caring for orphans and widows. The priority in their house was the practice of their Catholic faith. Miguel was an alter server in the parish.
When Miguel was about sixteen, he went to Madrid to study at the Jesuit school. At the age of twenty he entered the novitiate of the Carmelite Order in Valdermoro where his brother was sub-prior. He most likely studied the Institution of the First Monks which at that time was believed to be the primitive Rule of the Order, preceding the actual Rule of St. Albert. Years later, in 1619, he composed a historical compendium of Mary’s Carmel, and he borrowed many elements from this book, especially relating to the Carmel’s historical development in the Church.
Miguel was professed on May 29, 1594 and went to the University of Salamanca to continue his theological studies in preparation for ordination. He was ordained a priest in 1597 at the age of 24. Upon completion of his studies at the University (about 6 years of study), he was assigned to the Carmel in Valladolid as visiting teacher of theology and master of students. After a few years, he was sent to Avila as formator.
He eventually was transferred to the ancient house of San Pablo de la Moraleja, probably the first Carmelite foundation in Castile, where he served as pastor. Here he was able to commit himself to the contemplative life and to serve the poor. He didn’t stay at San Pablo long though, but he was so loved by the people, there was an official protest when he was transferred to Segovia.
In Segovia he was master of novices and became involved with the lay movement which he organized into a ‘congregation’ and for which he wrote the bylaws. Here too, he was committed to be of service to his neighbor, and another protest ensued a few years later when he was transferred to Toldeo where he spent the rest of his life.
Toledo at the time had sixty friars, ten or twelve of which were students, and Fr. Miguel was to take over the novitiate there. His goal was to make the students into men of deep prayer. The main components being the Person of Jesus Christ, the practice of the presence of God, silence and solitude, and devotion for the Blessed Virgin Mary.
He strove to share his spirituality by his witness; especially in showing kindness towards the sick and weak, and this witness proved to be the best teaching. A whole generation of young Carmelites who passed through his novitiate for ten years proved to be an outstanding spiritual force in Spanish Carmel for years afterwards.
In Toledo, as in the other Carmels where Fr. Miguel was, he was an especially effective spiritual director, graced with the gift of discernment of souls; not just to his fellow friars, but for all souls intent on a more serious spiritual life. One such person was Bl. Mary of Jesus, who testified at his beautification process: “His virtue and perfection were greater than what people said about him. In sharing spiritual matters with him… he was able to inspire souls, provide them with light and set them on the correct path towards God”
A favorite subject of meditation for Fr. Miguel was the Passion of the Lord. Beginning with Monday, he outlined 7 phases of the Passion and corresponding virtues to be practiced: The prayer in the Garden and humility; The imprisonment of Jesus and repentance; The flogging at the pillar and patience; The crowning with thorns and meekness; The crucifixion and death of Christ and obedience; The taking down from the cross and love for Jesus Christ; and The resurrection of Christ and hope.
He eventually published a well-known book “Book of the Three Lives of Man, Corporal, Rational and Spiritual”. In the first, Corporal stage, the main concern is to rid oneself of sin and the habits of sin by uprooting the unruly interior inclinations that lead to one’s downfall. This purgative way is marked by a commitment to prayer in the form of the daily offering, the practice of the presence of God during the day, and an examination of conscience in the evening. He urges the use of the imagination in one’s openness to God; Mondays look at God as Creator; Tuesdays as Judge; Wednesday as King; Thursdays as Spouse; Fridays as Creator; Saturdays as Savior.
The second, Rational stage, concentrates on the interior rational person. This illuminative way is characterized by an ever deepening conformity to Christ Jesus who becomes the center of one’s life, affections, and aspirations.
The final, Spiritual stage, Fr. Miguel characterizes a spiritual, intimate life known for its recollection, quiet, silence, solitude, fervent aspirations. With these, the soul is enflamed and burns with the love of God. In this stage, aspirations reach their highest form; God is experienced as the center of one’s being.
“O immense Love, embrace me in your fire.
My one Good, penetrate my interior being.
Unspeakable Delight, take your delight in me.
Let the force of your love completely overwhelm me.
Bind me to yourself with unbreakable bonds.
Whether alive or dead, I will be yours completely”
Fr. Miguel was also dedicated to the lay persons who belonged to the Carmelite Third Order. His book, “Rule and way of life of the men and women tertiaries of Our Lady of Mount Carmel” (Toledo, 1615) turned out to be a milestone in the development of the Third order’s charism in Carmel. Prior to this time, the ideal of tertiaries were to live in the world but as much as possible imitating the life style of the friars and nuns. At the beginning of the 17th century, several authors including Fr. Miguel, began to question this approach. Fr. Miguel believed the Third Order was not meant only for consecrated women, but also for men and for the married. Each tertiary was to take the vow of chastity according to one’s state in life. This approach was to prevail in the Carmelite Order especially under the leadership of Prior General Theodore Stratius.
At the beatification process many tertiaries witnessed to his heroic holiness. Rather than urging the imitation of cloistered life in the world, Fr. Miguel’s Rule for them urged a spirit of prayer, concentrated in several periods of formal prayer.
Throughout his life, the celebration of the Eucharist was at the center of his spiritual way. He understood that such a sublime Mystery demanded assiduous and constant preparation. He could spend three hours preparing for the celebration of Mass. He was known for his desire that the Divine Office be celebrated well and fervently. For him, progress in the spiritual life can be measured by progress in prayer.
Following the teaching of St. John of the Cross, whom Miguel de la Fuente deeply appreciated, he teaches that the most intimate of unions with the Lord Jesus comes in no other way than by a deepening of the effectiveness of the theological virtues. The intelligence is raised to unsuspected heights by faith, the memory by hope and the will by charity.
He was known as someone who cherished recollection to the extent that he seemed to alternate between his cell and chapel. His daily apostolic activities meant that he prayed during the night hours, preferable from ten to four in the morning. He would spend the time before the Blessed Sacrament, either kneeling or standing, lost in contemplation. He was also admired for his life of mortification. He was content with bread and water, a little broth, or a plate of soup. He usually slept on the ground, on boards or a well-worn mattress.
In the middle of August 1625, at the age of fifty-three, Fr. Miguel fell gravely ill while on mission to establish a Carmelite Confraternity in Villarejo de Salvanes. He returned immediately to Toledo and stayed there about a month until his doctor took him into his home where he was taken care of by the Doctor’s sister, a Carmelite tertiary. The last three months of his life, he was assailed by sufferings of all kinds, the worst of which were doubts about the faith. Finally after having celebrated the last rites, his nephew (with the same name) commended his uncle’s soul to the Lord. Fr. Miguel held a crucifix in his hands; an appropriate symbol of his lifelong devotion for the Passion of Christ which he had shared with innumerable souls. He died without apparent agony, closing his eyes at 12:30pm on November 27, 1625.
The cause for his beatification was finished on the diocesan level within ten years of his death. The cause never progressed though which is a mystery that not even the most expert of researchers have been able to explain.
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Great UFO Wave of 1973:
State Columbia, S.C.
Date: Feb. 27, 1973
By Rodger Painter Area News Editor
You might not believe this, and officially they don't exist, but...
A Cherokee County youth, who for obvious reasons asked not to be identified, said he was traveling south on S.C. Highway 18 about 13 miles south of Gaffney about 11:25 p.m. Friday, January 19 when his attention was attracted to a number of various colored lights flashing on and off in the highway directly ahead of his car.
Thinking there had been a wreck and that the lights were signals from wreckers and patrol cars, the youth began slowing his vehicle. However, when he got closer to the scene he was shocked to see that there was no wreck, but that the flashing lights he observed were originating from a domed, saucer-shaped object sitting in the middle of the road and surrounded by about a dozen men.
The youth, who for a moment doubted his sanity and who admittedly was very frightened by what he saw, turned his car to the left onto a secondary road near the object and quickly fled.
In an interview the following Monday night, January 22, the youth said the object, which was supported by three legs or struts and which occupied about three-fourths of the highway, glowed a dark yellow similar to the glow of a light bulb. Extending from the bottom potion of the object was a set of steps or a ladder.
Around the object were about a dozen men, each wearing an outfit resembling white coveralls on which were various buttons, buckles and belts. The men were of average height and had faces the color of Caucasians; each of them appeared to have "jet black" hair. On their hands were what appeared to be white gloves. The witness didn't remember observing their feet.
The men did nothing but stand in their position near the object. Those who were facing in another direction away from the witness slowly turned their heads and looked at the approaching car but showed no particular interest in it.
An unusual fact about the men, one which the witness was reluctant to mention, was that they appeared to waver, much as an object appears to do when viewed through the heat radiating from a heater. As the youth said, "They sort of wiggled like a worm."
The object itself had a curved bottom "like a plate," and a curved or angled upper section capped by a dome. The dome, the witness said, was the most prominent characteristic of the object because of its large size. The position below the dome was thinner as measured from the curved bottom to the base of the dome. The flashing lights, which had been the prelude to the experience, were arranged in a band around the base of the dome. The lights were "all colors - green, blue, red, white" and didn't appear to be arranged in any particular order.
There were no windows or other openings in the object other than in the area where the steps were located. However, that section of the object was turned away from the witness and could not be observed closely. It appeared as though the steps were made into a door, one end of which had dropped from the curved bottom of the object.
The witness said there would not have been enough space for his car to pass under the object and that the men could not have stood beneath it without stooping. He also said a car could not have passed the object on the highway and noted that he had met no other vehicles prior to observing the object.
He estimated that the object covered about three-fourths of the width of the highway, which would place its diameter at 15 feet at least, since the highway pavement in that area measures about 22 feet in width, according to State Highway Department figures.
The height of the object, from its curved bottom to the top of the dome, was judged to be about the same as its width. The object appeared to be constructed of a material resembling fiber glass.
A later visit to the alleged landing site revealed no physical evidence that the reported event actually occurred. However, the youth's story is supported by statements from several other persons who reportedly saw unusual, flying lights in the same area during the same week.
End of article
other relevant newspaper article: source and date unknown
The youngster said he saw 12 men standing around the saucer. They were wearing white coveralls "with buttons, buckles and belts all over the clothing," the youth said. He described them as being of "average height, and all of them with black hair."
They were shaped like "Earthlings." (arms, legs, etc.) but appeared to "wiggle," he said. The undulation were described by Painter as "like seeing something through a gaseous haze."
The dozen men apparently became aware of the youth's presence and turned their heads in "unison," the boy said.
He departed hurriedly. Two of the youth's school teachers said the youth was reliable.
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It is Sunday and almost late afternoon. It was raining before sunrise,and it is still raining now. The rain is falling steadily, as it has all day. No one in these parts ought to complain as it has been a long while since we have had a rainy day-and besides, rain makes the loveliest sound.
I remember the older folks saying that when “rain fell straight. it was set in”-it always rings true, it seems. I knew early on, that I would cook today. I went to the grocery as everyone agreed with my decision. Of course, we started out with Lylas’ favorite “honey cakes”-which are pancakes with a good dose of vanilla, served with honey. I am cooking a peach cobbler now in the oven. Wills’ mom, Miss Claudia loves peaches and so she will have her peaches tonight in a golden crust, dusted with brown sugar. Turnips and potatoes are simmering in a pot, to be creamed later, then smothered in gravy. Peas and stringbeans are cooking as well. Later, I will fry chicken. I have always cooked on rainy days.
To country dwellers, rain means rest. When I first moved to the rabbit patch, we worked from dawn til dusk. We did not have a TV for a while and it didn’t matter one iota, as we wouldn’t have had the fortitude to watch it . We moved just before summer vacation, and there was a lot to do. The first day, we gathered fallen limbs and burned all day long. Then there were scattered bricks, tires and tin piles made. We started a collection of batteries. On and on it went til the territory could be mowed. It was a hard summer, and I went back to school with scratches and bites that year. It did not rain but an hour or so here and there. . .not enough to rest the weary.
In the autumn, there were leaves-a lot of leaves. Ten years ago, we raked-most every day, in the autumn. I would come home, sit my pocketbook on a stump near the drive, and we raked til dark. . .unless it rained. Now, the stump is gone and we mulch the leaves with the mower.
Growing up, in the country on a small farm, the event of rain changed things. Men would take to the tractor shelter to fix things. It is hard for me to know, just what went on, as I avoided the place like a plague. Nothing good ever came from me visiting that place. I was likely to knock something over or the dogs would. Several times, we children were blamed for losing a bolt or screw, that must have been the last one left in the world like it. We were bound to lose the farm on account of it-and there was always the grime that dependably got on shoes to be tracked in the house or ruin a perfectly good outfit. The tractor shelter, best remain a mystery, I thought. Besides, Mama and Grandmama did much more pleasant things when it rained. Often, they cooked a cake or pie. They also opened the chest in the “front bedroom” which was full of discarded clothes, shoes and pocketbooks. Delores and I played for hours pretending we were all grown up . . with children. Our dolls were sick, naughty and had birthdays, depending on our agenda. We went through the button box and sorted them. Back then, buttons were shaped like roses and violets-or they looked like real pearls. There was a lot of variety in the details and so I understand what “cute as a button” means. There was an old photograph box to go through and catalogs from places like Sears & Roebuck and Spiegel. . .and the World Book Encyclopedias, my favorites. If the rains lasted a few days, Grandmama made up stories to tell-many were tragedies that somehow ended miraculously, well. Mama, who is a very clear soprano, taught us songs. . .and I still remember them, today. It is no wonder, that I love rain.
Lyla watched it rain yesterday, from the porch. She painted pictures, til she needed a bath. We watched several ballet classes for three year olds, which Lyla loved. She did a fairly good job of mimicking-and eventually donned a tutu and held a wand, while she did so.
It was still raining at supper time, and with more force. It was windy and the temperature dropped til it was almost cold. Lyla fell asleep early.
Lyla was up before the morning broke. When the sun came up, it shone brilliantly over the village by the river. Today, for the first time in a long while, it is cold. What a clamor came from the yard! Robins and blue jays were every where and ever so often, a squirrel would scamper through with a large acorn in its’ mouth. It was a fantastic show and Lyla loved it!
After Lyla had her “honey cakes” we all gathered our warm clothing. We plan to visit Miss Claudia and will probably take a “Halloween Eve” stroll. I hope to see Miss Thelma and then I will return to the “rabbit patch” . . . over three rivers and past wood and field, through several small towns . . .under a very blue sky, while a cold wind blows.
I have at long last, attended another “early service”. Week days do not afford such luxury. There is too much commotion on days like Tuesday, at the rabbit patch. Animals need to go out and then fed-and everybody has somewhere to be. Alarms ring out warnings and coffee is brewing. No matter how early I rise, at some point, it comes down to a commotion.
This morning was a sharp contrast to all of that-at least for me. I am in Elizabeth City, for the first time in three weeks-yes, I have counted the days. The “early service”, I attended this morning, was in Jennys’ backyard. My morning came peacefully, but I witnessed all sorts of frantic activity under the oldest tree in the yard. Some doves were grazing peacefully and did not seem to have a bit of quarrel in them-til the squirrels showed up. The doves took off in great haste crying out in distress. This is the habit of doves-they always are “quiet as church mice” til they take to the air. Many a dove has startled me on my walks by field and wood. The squirrels took no notice but went straight away to the business of the task at hand-gathering nuts and acorns, to hoard up for the barren days of winter. Some robins were curious about the racket and came to join in. It made me wonder if the first frost is not so far away.
Jenny had a late morning appointment and Will took Lyla out, so I put on a pot of chicken and broccoli soup. I busied myself with some light housekeeping and writing, while they were away. The chatter in the back yard had been settled by the time I went out again-and just in time to see a small flock of blackbirds peppering up the sky in a poetic fashion. Thick white clouds filtered the light allowing slight shadows. One day I will have a good camera and capture such moments. I was sorry when the blackbirds left-they are so very lovely. Blackbirds flying trigger a memory for me, that I hope to always remember.
I was much younger then. I had been left alone-stranded, it felt. My young husband had died. I was hurt and very scared. I was also so very disappointed as I had prayed fervently for a miracle. What I wanted seemed best for everybody. I made a meager income, intended to supplement the household. I had five precious children to raise-and one morning, I told God how I felt about it. I was out behind a garden shed, right about this time of year. I pleaded my case and concluded that everything I had hoped for was lost. Surely I would not find any beauty to life again-God had taken from me, I thought . . .just about that time, a very large flock of blackbirds flew overhead. They swirled in to one pattern after another and I stopped complaining as I watched them. I thought how beautiful they were-and suddenly I laughed . I do not worry that the moment may seem insignificant-for me it was not. I never see a flock of blackbirds, that I do not remember that morning, now many years ago, when blackbirds were on the wing.
By noon, all had safely gathered in. The soup was ready and we all thought it was especially good. The thick clouds of the morning parted and sunlight dappled in the little lane beside the house. The patches of sky that the clouds revealed, were a brilliant shade of blue-the shade only seen in October. It was the perfect day for a long walk.
I took Lyla the longest way around the village, before ending up at the river. On the way, we collected yellow leaves and red ones too. We found a confederate jasmine blooming like it was June, and so we picked a few blossoms. We also took a sprig from a cedar tree, because it smelled like Christmas. We came across some elaborate Halloween decorations. Lyla said the ghosts, which were swaying in the light breeze, were spooky. There was a life size witch in one yard and Lyla did not want to tarry near there. Lyla did like the bright jack-o-lanterns with friendly faces that we met on the way.
The river was as blue as I have ever seen it. The sun was almost bright and the clouds were the cumulus kind. They were a stark white and floated lazily above us. Lyla was freed from the confinement of her stroller to run as she pleased on the large grassy lot by the “river that laughs”. She walked on the wide timbers that are used to mark the parking area, for a good while. She has certainly improved on her sense of balance, I noticed. We met a friendly lady with a friendly dog, named “Boo”. He looked like a toy. We walked a short ways together until we reached the home of the friendly lady. Lyla and I walked just a few minutes more and then we were back where we started. We went in and Lyla wasted no time showing off our souvenirs. Lyla told the story of our afternoon as she presented each one to Jenny.
We are all collecting souvenirs, on our journey, I thought. Sometimes they are things like leaves-sometimes they are the smell of hyacinths or wood smoke . . . and sometimes they are things like a sky full of blackbirds.
Fried cornbread is a staple in the south. It may be elsewhere too -and masquerading by some other name, for all I know. If you serve barbecue, you have to fry cornbread, too. It also pairs well with cabbage and collards. . .and ham. Many readers asked what fried cornbread was. The rabbit patch does it this way.
The recipe is quite simple, but cooking cornbread is not for the “faint of heart”. Do not even think about leaving the stove once you start-and you can not make this ahead of time, either. Cornbread does not keep. I I have yet to find any use for left over fried cornbread. Do not think this particular cornbread is ideal for stiffing a turkey. . . it is not. It does not crumble and is likely to toughen.
I do not know that cornbread is healthy, but I do know it has never killed anybody. It is a comfort food and sometimes that is the biggest benefit of a meal.
I will go ahead and state, I rarely measure anything-unless I am baking bread. . .so good luck. In a skillet pour vegetable oil so that it covers the bottom graciously. There should be enough oil so that some of it will rise above the batter. While the oil is heating, mix about a cup of corn meal-I like stone ground, but have even used self rising. Thin cornbread is very desirable and most likely to occur using stone ground. Some of you will be in a bind right now, as I hear this product is not found every where. I add a good bit of salt, as cornmeal is bland, and a generous amount of black pepper. You should be able to see the pepper when you have mixed these dry ingredients. Now you add hot water and stir as you do so. The consistensy should be more loose than cake batter and fluid enough to easily pour. Do not concern yourself with doubt about this-Whatever the appearance, the batter will fry. I usually add an egg now, so the concoction binds and does not shatter into pieces when cooked. The oil should be hot, to the point it about worries you, when you pour the batter. I make mine like the size of small pancakes. I look for bubbles to form, to know when to turn it, just as if it really were pancakes. This should be a quick process -and do not answer the phone, while you are cooking. Drain on paper towels and call everybody to the table.
My mama can bake cornbread that turns out about as crispy as the fried. I can not, though I aim to learn. Mamas’ turns out thin and full of flavor and gosh it is probably easier on the nerves. When I do I will let you know . . .you just have to find cornmeal. In October, when it is dark by supper, and the air is chilled . . corn bread is especially good.
Of all the Octobers, I have ever known, this one may be “the fairest of them all”. The days have been mostly bright and the nights have been cool and very dark. Of course, there was the beautiful “harvest moon” and since then the sky has been splattered with shining silver stars. For a few nights, stars dashed across the sky, though I never saw one. I have seen the “morning star”- and made wishes on it, too.
The countryside fairly glows in the light of October. The air is crisp and sweet and makes it feel sinful, not to take notice. Fields are silent places, for now the soil gets a well deserved rest. I grew up on a small farm. Sadly, small farms are “few and far between” now. My maternal grandfather, known as “Pop” had a few tractors and a huge barn. There were shelters for the tractors and tools. He had a smokehouse and pastures, too. Along with the fields and woods, this was my playground. . . with the exception of the tractor shelter. It was dirty and I could not so much as walk through it, without getting something on my clothes, which Mama declared “would never come out”. Another reason, I steered clear, was there was always a commotion of some sort, which I believe Pop would often start. Something was always broken, it seemed. Pop had a short fuse under such circumstances and was liable to cuss. If my sister and I were underfoot, so were the dogs. If Pop couldn’t find something, he was sure we had messed with it. This was never true, as neither Delores nor I cared for the grime and grease of the tools. We did use the vice to crack pecans and walnuts, occasionally-especially if Pop was on a tractor in a distant field. We were long gone, if we heard the tractor coming. October, was a different affair, though.
The garden was plowed up and the pantry was full, in October. The tobacco had been sold at the warehouse. School had started back and so I had to act civilized on a regular basis. I wore dresses with matching sweaters and shoes not fit to climb in. After school, while Mama was cooking supper, I would visit with Pop and Grandmama. School seemed a very artificial life compared to my “home-life.” I was homesick every day. Grandmama looked at magazines in October-and Pop “piddled”. He was most often in what we called “the lot”. The lot was the territory encircled by all the barns and shelters. A small grove of silver maples grew in the center of it and the edge of the pastures ran around it. While the tractor engines were cold, Pop sharpened axes and fixed kitchen table chairs. He had a burn pile to burn limbs. Pop did not show any signs of a temper- in October.
Pop was born in October-on the twenty-sixth in 1913. He was one of ten children. He went to school til sixth grade, which wasn’t all that unusual for a farmers’ child, in those days. He did all sorts of complicated math “in his head” and was always quicker than those who used paper. I remember him calculating how much fertilizer he needed per acre quickly. He read the “Progressive Farmer” faithfully and listened to country music by people like Patsy Cline and Hank Williams. He ate “gingersnaps” and dropped peanuts in cokes. He rode spirited horses and had a guitar he played around with. He was proud of that guitar and didn’t allow me to hardly touch it. . .but I did every chance I got.
Pop lived long enough to see my first three children. He was in his seventies. Grandmama had passed more than a decade earlier. He died on a frosty morning in March. . . He was in his yard . . .just piddling. In October, when the dogwoods turn shades of red and fields are quiet . . . I always remember Pop.
Sunday is another time I love-especially the morning, when “Sunday Dinner” is cooking. I did not plan to write in the diary this morning, but when I had put the ham in the oven and stringbeans on the stove, all sorts of thoughts came to me. I realised it is just second nature for me, to write while I am cooking. Of course, it must be slow cooked food. I dare not cook bacon or biscuits, as such things are liable to burn, while I am “finding my words”. Christian has learned to keep vigil over the stove, if I am writing. It is the same with music. Once, I was learning a new piece on the violin while supper cooked. My husband came in with a look of sheer panic. The house was filled with smoke and I had not even noticed! After that, he always said I would “fiddle, while Rome burned. ” Jamie died in his thirties. Had he lived, there would have never been loose tin on the barns at the rabbit patch.
I waited to fry the cornbread til Mama called and said they were on the way. Cornbread does not keep. I was putting it on the table when they came in. I made the pineapple dessert I had eaten at “Homecoming”. I had guessed at the recipe, and it turned out anyway.
Mama and Daddy left to go listen to music, played in a barn. One day, am going, too-but today, I cleared the table and decided I would mow. The grass has dramatically slowed down, but the weather was perfect and when I heard a neighbor start their mower, well that cinched it.
When I went out, I would have sworn it was late March. The grass was tender and so green, beneath the leaves. The air was a little damp and cool. I saw a patch of clover by the stable and then caught a whiff of something familiar, but out of place. It was the wild honeysuckle. A few blossomed here and there- and I felt young again and drank the scent in, as if I was perished. I was really surprised to see a few apple blossoms, when I mowed in the little orchard – It seemed that there was quite a masquerade, on this day, at the rabbit patch.
The french mulberry is dull now with muted berries and the autumn joy has stopped boasting altogether. I frightened the rabbit community when I took to mowing the wooded path. They scattered hither and yonder . How they run straight away into briers and bracken, at break neck speed is beyond me. The country rabbits are not friendly like their cousins in Elizabeth City, I thought
I made good time mowing today. At last, a belt came off, and being almost finished, I didn’t even try to repair it. As Cash and I walked back to the house, I made mental notes of things to be done before cold weather sets in. This is a lovely place I thought, as I looked around. It is hard not to feel a great affection, for a place you have tended for more than a decade. It is some sort of relationship. Is it because I have worked the soil- and I know where the wild violets will grow? The trees that give shade for the weary in July, are like old friends, now. The land has fed us too, and that makes a difference. Whatever was on my mind, the garden knew about it-and the “Quiet Garden” knows my secrets.
Cash was so glad I was finished and he was “off duty”. No rabbit got me this day! He ran and jumped around. I loved him for being so loyal, all over again.
Tomorrow is Monday and that changes everything. I will drive past pasture and field, through the woods and into the small town, where I work. . .and at the end of the day, I will go back to the place I call home-an old house in the country, where rabbits run wild and an apple tree blooms out of season.
It is morning and the sun is proclaiming it brightly. I love weekend mornings for they are born without haste. I do not consult the clock on days like Saturday. I like these moments when time does not try to “escape” from me and I live as I please, for a while. For now, I am content to drink coffee at the morning table while Cash and Christopher Robin doze. I listen to a bird sing, and though I listen intently, I cannot identify the species . . and I plan Sunday dinner. I think about Christmas. . .and I wonder about a lot of things-and before I know it, I realize I ought to turn the lamp off.
I never did rush one iota. Breakfast time passed, so we had a brunch, instead. I went about my tasks as”if I had all day”, because for “once in a blue moon”, had come,- and I did. Clothes washed while I swept floors. I like housekeeping and derive great satisfaction from clean floors and fresh linens. It is a lot more pleasant to do chores without the desperation that so often accompanies them.
The farmhouse seems so much bigger now than it did when I bought it. I scrubbed the bedroom that was my grandmothers. Mostly,the room is vacant except for the holidays. I tried to work quickly as I am so prone to becoming overly sentimental. The room is now a cheerful shade of periwinkle, with an adorable white sleigh bed. I battled cobwebs and dust while Christopher Robin slept peacefully, in the den. At random intervals, I had coffee laced with cinnamon and table cream. Through the windows I saw a leaf flutter by occasionally. Not one was in any sort of hurry, so we had that in common. On top of everything else, I noticed the windows needed washing.
By later in the afternoon, I was washing the blankets and bedding for the animals. Christian took a few pictures for the realtor, as each room was tidied. Supper would be light tonight, but I would make up for that with Sunday dinner.
As daylight faded, I was pleased with what had been accomplished. Tonight, I plan to make sense of the Christmas Closet, and record an account of what has been bought thus far. I think waiting for Christmas and Thanksgiving, is half the fun.
At long last, I turned the lamp on as evening had turned to night. In the absence of moonlight, the countryside is “pitch dark”. If it were a tad cooler, I would be tempted to start a small fire in the little fireplace, in the den. Instead, I will wait til the weather warrants a cheerful fire.
It has been a good day, I think. I have not solved a mystery, nor made any grand discovery . It was just an ordinary day, full of ordinary events. .. but it is nothing less than beautiful to be able to write, that “all is well at the rabbit patch.”
Dear Diary, I am glad for unfamiliar bird songs sung at first light. I am glad for the beauty of ordinary days and the soft way they fade, until at last they become dark, autumn nights . . .and a little light burning, makes all the difference.
These are the kind of days that made October famous. From the early hours til dusk, it has just been lovely. Typically, October is a flashy month, by all accounts. Not yet has it reached its’ peak here, but today my faith in October was restored. Last night, was especially cool-so much that I put the windows down. . .and the fan was put back in the closet. I kept a substantial sweater on all day, though remember , I have spent my life in the south-and the sixties are chilly, to me.
The arrival of the first frost remains a mystery, but we are nearer to it than we were just a short while ago. When the frost comes, it fades the rose and puts a halt on tender sprouts. Frost tames the wild southern vines, which does not make me sorry. Frost also gives the countryside a sparkle-and makes me want to build a fire in the garden. When the time comes to burn a small fire, I will call Rae, as she loves a fire so. While, I am waiting for frost, I will gather roses.
As autumn chills the territory around the rabbit patch, my thoughts turn to home and hearth. The old farmhouse is hardly a glamorous dwelling, but its’ charm “covers a multitude of sins”. . . and especially in October. Books and china teacups grace the morning table. Soft blankets are draped on chairs and sofas-and lamps are turned on before supper. Sauces simmer, that will smother foods like slow roasted chicken. Pots of dried beans and hearty chowders are staples at the rabbit patch, starting in October. I know of few things better, than coming in from the cold, to a warm kitchen that smells like supper.
The sky reflects the season, along with the field and woodland. Stars are sparsely scattered, now and the constellations make their presence known. They are unhindered by the millions of stars, the sky hosts in the summer. Before sunrise, now, Venus is directly below the crescent moon. It is as bright as I have ever seen it and truly, even out stages the moon.
Brant is Home!
Brant came home today! This made Thursday, a holiday for me. He and Sydney are on the way to a wedding in Virginia. Mama and Daddys’ house is almost “on the way” and so we all met up at my parents for an evening meal. Afterwards, Christian played the piano, Sydney worked on a portrait of Lyla, she is drawing and I wrote a bit in the diary. We sat in the living room while we we worked on our “art” and hardly spoke, but later agreed we had loved those moments. Sidney and I eventually sang along with Christian as he played . Kyle and Christian left after the singing, but I spent the night, again, where I grew up. . .and I was late for work, the next morning.
First, I woke up late. The room I slept in did not allow the light of morning to stream through the window, heralding the new day. The house was silent as no one was going anywhere-and there wasn’t a cat or dog, that needed to go out. All seemed fine, til I looked at a clock. . .full of judgement, I add. I could not find my hairbrush nor my keys. I just quit rushing. Late is late, and so what did it matter if it were ten minutes or twenty? Besides, the time with my family would not allow me any regrets. I was with my children, and I saw my parents happy . . . I must remember, from here on out, that October is a lovely time for a “holiday “. The weather is lovely and the landscape seems set to celebrate, on any given day.
Dear Diary, I am glad for bright days and dark, cool evenings when stars are sparsely scattered. I am glad for times when loved ones gather. . . to share a meal-and then to sing. I am especially glad that Brant came home.
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History of Laughlin Army Air Field ……. What was once a portion of one of Southwest Texas’ largest ranches is now the site of the Army Air Forces’ first pilot school for B-26 Marauders – the world’s fastest medium bomber and one of the deadliest planes in combat. Construction of the field started in mid-1942 and the first men moved into barracks in late December of that year. Originally intended to be a school for bombardiers, the field was activated on October 29, 1942 as the Army Air Forces Bombardier School, Del Rio, Texas, with Lt. Col. E. W. Suarez commanding. Headquarters were first set up in offices at the United States Federal Building in Del Rio during October with a small number of officers, enlisted men and civilian employes assigned. Movement to the field was effected late in December. On December 26, 1942, command of the post was assumed by Col. George W. Mundy, the present commanding officer. Already selected as the first Marauder pilot school to be established in the world – on February 2, 1943, the field was re-designated the Army Air Forces Transition Flying School, Medium Bombardment, later to be changed to Army Air Forces Pilot School ( Specialized 2-Engine ), its designation today. Flying training started early in February, 1942, shortly after the arrival of Lt. Col. James E. Roberts, first Director of Training. Early in March, 1943, through the efforts largely of Colonel Mundy, the Commanding Officer, the pilot school was named Laughlin Army Air Field by the War Department. It was so named in honor of the late Lt. Jack Thomas Laughlin, of Del Rio, who was killed in action in the Far East on January 29, 1942. On March 28, 1943, impressive dedicatory ceremonies were held at which Maj. Gen. Gerald C. Brant, Commanding General of the Army Air Forces Gulf Coast Training Center, was principal speaker. The late Lieutenant Laughlin’s widow, parents and daughter were honor guests. The field is now turning out large classes of expert Marauder pilots every nine weeks. Students at Laughlin Field are commissioned officers who have already earned their wings at advanced flying schools throughout the country. Their training at Laughlin Field consists of both flying and ground school.
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Sabbath & Sanctuary
The kitchen was the first room in our new house to get completely set up and "live-in" ready. Considering it's the one place where everyone tends to gather, it was a good choice to be finished first.
When you are moving, it's important to get at least one room completely finished and looking the way it should. It becomes your island in the middle of the chaos, the one place you can go to sit down and breathe for a while before wading back into it.
You might say that such a place acts as a sanctuary.
I looked up the formal definition of the word sanctuary and discovered that it means "a place of refuge or safety." I would also add as part of my own definition, "a place of refuge or safety where you find peace."
When I was in seventh grade I used to ride my bike to a small Lutheran church that was not far from my house. I was always careful to go there when I was sure not to find a soul around. There was something about that place that spoke to me. I felt peace when I sat on the steps, leading into the church.
At the time, my parents were considering selling our house and moving to another town. There was so much up in the air, and I felt a certain amount of chaos swirling around me. Those trips to that Lutheran church always seemed to make me feel better.
I hadn't thought about that church in years, until this morning.
It occurred to me that so much of what we need when we are searching for sanctuary, rest and peace is simply a way of keeping Sabbath. In the busy-ness of our culture we have lost so much of what it means to understand and keep the Sabbath.
The Fourth Commandment simply states, "Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy." But what it means, if we dig deeper into it, is that we are to live a Sabbath lifestyle. There has to be set aside time for us to enjoy Sabbath, and special places (sanctuaries) where we best keep it.
Where is your sanctuary? Where is your place of refuge in the eye of life's storm? If you can't identify such a place, then you should. And once you do, use it to practice leading a Sabbath lifestyle--pushing back against the world's demands, breathing, pausing to worship and simply be.
And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you now and always. Amen.
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[It’s high time I posted some more of the Tale of Ayla here. This is super skipping ahead in the tale, but it has been waaaaay too long since I posted something Ayla related. Please enjoy :)]
This is the story of Ayla and the Blue Knight.
During her long travels, Ayla came to the Kingdom of Caerse, on the banks of the Elisan River. She arrived on the day before midsommer, and the city was bursting with all manner of folk, who had come from far and wide to join the festivities.
You see, the Kingdom of Caerse held a great tournament every year on the feast of midsommer. The king of Cearse, being a wealthy and generous king, bestowed handsome and lavish gifts upon the winners of this tournament. The year that Ayla arrived, he had promised something rarer than jewels and more precious than gold to the champion of midsommer. The king’s own magic belt, which stories say held anything the wearer needed within its pockets, would be the prize.
Ayla had no interest in this prize of course. Magic is a rare and wondrous thing to most mortals, but to Ayla, who had traveled the breadth of the Witch-haven, magic was as common as rain, and she knew better than to be greedy in seeking out such things.
No, Ayla had not come to fight, she had come to watch. To eat, drink, and to make merry with the people of Caerse. So Ayla came to an inn, and inquired after a room and a bath, for she had been long on the road.
As she entered the inn, the people of Caerse marveled at the young woman, no more than 16 winters, clad in dark bronze colored armor, wrapped in a tattered blood red cloak, and carrying a green warhammer.
Ayla did not like being greeted this way. She strode forward and the crowd of the inn parted before her, revealing a young man not much older than Ayla. He had the look of a nobleman, clean and well dressed in a blue tunic.
“Have I made a joke, good sir?” Ayla could see the man was a knight, and was confused why he would be laughing at her.
“I should say. Quite a good one too. I did not know the king sent his jestress out among the people on midsommer,” he laughed again.
“Oh? Do tell me. What is the jest,” Ayla said frowning.
The knight stifled his laughter, held up his hands and made hasty apologies. He told Ayla that she had the look of a foreigner, and so perhaps she need to be told after all. He then explained, not unkindly he thought, that in his part of the world, a woman dressed in such attire “like a man” was quite amusing indeed.
Ayla intended to dismiss him as simply rude, but she began to see nodding and smiles from the many gathered there. She hesitated, wondering if perhaps she was is the wrong. If she was perhaps breaking some important local custom.
She very nearly apologized, until the knight said, “I should hope you do not plan to carry this jest to the games master. It would be a shame to see you hurt.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?” Ayla said aghast.
“Perhaps there are women knights where you come from, young lady, but here knights are men. And men hit harder than women. You shall find yourself very soon outclassed,” he laughed.
Ayla stared in disbelief at this man. She had no patience for the Art, but she had been around witches and wizards long enough to know how to glimpse the true nature of another, for it is not so much a working of magic as simply knowing how to look at a thing.
This man brought Ayla to mind of a rotted fruit. One that looked pleasant enough on the outside, but was horrid within.
Ayla smiled at the man and said only “Good day” before retiring to her room.
The next day at dawn, when the tournament began, the knight in the blue tunic had donned his armor. Heavy steel plate, polished with an art that made it brilliant blue and wonderful to behold. He was a very wealthy knight, but had also earned his skill through years of training and war.
Ayla too, came to the tournament, In her ancient looking, tarnished armor. She gained entry from the game master, who acknowledged Ayla’s point that no law in Caerse forbade woman from the contest.
Throughout the day, both Ayla and the blue knight defeated many opponents on the field of battle. Though many who fought Ayla blamed their losses on her magic hammer and armor, none could deny her skill in combat and many more conceded that Ayla was the better warrior.
It came to the final bout, where only Ayla and blue knight remained. Even as the blue knight’s squires refastened his resplendent armor, Ayla undid her own. She left the armor, her hammer, and even her cloak behind has she took the field. She was determined that no one mistake this victory for one of her magical raiment over mortal one. Instead, she took the field holding only a lady’s shawl.
The blue knight scowled. He had watched with some amusement the fights of Ayla earlier in the tournament, but now, in his mind, the jest had gone too far. He decided he would have to teach this wench a lesson with the flat of his blade over her backside. Then she would be sorry she dared to mock him.
They met at the center of the field. They both saluted the king of Caerse, then Ayla saluted her opponent. The blue knight did not. Instead, he charged, swinging at Ayla with the flat of his blade.
And he hit nothing.
He swung again. Still he hit nothing. Again and again he swung, and each time Ayla stepped just beyond his blade.
Those watching laughed raucously at the display. The woman in the shawl dancing past his attacks like children playing a game. “How amusing,” they cried.
Then Ayla struck him.
Not the closed fist strike of a jab or a wild punch. Ayla struck the blue knight’s helm with the back of her open hand. Hard enough to make him stumble, and certainly hard enough to injure her own hand. But the laughter stopped.
The woman had slapped the blue knight. Like a parent to a petulant child, she had slapped him.
The blue knight roared with unbridled fury and turned his blade, no longer interested in leaving welts but deep cutting wound instead. The king’s game master stood, prepared to call a halt to the duel.
Ayla dodged the wild swing as easily as ever, but this time made sure her shawl looped around the wrist of the knight’s sword arm. Ducking under the arm and to the knight’s back, Ayla pulled on the shawl to bring the arm with her. The knight stumbled again. Ayla seized the moment and the knight’s other hand, looping the shawl over it as well. She pulled tight the knot around the blue knight’s wrists. Ayla’s foot caught his like a hook and a quick shove sent the blue knight face down into the dirt.
Ayla quickly brought her knees into the blue knight’s back and took a knife from the knight’s belt. She cut the straps of his helmet and cast it aside.
His helm removed, and the naked steel of his own knife before his face, the blue knight wept and cried out, “I yield!”
And so it was that Ayla won the midsommer tournament of the Kingdom of Caerse, though she had not gone seeking to do so. She was rewarded for her triumph over the blue knight with the magic belt of the king.
Ayla did not keep the belt though. Instead, she gave it away.
To the youngest princess of Caerse. Who would have her own legend I’m sure, but that is another story all together.
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You’re playwright Eric Coble. You’ve spent two decades getting more than 40 original plays and adaptations produced on six out of seven continents and racking up numerous awards. Now, it’s April 2012, and Estelle Parsons is lined up to perform the lead role in a reading of your first Broadway-bound play. No worries, right?
Coble still shudders at the memory of the looming catastrophe. Larry Kaye, Broadway producer, had enlisted Molly Smith, artistic director of Washington, D.C.’s Arena Stage, to direct Academy Award winner Parsons and Tony Award winner Stephen Spinella in the reading of his high-intensity two-hander The Velocity of Autumn.
Previously produced in Boise and Cleveland (where Coble is based), the play captures Alexandra, an age-challenged woman fighting to keep her home and sense of self, in a surprise encounter with her son Chris, who breaks into her Park Slope apartment to prevent his mother from executing her threats to blow it all sky high with Molotov cocktails. Parsons liked the script when she read it, but wanted to hear it before she would commit. Now, the rehearsal room at the Arena was charged with a sense of “If Estelle says ‘yes,’ then it’s probably a go. If she says ‘no,’ then we will have to rethink it.”
On her day off from the musical Nice Work If You Can Get It on Broadway, Parsons traveled by train to D.C. with a tired, sore throat, greeting all with whispers that she was sorry, but she was very sick and would do her best. As she quietly curled into her chair with a cup of tea and her script, Coble’s hopes sank. “Great,” he thought, “she’s got 90 minutes of talking and big emotion. This is going to go really well.”
Then it went really well. As the play opens, Alexandra, asleep in her favorite chair, is startled by Chris, who climbs a tree to sneak in her window. “Estelle screamed, ‘Get out of my house!’ full out,” Coble says, incredulous. “She went to level 10 immediately, laying waste to him—she was just on fire for 45 minutes.” Afterwards, he thought: That’s what professionals do.
“It was really astonishing,” Coble continues. “As soon as it was finished, Estelle fell back into whispering about how she was sick and how sorry she was. It was a total shock.”
For her part, Parsons recalls, “I was amazed, too, because I was not really up to things, and the play starts at such a high level, and you can’t start it if you’re not up there. It’s a trap for an actress, because if you want to start slow and build up, you can’t. I found that so interesting to do, and see where it led on this wild journey through the play.”
The Velocity of Autumn is the third of Coble’s “Alexandra Plays,” which the writer labels a triptych, not a trilogy, since they examine the same woman at three different points in her life—paradoxically, in the same year. The first, A Girl’s Guide to Coffee, features Alex, a 20-something wrestling with her artistic bent and desire to explore the world while toiling as a barista. The second, Stranded on Earth, takes place about 20 years later, when Alexa is a frustrated painter dealing with her role as wife, mother and commercial graphic designer and wondering whether putting down roots was the right choice.
“I was intrigued by the idea of how your identity, relationship to the world and commitment to art change as you age,” Coble explains.
The story for the third play was inspired by his experiences with his aging mother, who, with his help, remains in her home close to his, as well as with his grandparents, neighbors and even older actors he knows. “Alexandra’s a fiction based on about a hundred personal truths,” he states.
Of the embattled mother and son, director Molly Smith (who is also making her Broadway directing debut) observes, “The two characters have the conversations we wish we could have with our parents and grandparents who are aging and going through these huge life transitions.”
After the great success of the D.C. reading, the team did a second reading in New York in December of 2012 and had hoped to open the play on Broadway in the spring of 2013. The only theatre available had 1,400 seats, which Smith and Kaye felt was too large for the intimate play. Instead, Smith got the play scheduled at Arena for fall 2013.
Coble worked closely with her on refining the script, and after seeing nearly 20 performances of the highly successful production at Arena, made a few “surgical as opposed to sledgehammer” rewrites in anticipation of a Broadway production. In December, Kaye formalized a deal with the Shuberts for the 780-seat Booth Theatre, where the show is set to open April 21.
“Even though everyone wanted to go last spring, everything has gotten better because we waited that year,” Coble says.
Previews start on April 1, and those who know the wry-witted Coble appreciate the April Fools connection. “He’s one of the funniest people I know,” says Kenn McLaughlin, producing artistic director at Stages Repertory Theatre in Houston, where Coble has had many productions. “When we are together, he can make me laugh until my sides hurt.”
Although Coble built his early career on dark, violent comedies such as Bright Ideas and The Dead Guy, he went on to develop three other distinct styles—adaptations and children’s plays; his “WTF” plays, like My Barking Dog, which feature magic realism and leave audiences either entertained and enlightened or confounded and concerned; and his more recent “talky dramas” like The Velocity of Autumn.
“There’s a maturity in the plays he’s written in the past two or three years,” McLaughlin notes. “These characters express themselves with a much greater sense of realism than some of the earlier plays that elevated their comic elements. But what undergirds all of it is a real respect and understanding of the humanity the characters are fighting for.”
The evolving, mid-career playwright says he’s enjoying always learning, and he doesn’t labor too much over the concern by some that he should just write “Coble-style” plays. “For whatever reason, I feel constitutionally unable to stick to that,” he declares.
Coble’s own twisting trek toward Broadway started in 1968, when he was born in Edinburgh, Scotland. His mother, Jan, serving in the U.S. Air Force in Iceland at the time, had done her research and learned that Scotland had a lower infant mortality rate than the U.S. Roughly two years later, Jan decided to teach on a Navajo reservation, based purely on caprice, as was her wont, Coble says, adding that to this day he’s still not sure why: “There was no tie other than her desire to be there.”
They started in Shiprock, N.M., then did several scene transitions through tiny towns in different parts of the Navajo reservation and one Ute settlement, all in the Four Corners region of the Southwest, until he was 15. His official entry into the theatre life, he claims, occurred when he was in high school in Ignacio, Colo. (pop. 700). In his 15th summer, he and several friends, inspired by Raiders of the Lost Ark, decided to stage a stunt-filled spectacular for their parents, featuring bike riders crashing into trees and jumping off garages. The “accident-o-rama” closed early, when the audience collectively screamed, “Stop! That’s enough!”
The addiction, however, had taken hold. “I remember that evening just being on this high for a couple of hours,” Coble says. “That was really cool. We should do that again!”
The Cobles relocated to Durango, Colo. (pop. 11,000), where his sophomore-year performance in Damn Yankees confirmed his desire to be an actor. While attending Fort Lewis College there, he fed his theatre jones by majoring in English but with a minor in acting. He did as many shows as he could get cast in, and even performed in the evenings and summers for a resident company founded by two New York actors.
Working on everything from Shakespeare to Shepard gave Coble a chance to “absorb, absorb, absorb” the diverse styles, words and rhythms of plays from the inside out. “I learned everything I could about acting, and, unbeknownst to me, learned everything I could about playwriting at the same time, because I was listening closely to the language,” he says.
Looking back, he sees even earlier playwriting roots on the reservation, where his mother fostered the Native American storytelling tradition with her son and her students. She kept a scrapbook to record stories that little Eric would imagine and then provide accompanying stick-figure illustrations.
Still in his acting phase after graduating from Fort Lewis College, Coble enrolled (“on impulse,” he says) in Ohio University’s MFA program. His arrival in Athens via Greyhound bus in the fall of 1990 marked his first time in Ohio and his farthest point east. His second year, Coble needed a class, so he signed up for playwriting. Then he entered a script into OU’s annual new-play festival—“very autobiographical and a farce,” he says with a big smile. He also had an epiphany: The experience of having his play well received by fellow students for its two-night run was analogous to his stunt spectacle at 15, minus the bruises and broken ribs. “I don’t think I’ve ever said this before,” he says, “but that feeling afterwards was very similar: ‘Oh, I’d like to do more of this.’”
Still not convinced that he was a playwright, Coble spent his third year as an acting intern at the Cleveland Play House, part of OU’s program to provide professional experience and enable students to earn an Equity card. (He got his MFA in acting, but OU later adopted him as a playwright alum as well.)
Coble liked the Cleveland theatre landscape and the fact that it was an affordable, artist-friendly city, and his wife Carol Laursen moved from Massachusetts to join him on the North Coast and take a job in a diagnostic laboratory at University Hospitals Case Medical Center. Coble accepted a position as an actor-teacher at Cleveland’s other LORT member, Great Lakes Theater Festival (now Great Lakes Theater).
Realizing the city was also a great place to raise kids, they decided to remain, and they purchased a house in classic Coble fashion: sight unseen. “It was a neighborhood we wanted to be in,” he shrugs. The couple has been married for 19 years and they have a son in college and a daughter in high school. Concerned about his community’s schools, Coble ran for a school board position and is near completing his six-year term. “If you’re going to put down roots somewhere, you might as well really put them down,” he says.
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On the night before his crucifixion, Jesus shared a meal with his disciples. Since this was the last in a series of meals he shared with them during his ministry, it’s known as the last supper. The disciples were discouraged when Christ said he would not eat with them again until the kingdom comes (Luke 22:18). The thought of their intimate fellowship with him coming to an abrupt end filled them with sadness.
At the time, they failed to realize that even though Christ was about to depart from this world and return to his Father, they were not going to be completely cut off from fellowship with him. To the contrary, it was better for them that Christ should depart because, after his departure, he would send the Holy Spirit to abide with them forever (John 16:7).
Christ assured them that through the Holy Spirit, they would continue to enjoy the most intimate kind of fellowship with him. In the person of the Spirit, Christ himself would come to them and commune with them. That’s why, before he ascended into heaven, he said to them, “Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matt. 28:20).
Christ not only promised to give the disciples the Holy Spirit, he also instituted a sacred meal through which they could continue to enjoy table fellowship with him, even after his departure. This meal, which is known as the Lord’s Supper (1 Cor. 11:20), was given to the church as a perpetual, sacred ordinance of public worship. Christ commanded his church to “do this”; that is, “eat this bread and drink the cup” as a regular part of public worship “until he returns” (1 Cor. 11:24–26).
Hence, on the night in which he was betrayed, Jesus not only shared a meal with his disciples (the last supper), he instituted a meal (the Lord’s Supper) as a sacrament through which he would continue to have table fellowship and communion with the saints by his Spirit.
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A survivor from Poland, Karol’s experience is different from many of the Polish Jews we have interviewed. When the war closed in, Karol and most of his immediate family made their way east, into the Soviet zone – his story reminds us of the Polish partition. From eastern Poland they entered the USSR, where they continued to push to the east, past Stalingrad. Most of the family ended up in Uzbekistan, but as military-age Karol fell under suspicion, the NKVD took him into custody, and he was sent to a gulag in Siberia, not too far from Omsk. There he survived the war, and at the edge of death, Karol attributes his survival to a kind doctor who kept him alive. When the end of the war came, Karol retraced his journey to the west, eventually making his way to Canada, where he and wife built a life in Montreal and Toronto.
Amek Adler was born in Lublin, Poland, in 1928 and grew up in Lodz. After Nazi occupation in 1939, his family escaped to Warsaw and then to Radom. In 1943, Amek was sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau, and from there was sent to a series of work camps and eventually shipped to Dachau, where his father and one brother perished. Amek was liberated on April 28, 1945. Amek worked with the Israeli Irgun Tzvai Leumi to help illegal immigrants into Palestine, and when he heard that his mother had survived he moved on to Sweden, where he married and started his own family. He immigrated to Canada in 1954, where he and his family built a new life for themselves.
We met Amek at Baycrest in September 2015, where he was interviewed for this project by Aaron Joshua, Jonah Patel, Charley Swartz, Rohan Narayanan, and Ted Kang.
Martin Baranek was born in 1930 in Starachowice, Poland. His was a small family, just him, his mother, his father, and his younger brother. Martin was 9 when the war started in 1939. During those years, he was often bullied at school for being a Jew. As the reach of the Nazis grew deeper, he and his family were put into the Starachowice Ghetto in 1941. Sensing the danger, his grandmother told him to go with the group being sent to the factories, and he started working in the woodworking factory. After about 17 months of working in the factory, he and his fellow workers were eventually loaded onto cattle cars and sent off to the camps, where he stayed until the winter of 1944-5. He was then sent on a death march but was fortunate to be liberated from Gunskirchen camp in 1945 by the American army. After the war he immigrated to Canada in 1949. At first, he got a job working in a factory while taking night school to learn English. During this time he was working in the factory he met his wife Betty.
Martin was interviewed for this project by Crestwood student Adam Tytel, who knew Martin from the March of the Living. Martin returned to Crestwood in January 2017, when he shared his story with Ms. Winograd’s class, and did a second interview with Charlie Zhao, Jess Levitt and Max Dolman.
Claire Baum was born in Rotterdam, Holland in 1936. A young child when the war began, she remembers little from the prewar period, but her memories of the attack on Rotterdam are vivid. Once the German occupation began, her life became one full of restrictions. And when the government began rounding up Jews, Claire’s parents decided to split up the family and send Claire and her sister to hide in a Christian home. Forced to relocate after they were denounced, the second home that Baum hid in was the home of Tante Nel, a young woman without a family of her own. In hiding, Baum and her sister were forced to conceal their true identities. When Holland was finally liberated three years later by Canadian soldiers, Baum and her sister reunited with their parents and they all moved to Canada.
Claire Baum was interviewed for this project in May of 2019 by Mr. Masters’ Grade 12 history class.
Esther Bem was raised in Zagreb. Two of her older sisters, Jelka and Vera, joined Tito’s Underground Resistance Army in 1941. Jelka was caught by the Croat Fascist Ustashi in 1942 and executed. Vera was cited for bravery by Tito’s Partisans and became an officer. Esther and her parents survived by hiding in Italy with poor farmers. She and her family arrived in Canada in 1966. Esther came to Crestwood two times: in 2008 she participated in our Holocaust Workshop, and in 2009 she sat down for an interview with Grade 11 student Caroline Murphy.
Harry Bibla was born in 1930 in Miedzyrzec, Poland. As a 9 year-old boy, Harry witnessed the Nazi invasion and the immediate impact it had on his country. While Mr. Bibla initially was hidden with a Gentile family, when conditions became too dangerous he took to the forest to hide. When conditions in the forest became unbearable, Mr. Bibla surrendered and was placed in a ghetto. However, as he viewed the coming of the final solution, he again took to the forest for safety. Mr. Bibla’s safety was only guaranteed by the arrival of Russian troops in 1944. After liberation, Mr. Bibla left Poland- first for Israel, before arriving in Toronto. Mr. Bibla’s story offers a unique glimpse into the Polish experience of the Shoah.
He shared his story with Crestwood students Nesli Inan, Topaz Katzav, Sabrina Wasserman and Hannah Mirsky in 2014.
Shirley Blay is from Poland, but in the chaotic days at the start of the war she and her family found themselves in the Soviet side of Poland, and they were subsequently transported deep into the USSR, to Kazakstan and Uzbekistan. They endured many hardships but unlike many Polish Jews they were able to escape the horrors of the Nazi camps, though Shirley did lose much of her extended family. When the war concluded Shirley’s family headed west, to Poland and Germany, and subsequently Canada.
We met Shirley at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa in October 2013, when Shirley was interviewed by Kristen Stribopoulos and Amal Ismail-Ladak.
Reuven Blium survived the Holocaust in Lithuania, a country where as many as 95% of Jews were murdered by the Nazis and their collaborators. Reuven was born in 1930 in Kaunas, into a family of limited means. Reuven’s father passed away when Reuven was only 3, and his mother had no alternative but to put him in an orphanage. Reuven spent his early years there, and he was able to escape the Nazi onslaught due to the foresight of a teacher, Mr. Zundell. He had been concerned about the war’s coming to Lithuania for several months, and had been preparing the students for evacuation. When the Kaunas airfield was bombed, he took many of the boys to the train station, and they headed east into Russia. Many of the younger children at the orphanage did not make it, and many were murdered by Lithuanian collaborators at the orphanage’s summer camp. Reuven believes that he can give them a voice. For those who did escape, a harrowing journey ensued, where the train was repeatedly attacked by the Luftwaffe. On the way, Reuven was jostled about, but he arrived intact into deep Russia, in the area of Galich. There he spent time in an another orphanage, which he describes in very Darwinian terms. Reuven learned to survive there, and he was lucky to get out after a year, making his way to the Volga region, where another orphanage awaited. Along the way, Reuven attended school, and as he got into his teens, he began to work in war industries. With the war’s end, he made his way back to Lithuania, to reconstruct his life. With the end of the war, he ended up in the Red Army. Later he was able to make his way west, eventually settling in Canada. We interviewed Reuven at his home in Toronto, over several visits in the summer and fall of 2016.
Jack Boeki’s World War Two story is a unique one. Born in Rotterdam in 1925, Jack grew up with fond memories of the city and its people, and of his family and childhood. All of it was shattered in May 1940, when the German blitzkrieg turned west towards the Netherlands, and Jack’s city came under assault. The family lost everything in the bombing and was forced to start all over, amid mounting restrictions on Jews which saw Jack go into hiding. The family he was staying with soon after warned him that it had become too dangerous and Jack took off to avoid capture. From there, Jack obtained a fake identity and began his series of remarkable escapes, repeatedly eluding the grasp of the Nazis. Jack left the Netherlands and escaped to France, where the underground put him in contact with agents of the American OSS, the original version of the CIA. They arranged to get Jack to Britain, where his talents were recognized, and Jack was dispatched to the United States for military training. In March 1944, as the liberation of occupied Europe drew near, Jack’s unit was ordered to England. Now an agent of the Counter Intelligence Corps (CIC), he had received special training to uncover war criminals and would soon put his skills to use on his most important missions yet. On June 8, just two days after the initial D-Day landings, Jack’s team of agents landed on Utah Beach in Normandy, France.
Hedy Bohm grew up in prewar Romania, in a region that later came under Hungarian control. As the war escalated, she and her family increasingly came under the influence of the Nazis, and the family was deported to Auschwitz in the summer of 1944. Hedy was able to survive Auschwitz-Birkenau for three months; at that time she was relocated to a work camp, where she spent the remainder of the war as a forced labourer, producing military equipment for the Germans. After liberation by American troops, Hedy went home, where she was able to meet up with cousins, and where she married her husband Imre. They were able to escape to Prague, where an aid organization arranged for this group of Hungarian orphans to get visas to Canada, where she arrived in 1948.
Hedy has visited Crestwood many times now. She brought with her some remarkable photos, including an old school drawing book, where many of her friends made sketches. She has spoken to students from YARRD (Youth against Racial and Religious Discrimination) as part of their ongoing initiative to interview community members about human rights causes, and she also brought this message to our first Human Rights and Diversity Symposium in November 2012. For this project Hedy was interviewed by Jake Pascoe and Natalie Krause in the fall of 2012, with supplements added in 2016 based on an interview with History 8, 10 and 11 students.
We met Max Bornstein at Baycrest Geriatric Centre in Toronto, where he is a resident. We learned about him through the Azrieli Foundation, as they have published his memoirs. Crestwood students Emma Myers and Sarah Mainprize interviewed Max at Baycrest in February 2013.
Max’s story is remarkable, and a singular one in many ways. He and his family travelled back and forth across the Atlantic many times in the prewar years: much of Max’s early life was spent in an orphanage in Canada, but events in his family saw them reunited in France in the prewar years. As the war began, the family made their way to southern France, where Max was detained – a 17 year old by then, he was a potential military recruit. He did manage to escape to Spain, but there he was ensnared by Franco’s government, and he spent a considerable amount of time in a concentration camp. Eventually he made his way back to England, and later to Canada – a veritable odyssey that saw him settle in postwar Toronto.
George Brady was living a quiet and comfortable life in Czechoslovakia in the period before the war. With the arrival of the Nazis however, his circumstances changed dramatically. He and his family were subjected to the various degrees of Nazi brutality and they found themselves ostracized from their community. George’s mother and father were arrested and taken away; George and his sister Hana went to live with an uncle before they were themselves deported to the Terezin concentration camp. From there the children were sent to Auschwitz, where George survived the selection, slave labour, and the death march at the end of the war. George has since dedicated himself to the cause of Holocaust and human rights education, as seen in the well known story of his sister’s life, Hana’s Suitcase.
George was interviewed for this project in spring 2009 by Nick Marlowe.
Roma Buchman is the grandmother of Crestwood graduate Ashley Bitton. When Ashley was in Mr. Masters CHC2D class 2006-7, we invited Roma to speak to the class. Roma is from Galicia, in Poland. When the war began, she found herself in a ghetto with the rest of her family. Her parents made the difficult decision to smuggle her and her sister out of the ghetto and into the care of nuns at a local convent. When it was feared they would be turned in, the nuns told the sisters to leave. With great fortune on their side, the sisters were able to re-unite with their parents, and they spent the remainder of the war in hiding. After the war, Roma and her family left Poland, emigrating first to France and then finally to Canada.
Roma was first interviewed for the Oral History Project in November 2009 by Crestwood students Jordyn Letofsky and Madison Brown. She visited us again in October 2012, when she spoke to Stephanie Erdman and Jacob Hamblin. In October 2016 we were again privileged to sit down with Roma; this time Mr. Masters took Sarah Swartz, Samara Black, and Sam and Georgia Gardner to visit her at her home.
Felicia Carmelly is a Romanian Holocaust survivor currently residing in Toronto. Born in 1932 amidst European anti-Semitism, Felicia faced persecution at the hands of the Green Shirts in Romania. Felicia and her family were taken from their hometown to Transnistria, an area under Romanian governance where Romanian Jews were forced into mass ghettos. Here, she and her family suffered with little food and resources for survival. Through the help of child partisans, Felicia survived Transnistria and was liberated by the Soviet Army. Following the war, Felicia and her family travelled to Vienna and Israel before finally arriving in Canada in 1962.
Felicia was interviewed for this project in September 2015 by Crestwood students Sabrina Wasserman, Tina Wang, Daven Siu, Robert McHale and Spencer Arshinoff.
Howard Chandler was born December 5, 1928, in Wierzbnik-Starachowice, Poland. He grew up in the Poland of the 1930s, where the rights of minorities in the multiethnic country were supposed to be protected; in spite of this Howard remembers being bullied and the anti-Semitic taunts as a way of life at the time. Howard was just about 11 years old when the war broke out, and he was no longer allowed to attend school. He was subsequently moved into a ghetto, living in crowded conditions with many other families. One day he noticed a new group of German soldiers were around, and it was at this time that the ghetto was liquidated. Howard and his father and brother were selected for work, but the rest of the family was taken away. Howard later learned that they were sent to Treblinka and were murdered. Howard did forced labour alongside his brother and father for the next two years, but when the Russian front drew closer, he was deported to Auschwitz in the summer of 1944. Howard would be there until January 1945, when the Nazis ordered the death marches to evacuate the camp. Howard ended up at Buchenwald from January to April 1945, when many of the prisoners were placed in open boxcars and sent on a meandering journey to Czechoslovakia, while the war closed in on both fronts. Howard and his brother were liberated by the Russians in Czechoslovakia, both of them in very bad shape. With the end of the war, he was taken to England, where he stayed for 2 years. He then decided to come to Canada where he has been ever since.
Howard was first interviewed by Crestwood student Michael Hochberg in April 2011. Howard visited Crestwood in November 2017, where he shared his story with a group of Grade 9-10 students. In June 2019 Mr. Masters and Arielle Meyer visited him in his home, alongside American researcher Emily Ann Putzke.
Jean Chase is a survivor from Trembovla, Poland, a small village near Tarnopol. Born in 1933, Jean was the only child of Chuna and Nechama Goldstein. When the Nazis came, the family was relocated to the Tarnopol ghetto, and though she was very young Jean remembered many key moments from this period. She recalled the aktions of the SS, as the population of the ghetto was steadily liquidated, and that her father, a local tailor, was spared at first. When her parents were ultimately taken away, Jean bravely and miraculously escaped to the forests surrounding the town, beginning a pattern that she would repeat multiple times. Upon learning of her parents’ murder, Jean found herself orphaned and depending on the locals who began to shelter in a rotating pattern. She even remembered staying at the home of a Ukrainian policeman who told her that he had murdered her mother. Jean made the decision to go another local village, Krovynka, where she connected with her friend Sylvia and members of her family who had escaped. She spent some months there, almost discovered by the Germans while hiding in a hole; it was a period where she recalls that was like a wild animal. With the end of the war, another period began, one which jean remembers as even worse in many ways – she was without family, and with nowhere to go. She made her way to Kutno, staying in Poland and resuming school, but Poland offered her nothing, and she made her way to Israel with many other orphans. While she met her husband there, Jean was not happy there either, and when family connections emerged in the United States, she was able to secure passage to Canada. She raised her family there, and recovered her emotional health. Jean was interviewed in August 2016, when Scott Masters and Savannah Yutman visited her in her home.
Jozef Cipin was a young boy when the war began. He and his family were on the run in the early part of the war, evading the Nazis and hiding out with the partisans. When the Gestapo caught up, Jozef was interrogated and deported to the Terezin camp, where he managed to survive the Holocaust. After the war he remained in Czechoslovakia, until the failed 1968 uprising convinced him and his family that it was time to leave. He ended up coming to Canada, where in 2012 he brought a powerful message of tolerance to Crestwood students Stephanie Tanz, Kaily Wise, and Natalie Krause. In 2017 Jozef again visited us, this time doing an interview with Robbie Altschuler, Armin Selzner and Arielle Meyer, as well as speaking to Mrs. Pagano’s English 8 class.
Israel Cohen is a Survivor from Poland. Mr. Cohen was born is Lodz, Poland. He had two sisters. One was killed in the camps, and the other was murdered by the Polish a few months after the war. At first he was in the Lodz Ghetto, then Auschwitz, and then Kaufering until liberation. After liberation he went to Switzerland, to a treatment center for TB. After meeting his wife in Switzerland, he came to Canada, where he lives now with his family. Mr. Cohen published a book called, Destined to Survive, where he recounts his story of survival.
He was interviewed by Amanda and Michael Lawee in December 2013.
Judy Cohen is a Holocaust survivor from Hungary. When Hungarian Jews were deported in 1944, she and many members of her family were sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where Judy became a slave labourer. She was later sent to other camps in the Nazi system and was fortunate to survive the death marches at the end of the war. Today, Judy is committed to Holocaust and human rights education, and she has set up a website “Women and the Holocaust” to further this end. She has spoken to classes at Crestwood and was interviewed for this project by student Megan Rudson in 2009, and again by Lauren Chris and Lauren Weingarten in 2010. In 2012 Judy invited Sarah Mainprize, Savannah Yutman and Kristin Stribopoulos into her home, and she spoke at Crestwood’s first Human Rights and Tolerance Symposium.
Irene Csillag was born in 1925 in Satu Mare, Romania. Irene was living a good life, but when the Germans occupied Hungary in 1944, everything changed. In April 1944 Hungarian Jews were moved into ghettoes. The Hungarian authorities worked with the SS and began deporting Jews starting in the middle of May. 440,000 Jews were deported from Hungary, most going to Auschwitz. After four weeks of living in the ghetto, Irene’s family was deported . When the train finally stopped, they had arrived at a place that no one recognized. The gate read “Arbeit Macht Frei” . After being sent to the right, Irene, her sister and her mother had their hair shaved off, and their belongings and clothes were taken away and replaced with uniforms. Next, they were marched to their barracks in camp “C” . They stayed there for around 6 weeks, later shipped off to another camp called Stutthof. After liberation, Irene met her husband Teddy at a DP camp and they got married in January. They joined a Zionist group and ended up in Austria, then in Budapest They lived in Budapest for ten years, and had their daughter Judy there. Because of the Hungarian revolution starting in 1956, they moved to Canada.
Irene was interviewed for this project by Katherine Charness and Emma Myers in January 2012.
Berthe Cygelfarb is a Holocaust Survivor with a compelling story to tell, and she tells it beautifully. When Berthe visited Crestwood in December 2015, she spoke to Mme Doherty’s French class, and they were entranced by Berthe’s charm and humour, as were the students in the subsequent interview. Berthe recounted to both groups the horrors of the Holocaust in France, of the deportations and complicity of the Vichy regime. She brought with her a host of photos, which tell the story of her family and of Berthe’s own recovery.
We thank the Azrieli Foundation and March of the Living for their role in referring Berthe to us.
Norma Dmitry is a Survivor who came to us courtesy of Baycrest’s Cafe Europa, where we met her in May 2012. Norma grew up in Vilna, where so much of the horror that makes up the Holocaust began. She remembers the restrictions of ghetto life as the walls closed in around them, and she compellingly remembers the killing fields of Ponary, not far from Vilna. Norma remembers the collaborators of the Nazis, and she reconstructs here the story of one life – and that of her family – as the Shoah escalated around them.
Norma was interviewed for this project by Katherine Charness, Ellen McPhadden and Alice Lee.
Mila Dorchik was born on May 12, 1924 in Szydlowiec, Poland. After the Nazis came into her town, they imposed a curfew and forced citizens to work for them. They did various jobs, such as cleaning the streets, houses, offices, and washrooms. In 1942, she was taken to Skarzysko-Kamienna labour camp and forced to work in an ammunition factory, producing bullets and lethal gas. In 1944 she was transferred to Czestochowa where she continued to do the same work. Mila was liberated in Czestochowa, on January 16, 1945 by the Russians. After the war, she returned to her hometown and stayed there for a short time and then moved to Germany. She lived there in a DP camp until 1948, when she immigrated to Israel. In 1961, she immigrated to Canada. Crestwood students visited Mila in her room at Baycrest in February of 2016 to hear her story.
Anne Eidlitz was born in 1936, just before the war started. She was born in Antwerp, Belgium and lived with her mother, her father, and her younger sister Rosa. Her first languages were Flemish and Yiddish. She was the oldest grandchild and had many privileges and was given many things that the other grandchildren were not. When the war began, the family went into hiding, and Anne was taught what to do should the Gestapo come looking for them. Her father was taken away early on, and the rest of the family stayed in hiding. When the Nazis came for her mother, Anne followed her mother’s instructions and the Gestapo left the young Anne behind. Her new family felt the situation was too dangerous, and Anne was sent to Switzerland, where she spent the rest of the war years. Following the war she returned to Belgium, where she learned of the murder of her parents. She went into the care of other family, and years later made her way to Canada.
Anne visited Crestwood in December 2017, where a group of CHC2D students interviewed her for this project.
Alex Eisen survived the Jewish Holocaust in Hungary at the end of the war. While he was not deported to the camps, he did witness the horrors inflicted upon the Jews of Budapest, which he was fortunate enough to escape. After the war came to an end, he left Europe and ended up in Palestine, where the British refused his ship entry. Interned for a time on Cyprus, he did eventually succeed in gaining entry into Israel, where he joined the air force. Today he and his wife make their home in Toronto, and we’re pleased that he agreed to become involved in this interview project, once in 2009 and in again in 2010. In 2012 he sat down for a third time, when he was interviewed by Julie Cho and Ryan Kroon.
Max Eisen is a Hungarian Jew who was deported along with his family in the summer of 1944. While the other members of his family were murdered, Max was able to survive slave labour at Auschwitz-Birkenau as well as other camps, as well as the death marches at the end of the war. He is a passionate speaker and educator who works through the Holocaust Center, the Simon Wiesenthal Centre and the Center for Diversity. He has been coming to Crestwood for many years now, and his message of tolerance and respect has reached many Crestwood students. We were happy to host Max on two occasions in 2017; he spoke with Justin Soberman at his home, and he visited Mr. Masters’ classroom, where Alexa Gibson took the lead on his interview.
Jenny was born in Poland in 1927, where she had four siblings. She grew up in Bedzin, a city with a thriving Jewish community. As a young girl, she read and was active in many Jewish organizations. As she remembers, all that changed on Sept. 1, 1939, when the German invasion began. She and her family were sent into a ghetto, and eventually deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where they experienced the full horror of the unfolding events. Jenny survived in part because of the resourcefulness of her mother, and she also remembers finding her faith in music, something which continued after the war. After her liberation, she immigrated first to Israel and later to Canada. Jenny was interviewed for this project by Sarah Mainprize and Cassie Wasserman.
Anita Helfgott was born in Lvov, Poland on July 18, 1934. Her parents were Edzia and Fischel Helfgott. Anita was an only child and was therefore slightly spoiled before the war. For the first 2 years of the war, Anita lived under Russian occupation. Life at this time changed very little. The only way that Anita felt the war was in the small shortages of food. Anita’s father was asked to go with the Russians when they retreated, but he declined, not knowing what was to come. After the German invasion, many things changed, especially for the Jews. Anita’s father lost his job and Anita was no longer allowed to go to school. Anita and her family were moved into a ghetto several kilometers away. After Anita’s mother was taken away in a random round up, Anita’s father became desperate. He asked a Polish man named Jozef with whom he worked to save Anita. The Polish man carried Anita out of the ghetto at night in a sack. This family took an incredible risk as it was against the law to hide a Jew. If they were caught, the whole family would have been killed. Once with the family, Anita was given a new name and a new story. After a close call with the police, it was decided that Anita could no longer stay with the Polish family. She was secreted back to her father. The ghetto had been disbanded and the people sent to Belzec. During the day while Anita was living with her father, she had to hide in a wardrobe. The Polish man rescued her again and Anita said goodbye to her father for the last time.
This time Jozef brought her a fake passport so that she could travel. Anita and this man took a train to where the man’s nephew was living near the Russian border. This nephew was a priest who had agreed to hide Anita. She stayed with him until the end of the war. Anita had a surviving aunt who was living close by. This aunt had been saved by Oskar Schindler. This aunt came to get Anita on April 1, 1946. They left Poland in 1946 with the intention of heading to the U.S. In 1948, Canada opened its doors and Anita’s aunt in NY found someone to sponsor them. Anita and her aunt moved to Toronto and began their new life.
Anita is now actively involved in Holocaust education, and she participates annually in the March of the Living. She was interviewed for this project by Meghan Kates. In June 2018 Anita invited us into her home, and Mr. Masters and a delegation of students interviewed her once again.
In 1942, after the Vichy regime started arresting Jews, the Engels attempted to escape France by going to Switzerland. On the border, they were caught, and shipped to a temporary prison. They would then be shipped to the Rivesaltes interment camp. At this time, the Vichy government had a policy of releasing children. While Julien, 9, and George, 5, would be released, their parents would be shipped to Drancy and then to Auschwitz. Julien and George would never see their parents again. Both brothers eventually made their way to North America, after being rescued.
When Esther Fairbloom’s mother was pregnant she went to a ghetto in Tarnopol to deliver Esther. Her mother knew the Germans would come after them, so she sat down with her sister and made the choice to have her two children hidden. She had known the people at the local church and they agreed to hide 2 month old Esther. Esther was kept in the church for five years. She was living on very little food and water. As a result of this she became very weak and ill. The nuns treated her extremely well and cared for her, but whenever the Nazis would come into the town she had to stay in the basement hiding.
After the war was over her aunt and uncle came to the church and adopted her as their own. By this time she was very weak and needed to be hospitalized and taught to eat again. Her aunt and uncle were there everyday helping her and truly took her in as their own child, after they lost theirs.
After she got out of the hospital in Poland, her aunt and her uncle moved to Germany for three years. After Germany they were allowed to come to Canada as farmers. They moved to just outside of Ottawa and began a new life for themselves. Eventually, they made their way to Toronto and Esther is still there to this day.
After the war her sister was picked up by her uncle who was a doctor. He decided to send her to Israel to live with their relatives. When she was eleven years old she went to Israel and she did not know she had a sister and neither did Esther.
After finding the picture, Esther sent a letter to her sister. After communicating with each other, Esther was finally able to go to Israel and meet her. They eventually met and now they speak regularly and Esther travels once a year to Israel to see her and her family.
Esther was interviewed for this project in early 20114 by Kory White. She returned tio Crestwood in December 2014, when she spoke to Mrs. Winograd’s class.
Shary Fine was born in Romania in 1927. She is currently 90 years old and is the youngest out of all of the girls in her family. As she was growing up, she lived in a small town in Transylvania. She was a gymnast, mountain climber, and an actor. Shary’s family was Jewish. To Shary and her family, religion was the most important thing. Everything revolved around religion. Even though her family was very religious, they never had big celebrations because they were poor. They celebrated big life events by going to Shul. Shary did not have many Jewish friends, but rather Christian and Catholic, and most of the population where she lived was German.
Renee Fiszman is a child survivor of the Shoah from France. Her father joined the French military at the war’s outset, and this would prove to be a crucial decision for the rest of the family; he was taken as a POW early in the war, and would not rejoin the family until 1945. When the July 16 round-ups began in Paris, Renee and her mother and brother were taken out of the line since her father was a soldier; as Renee says, they were minutes away from deportation to Drancy, and Auschwitz itself. Her mother saw events closing in, and she moved to put her children in hiding. Renee and her brother stayed with a family away from her beloved Marais district, and she went through the motions, attending school and church and hoping the family would be together again. Her mother was tragically deported to Auschwitz, where she was murdered, and while her father did return, family life did not resume as it had been. Renee remembered many difficult days coming to grips with loss and her new reality after the war. She did marry, and did find solace there, moving to Canada with her husband Charles in the 1950s.
Renee visited with Crestwood students twice in 2016; first Arielle, Guanghao and Alexander visited her at her home, and she subsequently did an interview in French with Arielle and Daven.
George Fox was born in Berdichev, Russia (later Poland) in 1917, where he lived with his family. The Nazis forced his family into the Brzeziny Ghetto, where they remained until its liquidation in 1942. George was sent to the Lodz Ghetto until 1944, and then to Auschwitz-Birkenau. He was liberated by the US Army after a death march to Flossenburg, Gross Rosen and Pocking, in Bavaria. The only survivor of his family, George immigrated to Canada in 1948. He has since dedicated himself to Holocaust and tolerance education, and he has been sharing his story for twenty years.
We met him at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa in October 2013, when he sat down with Savannah Yutman, Jessica Seger, and Meghan Kates.
Miriam Frankel was born in Dunajska Streda, Czechoslovakia, in 1927, and raised in Italy. After expulsion from her childhood home in Italy, she was trapped in Hungarian-occupied Czechoslovakia for the next four years. Her father was taken to a forced labour camp; the family was deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau in May 1944. Surviving two additional concentration camps, Miriam was liberated in Germany in April 1945. The sole survivor of her family, Miriam immigrated to Canada in 1948.
Miriam was interviewed for this project by Sabrina Wasserman and Scott Masters, who visited her in her home in July 2015.
John Freund came to us courtesy of the Azrieli Centre in January 2013. John is from Czechoslovakia, where he was living a “golden life” with family and friends. When the Germans invaded, that situation changed quickly. John survived the Terezin camp with his family. From there, John and his family were sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where they were held for a time in the family camp. As the Soviets neared, John was sent to Flossenburg, where he was ultimately liberated by the Americans.
John was interviewed for this project by Sabrina Wasserman, Zach Freedman, Steph Erdman, Suzanne Eisentraut, Anna Wallace, Cassie Wasserman, Bennett Harris, and Patrick Helou. In April 2016, John came back to Crestwood, when he sat down to do a presentation for Mr. Hawkins’ class.
Gerda Frieberg was born in Upper Silesia, Poland in 1925. In October 1939, her father was taken away. In 1940, Gerda, her mother, and sister were deported to the Jaworzno Ghetto. In 1942, she was sent to the Oberaltstadt concentration camp,where her sister was interned. Her mother joined them in 1943. Gerda worked in the machine shop of a spinning mill until liberation on May 9, 1945. After immigrating to Canada, Gerda dedicated herself to Holocaust education, and to a host of human rights causes.
She visited us at Crestwood in October 2013, when she was interviewed by Jake Pascoe, Alex Hobart, and Sifana Jalal. We were again fortunate to host Gerda in February 2017, when she spoke to the Mr. Birrell’s English 8 class, and did a follow up interview where Michael Steinberg, Jonas Weissland and Arielle Meyer took the lead.
Arnold Friedman was born in the Carpathian region of the Ukraine. When the prewar border adjustment known as the Anschluss occurred, he and his family suddenly found themselves living in Hungary. As such, they were offered a temporary respite from the Holocaust. While Polish and Ukrainian Jews were confronted by the Nazi onslaught in 1939-40, Hungarian Jews did not experience deportations until 1944. Arnold’s own story tells of the build-up to this, as well as his own experiences as an inmate and slave labourer.
Arnold has spoken at Crestwood several times now. He was interviewed for the Oral History project in 2009 and 2010 by members of Crestwood’s YARRD club, and he sat down for this interview with Emma Myers and Katherine Charness in the fall of 2012. He came to us courtesy of Crestwood grandparent Roma Buchman, whose own wartime story is told on another page of this project.
Henry Friedman, a Holocaust survivor, was born on October 22, 1931. Henry was born in a small town in Hungary called Nyireghaza. He went to English and Hebrew school and spent his time with his friends and family. Henry was the youngest of two brothers and a sister. He lived as normal of a life that a Jew in Eastern Europe could live with his parents and siblings. When the German occupation of Hungary began in 1944, the situation changed quickly; Henry and family were deported to Auschwitz, where most of his family was murdered on arrival. Henry and his father were selected out for the work camps, and Henry passed through a succession of them in 1944-45, until his liberation. With the end of the war, Henry first went to Sweden, before crossing the Atlantic to the U.S. and Canada, where he made his new life.
Henry was interviewed for this project in February 2015; we met him at Baycrest, courtesy of the Azrieli Foundation. The students who had the privilege of sitting down with Henry were Taylor Frankfort, Mehmet Hocaoglu, Topaz Katsav, and Dana Dubovsky.
Reny Friedman is a child survivor from the Netherlands. She and her twin brother were born in 1937, just as prewar tensions were building up. Reny’s mother was from germany, and sensing what was to come, she looked for ways to protect her family. The family managed to secure the help of the underground, going into hiding in the countryside, in the Ardennes region, as well as in Brussels. In both cases they were discovered and forced to run, but not all family members escaped. Reny’s mother was deported to Auschwitz, where she was able to survive the brutality of slave labour at the hands of the Nazis. She returned at the end of the war, and Reny poignantly described her mother’s emotional state in the months and years after the war. Reny’s father knew he had to get his children to safety when his wife was taken away, so her turned to the underground, who took Reny’s brother to a monastery and Reny to a convent. Reny passed the remainder of the war there, where she learned how to live in this new, alien environment. As time passed, she began to enjoy the rituals and trappings of the Catholic faith. When her father came to get her at the end of the war, Reny remembers that he allowed her time and was patient with her return to her Jewish roots. Reny made her way to Canada in the 1950s, where she married Henry Friedman, also a Holocaust Survivor, whose story appears in this project as well. Reny was interviewed in her home in July 2016 by Scott Masters and Savannah Yutman.
Leah Frimerman is from Poland. After her nation was partitioned she and her family found themselves under Soviet control and she ended up in Siberia, where she spent most of the war in labour camps. She suffered several injuries during that time but was able to head west following the war, ending up in a DP camp and eventually making her way to Canada. She was interviewed at Baycrest in May 2011 by Crestwood students Savannah Yutman, Jenny Wilson, and Scott Kinnaird.
Aileen Frydrych was born in the early 1930s to a Jewish family living in what was then known as Poland. Aileen who was originally named Hiya lived in Eastern Poland which is now part of Belarus. Aileen remembers the days when she first started school around 1939 when her town as occupied by Russia. Two years later Aileen’s small town was taken over by Germany. This drastically changed Aileen’s life. Being Jewish she was not allowed to attend school and when she wanted to go anywhere she would have to wear a yellow star. This showed other people that she was Jewish. Aileen went through many other hardships during the time of the Holocaust. This is her story and what she went through during these times.
We met Aileen at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa in January 2018, when she was interviewed by a group of CHC2D students.
Born in Hungary in 1926, Ignatz Fulop lived on a 1000 acre ranch with his parents, his nine sisters and his brother. In 1940 most of the land was confiscated and the Fulop family was left only with their home. To Ignatz, it seemed like yesterday when he and his family were deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau. He was seventeen when he was thrown aboard the cattle train to endure a horrific journey that would stay with him forever. He was forced into labour by the S.S. Officers and managed to survive. After the war, Ignatz along with his ten siblings emigrated to North America and Israel. Unfortunately his parents were not as blessed and will be remembered with the six million others who perished.
Ignatz was interviewed for this project by his grand-daughter Eden Wine.
George Gador was born in Czechoslovakia in 1925. When the Germans invaded Czechoslovakia, it was split into two areas. The area near Hungary was where George and his family lived. When George grew up he learnt how to speak both Hungarian and Czechoslovakian. Later on, he was captured by Nazis and was taken to a labour camp in Ukraine, where he helped make bridges, foxholes and other things for the Germans and Hungarians. When the Nazis were pushing the labour camp prisoners onto the cattle trains George escaped with his friend to a house where a lady let them stay, but they had to hide under the floorboards because she said if the Germans found her hiding two Jewish boys she would be hanged. They hid in the floorboards for 6 weeks eating only bread and bacon. After the six weeks, he poked his head out and saw that there were Russians, which meant they had been liberated. After this George wanted to go to Budapest but couldn’t because it was still controlled by the Germans. So he waited and they went to Hungary and stayed there until 1949 when the communist invaded the country and George then escaped the communists and fled to Vienna. He left Vienna in the late 1950’s and immigrated to Canada.
Ala Gamulka is a Holocaust Survivor from Bucharest, Romania. She and her family were fortunate to escape the city as the German invasion closed in around them, making their way to a boat which took them on a harrowing journey through the Adriatic Sea. Like many wartime refugees, they were intercepted and placed in a detention camp before making their way to Israel.
Ala was interviewed for this project by Jasmin Katz in the winter of 2013.
Lidia Gasper was born in 1928 in Szekszard, Hungary. Before the Holocaust, she had a good life. She had other Jewish friends in her town, her father had a mill that gave them water, and she had a bat mitzvah. She had to go to another town to go to school, and this is where trouble started. As the war intensified, she and her family were sent to a ghetto in Hungary for a few weeks before being sent to Auschwitz with her mother and sister; Lidia’s father had been sent to a work camp prior to this. Lidia herself spent several weeks in Auschwitz before being sent to a work camp, where she spent the remainder of the war as a slave labourer. She survived a death march at war’s end as well. Lidia’s family was among the lucky ones – they emerged intact from the Holocaust. After the war, she first went back to Budapest and in 1957 emigrated to Canada with her husband and her kids. Without any education and not able to speak English, it was hard starting a new life but she got a job working as a cook and then at Toronto General. Lidia is currently 91 years old and living in Toronto. Lidia was interviewed on February 22, 2019 by Crestwood students at Baycrest’ Cafe Europa.
Edith Gelbard was born in Vienna, Austria, in 1932. She lived with her parents, sister and grandmother. After the Nazis annexed Austria in 1938, her family fled to Belgium and then to France. In 1942, her father was murdered in Auschwitz. Edith and her brother were hidden in an orphanage. She was liberated in 1945 and reunited with rest of her family. After the war, she lived in Paris and immigrated to Canada in 1958.
We first interviewed Edith at Baycrest in October 2016, and she came to visit us at Crestwood in January 2017, when Arielle Meyer, Zoe Shen and Sally Li spoke to her..
In April, 1944, Bill was deported along with his entire family from his home town of Subotica, Serbia to Auschwitz-Birkenau. In June 1944, he was transferred to the Dachau concentration camp in Germany where he worked as a slave labourer, building the infamous Ringeltaube. He was liberated by the US Army on April 29, 1945. Bill came to Canada as an orphan in 1947. He has spoken at Crestwood several times now, including to his grandson Josh’s Grade 9 class. He also participated in our 2012 Human Rights Symposium. Since, he visited the school in February 2014, when he sat down with Asli Inan and Sabrina Wise, and again in 2017, when he was interviewed by Jonah Eichler, Jordy Lax and Sam Frigerio.
Mel Goldberg was born in the summer of 1942, in Baila Rawska, Warsaw. He had two brothers and one sister, but none survived the war. Mel’s town was liquidated in 1942 , and the family was sent to Treblinka, a death camp located in Poland. Mel’s father had given his newborn son to a local cobbler to protect him. Because of that Mel was the only member of his family to survive, though he has few direct memories of the time. When the war was over, Mel spent time in an orphanage – and it was there that the news of his survival came to light, and distant relatives searched for hi. Mel was able several years later to move to Toronto, where he began his new life.
Mel was originally interviewed for this project in the February 2014 by Josh Weisbrod. In December 2017 he visited us at Crestwood, sitting down for a second interview with Ken Wu, Max Wolburgh, and Canyon Li.
Paula Goldhar is a survivor from Poland. In December 2014 she shared her very compelling story with Mrs. Winograd’s English 8 class. Paula recounted the painful memories that made up her childhood in a very precise way, from the deprivations of the ghetto and the camps to the memories that still are with her every day. In 2017 we hosted her at the Baycrest Terraces, where Paula was interviewed by students Angelina Audette, Sarah Li, Lyndsay McCulloch, Sierra Little and Lucy Cuthbertson.
We thank Paula for visiting us, and for making the decision to tell her story.
Jacob Goldstein was born in Lodz Poland on April 12, 1928. Growing up he had 4 siblings, his older brother Ali, his younger brother Yossi, and his younger sister Ettel . The city of Lodz was the second largest city in Poland. There was a population size of around 600 000, of which 250 000 were Jewish. Jacob lived in a mixed community. As the Shoah began, the Goldstein family decided to try to stick together for as long as they could, as they went through a series of ghettos and camps. Unfortunately, Jacob, his dad and his uncle were the only ones to survive.
Jacob visited us at Baycrest in January 2018, where a delegation of CHC2D students interviewed him for this project.
Elly Gotz was born in 1928 in Kovno, Lithuania. His war started in 1941 when the Germans invaded the Soviet Union – he was about 13 when the war broke out. Elly and his family were put into a ghetto that same year. When the ghetto was liquidated, Elly was taken to Dachau, where he worked in a factory for a German company called Moll. His job was to build a giant underground factory. He was fortunate to be liberated when the war concluded in 1945. After the war, Elly first lived in Germany, then in Norway, and finally he went to South Africa to live with some distant relatives in order to get a good education. He and his wife are now making it their mission to collect 400 Holocaust survivor stories in order to educate and to make sure that an event as terrible as this will never happen again.
Nina Grey survived the Holocaust in wartime Poland. Her family was on the move, hiding in and out of Warsaw and fortunately always able to stay just one step of the Germans. She shared her story at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa in the fall of 2012, when she sat down with Jake Borinsky, Jessie Cooke, and Steph Erdman.
Tova Grifeld is a child survivor of the Holocaust. She grew up in Romania, and she shared with us her memories of the restrictions of the ghetto and of the increasing weight of the Nazi persecution. Tova was able after the war to make her way to Italy and then to Israel, where the survivors from her family were able to reunite. We met Tova at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa, where she sat down with Hailey Friedrichsen and Jessica Seger for this interview in May 2012.
Edith Grosman was born in eastern Czechoslovakia in the year 1924. Her life and family were all good, until the German invasion and the onslaught of the Nazis. With that, restrictions began to be put in place, and Edith soon found herself deportated to Auschwitz, and after that a series of labour camps. With the edn of the war, Edith was able to reunite with her mother, and to build her life once again. She went to university and married, and her husband enjoyed great success as a writer. In 1968 though, revolution came to Czechoslovakia, and Edith and her family made the decision to head west, eventually making their way to Canada.
Edith was interviewed for this project in the winter of 2014, by Molly Wilder-Karabus on one occasion, and subsequently at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa by Cassie Wasserman, Sidra Fisch, Vincent Salvatore, Madeleine Leftwick, and Meghan Massad.
Riva was born in 1926 in current day Belarus, but at the time it was Poland. Riva had three sisters and her Mom and Dad. Her family was in the upper class and her father was a lumber merchant; since she was in an upper class family Riva and her sisters went to private school. At the beginning ofWW2, Riva and her family were transported to the Osmeana ghetto, where they began to feel the harshness of the impending Shoah. From there, Riva was transported to several camps, including Bergen Belsen, where she was liberated by the British. After the War Riva got married in1947 and then left to go to Israel at the beginning of 1948. Riva and her husband had their children in Israel, two girls, and then in 1958 came to Canada.
We met Riva at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa, where she was interviewed by Sydney Swartz, Sabrina Wasserman, and Hailey Friedrichsen in October 2013.
Pinchas Gutter was born in Lodz and was 7 years old when the war broke out. After his father was brutally beaten by Nazis in Lodz, he fled with his family to what they thought was safety in Warsaw. From there, Pinchas and his family were incarcerated in the Warsaw Ghetto for three and a half years – until April 1943, the time of the ghetto uprising. After three weeks the family was deported to the death camp, Majdanek. Pinchas was sent to a work camp where people were beaten, shot or worked to death. Towards the end of the war he was forced on a death march, which he barely survived. He was liberated by the Russians on May 8,1945 and was later taken to Britain with other children for rehabilitation. He spoke at Crestwood for the first time in our Holocaust Conference in 2008. He has since visited classes and spoken to students on many occasions, including our 2012 Human Rights Symposium. In February 2014 Josh Zweig visited Pinchas in his home for this interview, and in 2016 Pinchas returned to visit Mr. Masters’ History 10 class.
Sid Handler was born In Vilnius, Lithuania in 1934 (at the time it was part of Poland and he was born with Polish citizenship) as Samuel Rezjewski. Through his childhood, he had lived close to lots of family, and was always surrounded by them. When the Holocaust Began and they were forced into the Vilna Ghetto and they moved his grandmother’s apartment in the Ghetto. At the end of the Holocaust Sid and his mother, the only two surviving members of the family, escaped from HKP labour camp. Sid now lives in Newton, Massachusetts with his wife, two children, and 5 grandchildren. He is now 82 years old and living happily. Sid Handler’s Oral History Project Interview, conducted by Zach Halpern, took place on the 25th. Nov, 2016.
Denise Hans was born June 21, 1938. She is the 4th of 6 children. Her father, Michel, and mother, Perla, came from Poland in the early 1920’s. When the war broke out, the round up of Jews first affected her family when her father received a “Billet Vert” asking him to go to the police station. But because of the birth of Denise’s sister Monique, her father was given a pass. When it was time to go back, he stayed hidden, until the Gestapo found him and several other family members, shipping them to Auschwitz. Denise’s mom went to the OSE to look for a place for all the children to stay. At first, all 8 kids were together on a farm, then they were separated into different families and eventually the 6 girls were sent to live in a convent. They lived there until their mother was able to take them back home in 1948. Denise’s story exposes the powerful emotions of an eloquent Child Survivor. She spoke to Crestwood students Katherine Charness, Lindsey Swartzman, and So Hee Pyo in early 2011, and in 2012 she visited us again, sitting down with Antony Cook and Sarah Mainprize. In 2017 Denise again came to Crestwood, speaking with Ms. Winograd;s Grade 8 class, and then doing an interview with Michael Zhang, Daniel Lax, Arielle Meyer and Julie Xiao.
Paul Heimann was born in Austria in 1923. When the Anschluss took place, Paul and his parents found themselves at the centre of Hitler’s ambitions, and they felt the full weight of Nazism with the Kristallnacht. Their synagogue was burned, and the stormtroopers prevented the fire department from taking action. Paul’s parents saw the writing on the wall, and they arranged to have Paul evacuated, and Paul was fortunate to join the kindertransport. He and thousands of other Jewish children made their way to Britain, where he spent the war years. Paul worked in wartime industry, and he developed his skill as a musician, emerging as a wartime bandleader and keeping the troops entertained. With the end of the war, he settled in Canada, moving to Parry Sound and later Toronto, all the while keeping his interest in music and bandleading skills in top form.
Paul was interviewed by a group of students at Baycrest in September 2016, where he shared his story, and even played a few tunes for them.
Magda Hilf was born in Maly Kevesd, Czechoslovakia, in 1921. Her early years consist of many fond memories, with family and friends and books, all in a rural setting. After 1938’s Munich Accord, the situation changed: when the Hungarians took over her region, the restrictions began. Her father lost his business, and he and so many other men were conscripted into the labour battalions, with many dying on the eastern front. Even so, Magda and her family lived in their village; life had become more harsh, but they could endure. After Nazi occupation in 1944, not even that was possible anymore: her family was driven to the nearby ghetto in Sátoraljaújhely, Hungary. Shortly after, they were deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where all were killed except for Magda, who was selected for slave labour and sent to the Junkers factory in Merkleeberg. Magda recalls that conditions there were better, though the hunger persisted. In April 1945, she was forced onto a death march, where she and four friends managed to escape. One month later, they were liberated by the Russian Army. Magda made her way back home to Czechoslovakia; she married and had a daughter, and later immigrated to Israel, and then Canada in 1953.
Magda was interviewed for this project by Scott Masters, who visited her at her home in July 2015. Mr. Masters visited Magda again in June 2019, this time with Arielle Meyer and American researcher Emily Anne Putzke.
Helena Hirschl (nee Beinhacker) was born in Bratislava, Czechoslovakia in 1928. An only child, she grew up in a well-to-do assimilated family, and her father was in the construction business. Helena remembers the prewar period in largely positive terms. She was unaware of the hatred bubbling beneath the surface; she had friends and liked school, and her parents sheltered her. As the restrictions against Jews mounted in the early part of the war, Helena managed to get into her local gymnasium, one of only three Jews allowed to do so in her community. As the war intensified, the family was separated, with her father sent to a labour camp. Helena and her mother were eventually deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where her mother was executed when she attempted to stay with her young daughter. A teenage girl, Helena was selected by the infamous Dr. Mengele, who at that time looking for young women for the soldiers’ brothels. Helena was sent to what she was told was an agricultural camp near the Baltic, but as she recalls in fragments she was violated by the soldiers. She recalls as well at this time that she was forced by the Germans to be a slave labourer, pushing carts with human remains as the Nazis attempted to cover up the enormity of their crimes. The Russian Red Army drew closer all the while, and eventually Helena was liberated. In the chaotic aftermath she made her way back to Czechoslovakia, but she remembers life there held no promise, so through a family connection she made her way to South America, first to Uruguay and later to Caracas, where she met her husband and started her family. Venezuela would face its own turmoil at a much later time, and in that period of time she made her way to Canada, where she lives today with family.
Helena Hirschl was interviewed for this project in her home in June 2019, by Arielle Meyer, Georgia Gardner, and Scott Masters.
Lea Hochman comes from a small town in Poland where she grew up with her family in a farming area. Life changed after the 1939 German invasion, though it was not until 1942 that the Germans decided to get rid of her family. They were 1 of 9 Jewish families in the town, and they were all sent to a ghetto. As the family was sleeping in a small attic Lea experienced a nightmare that changed her life forever. Lea and her brother ran away, escaping the ghetto. From this time she was no longer Lea Hochman. She had to hide her identity and she became Eva, spending most of her time inside and hiding. She was afraid to go out and be found, though she had to t times and did succeed in keeping her secret. After the war she worked for the Germans for a short period and ended up in a DPC camp in Hofgeismar, Germany. That was where she met her future husband, marrying him in the camp. From there she moved to Israel and stayed there for about 10 years. The country was new so life was hard. She had her first child there and then moved to Canada. Lea spoke at Crestwood in January 2011 as part of Holocaust Remembrance Day, and it was a featured story in the Canadian Jewish News.
Lou Hoffer was born in the northern province of Bukovina, Romania in a small town called Vijnitz. His exact date of birth is uncertain; however, it was around 1927. In 1939, the Russians and the Germans had invaded Poland making the neighbours to the north no longer under Polish rule but Russian. A year later Russia gave Romania an ultimatum to withdraw from the two northern provinces, Bukovina and Bessarabia, within 24 hours and they did. The town of Viznitz in which Lou was growing up was now under Russian occupation. By 1941, everyone in the town of Viznitz was deported and sent across the Dniester River to the territory of Transnistria. On the way to the death camp to Transnistria, at the age of 12, Lou had seen the messages left behind by people who were taken prior to his deportation; that day he took an oath that he would make sure to share the truth with the world if he survived. The conditions in the camps were so terrible that approximately 300,000 Jews died. In March of 1944, Lou and his family were liberated by the Soviet Army. With no place to go, he was fortunate enough to be allowed into Canada. He endured many hardships when he first arrived to Canada but at the end, he succeeded and met his wife Magda with whom he raised a beautiful family.
Lou was interviewed for this project at Baycrest in January 2018 by a delegation of CHC2D students.
Guta Israel was born in Sandomierz, Poland, where she was one of seven siblings. The Germans invaded her hometown when she was 13, and the full weight of the Shoah hit soonafter. Polish Jews were quickly placed in ghettos, and while many were murdered in short order by the SS, Guta was among those selected for work. She was put in 3 separate concentration camps, including Auschwitz and Belsen. After she was liberated by British troops in 1945, she made her way at first back to Poland. But confronted with entrenched anti-Semitism, she moved to Canada with her husband, where they set out to build themselves a new life together.
Mr. David Jacobs was born in Tomaszów, Poland. He grew up within the small town, and soon joined his father in working at their family tailoring shop. At age 18, when the war broke out, Mr. Jacobs was sent to Buchenwald concentration camp, where he served as a slave labourer. Mr. Jacobs traveled across Europe to various concentration camps, including Blizyn and Auschwitz Birkenau, where he served as a cook for his fellow prisoners. After being liberated by Eisenhower and the American Armed Forces in 1945, Mr. Jacobs was soon given the opportunity to work. Soon after, he travelled to the Bergen-Belsen DP camp, where he and his brother were able to reunite with their sister. He began working for the American Joint Distribution Committee in order to help displaced Jews across Europe. Mr. Jacobs later moved to Toronto, Canada to continue working in the clothing industry, where he still resides today.
Mr, Jacobs was interviewed for this project in January 2015 by Sabrina Wasserman and Blair Gwartzmann.
Ruth Javasky was born in Poland in 1929. Her family owned a store prior to the war
and people would throw stones through the windows when the store was closed. In
1942 her sister was taken away from her family. The rise of anti-Semitism was rough
on her family as she was eventually taken away from them and sent to a labour camp.
During the war she worked in the camp cleaning an office because she was too young
to do any physical work. When the war ended she was liberated by the Russians and
she met up with her cousin. They traveled back to Poland and met up with her two uncles. Her
great uncle who lived in Canada sponsored them to move to Toronto. She and her
father moved to Toronto, where Ruth still lives. Ruth was interviewed for this project at Baycrest on the 12th of January 2018
In 1944 when the Germans came into Hungary they slowly took away everything Malka Karpati’s family had and they made them wear a yellow star on their clothes. In 1944 they were sent to Auschwitz on an open train, where Doctor Mengele separated them – mom went to the left and Malka and her sisters went to the right side. Unfortunately her mom and dad were sent to the gas chambers when they arrived. In the camps they had no kind of food – they got one piece of bread to split 3 ways. The Germans looked for sick people every day and they would immediately send them to the gas chambers so when Malka’s sister had a fever Polish Jews helped hide her to avoid being sent to the chambers. After Auschwitz Malka was sent to work in a ammo factory for 10 weeks. On April 18, 1945 the British freed them; Malka says if they would have showed up 2 weeks later that all of the people would have been dead in the camps. It took 2 months to get home from the camp they went on a train with Canadian soldiers to Nuremburg and then from there they were sent home. In 1946 she got married and in 1947 had her first child. On her child’s second birthday they moved to Israel, later emigrating to Canada.
Malka was interviewed at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa by Savannah Yutman, Jenny Wilson, and Alex Lupke.
Sylvia Katz is a Holocaust Survivor from Poland. She was living an ideal life, with a great family, when the war broke out; she was 13 at the time. Sylvia was placed in her first camp in 1941, where she was selected to work. She spent the remainder of the war as a slave labourer moving from one work camp to the next. Her memories and stories from that period are compelling and tragic. After liberation, Sylvia headed back to Poland, hoping to find family and to start over. She did not, however, and she was urged to move on by a neighbour who feared for Sylvia’s life. Sylvia returned to Germany, and then eventually made her way to Canada.
We met Sylvia at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa, where she sat for an interview with Stephanie Erdman, Sarah Mainprize, Caroline Birkenshaw, and Emma Myers.
Faye Wolpianska was born in Bieniekonie, Poland, in 1928. Her childhood came to an end in June 1941 when the Nazis came to her village. With the war underway, Faye and her family were quickly moved into a ghetto. As conditions worsened, the family made the decision to leave, ending up in the larger Vilna ghetto. Their lives drifted into starvation and slave labour. One day, Faye was laying railway ties in a labour camp and returned home to find that her family had disappeared. Now on her own, Faye decided to run.
She spent months begging for food and shelter. She hid in barns, the woods, and fields, depending on the occasional farmer who would help her. As a young teen, she was brutalized, infested by lice, and forced to walk barefoot in the snow when her boots fell apart. When she wandered into a swamp, the Partisans found her. Faye’s legs were frozen in the material that was wrapped around her feet, her skin peeling off with the material. Although there were no antibiotics or medicine, Faye miraculously survived.
After liberation by the Russians in 1944, Faye returned to her hometown and learned that of the 500 Jews who had lived there, only 14 survived. Her father was murdered in a camp in Estonia, and her brother and sister were gassed in Auschwitz.
Faye arrived in Canada in 1948 and was joined by her mother in 1949. She married Mortz Kieffer in 1952, and together they have two sons and two grandchildren. We first met Faye at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa, where she has twice told her story to Crestwood students. In December 2013 and again in 2015 she visited us at Crestwood, where she sat down with Ms. Winograd’s English 8 class.
Mr. and Mrs. Kleinberg are survivors of the Holocaust. They have witnessed the terror, the tears, pain; emotions that are inexplicable. They lost their friends, their family and have opened their hearts to each other.
Howard was born in Poland, in 1926 and was the youngest brother of ten. in 1941 his entire family had to back up their things and move into the ghetto. They had to leave everything behind. Every Jew within the perimeter of the Ghettos was marched in and this became their home for the next few months. From there Howard was used as a slave labourer and was moved through a succession of camps, ending up in Bergen Belsen – it was there that nancy saved his life. They reconnected and married after the war and built a life in Canada. They came to us courtesy of the Holocaust Centre of Toronto, and their inspirational story received great attention this year when they appeared on the Regis and Kelly show.
Mr. and Mrs. Kleinberg are survivors of the Holocaust. They have witnessed the terror, the tears, pain; emotions that are inexplicable. They lost their friends, their family and have opened their hearts to each other.
Nancy comes from a small town in Poland where she grew up with five brothers and two loving parents as well as her large extended family. She lived a wonderful childhood where she would play in the parks and every summer visit her Grandparents on the farm. Nancy’s parents owned a shoe store; however as time passed, one afternoon Nazi soldiers stomped into their store and told them they had no more rights as owners. Her parents life long business, and most shocking, their freedom was taken away. Nancy’s family was forced into the ghettos. Her entire family had to leave everything behind; their house, their store, their belongings. They had to back up a small bag with as little things as possible. When the ghetto was liquidated, nancy was separated from much of her family. She was deported to Auschwitz and became a slave labourer. As the war ended she found herself in Bergen Belsen, where she saved a teenaged boy on the verge of death.
Freda (Franka) Kon is from Lodz, Poland. Freda and her family had been a nice, normal life when the tragedy of the Holocaust descended upon them. They were put into the Lodz Ghetto, where they would stay for the next four year, condemned to slave labour and starvation. But as a young woman, in a community with so many other young Jews, Freda was resilient, and she recalled how they managed to find ways to bring at least some joy into their lives. Freda’s insights there are compelling, and they speak to the resistance that went on, even in the darkest moments. In 1944, the tragedy of the Shoah persisted, and Freda and her family were deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau; Freda subsequently was sent to Stutthof, and was forced on a death march at the war’s end.
She attributes her survival to her mother’s spirit, as the two were together through the duration of the Shoah. At war’s end Freda married and had a child before emigrating to Canada. We first met her at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa, and she was kind enough to invite us to her home, where Crestwood students Sy Greenberg, Alix Postan, Lindsey Swartzman, and Katherine Charness interviewed her in May 2011. In 2014 Freda and her daughter travelled to Lodz, where Freda participated in ceremonies commemorating the 70th anniversary of the liquidation of the ghetto. Savannah Yutman and Scott Masters visited Freda in July 2015, where she updated her interview and shared the story of her recent travels to Poland.
Renate Krakauer is a child survivor from Poland. She was born in Stanislawow, Poland just as the war began, in what was at that time the Soviet zone of occupation. Life was relatively normal until 1941, when the Nazis broke the Molotov-von Ribbentrop Pact and headed east into the USSR. Suddenly the Jews of Stanislawow were forced into a ghetto, and the horrific killings began, most notably the Black Sunday massacre, where 12 000 Jews were murdered at the hands of the SS. Renate’s family was lucky that day, and eluded the massacre simply because there was no knock on their door. Conditions in the ghetto were terrible, and the young Renate barely survived. When her parents saw the writing on the wall, her mother bravely decided to hand Renate over to a Polish woman, who raised Renate as her own during the remainder of the war, when Renate’s parents, both of whom miraculously survived, came out of hiding and reunited with one another and with their daughter. They lived out the remainder of the war in the renewed Soviet zone of occupation, deciding to head to Germany as Renate’s father did not want to live under communist rule. They spent time at a DP camp in Eggenfelden before making their way to Canada in 1948.
Sophie Krausz is a delightful 73yr. old woman who has been living at the Terraces of Baycrest since 2012. Sophie was born in Russia two months after the Holocaust commenced. She lived in Poland for 13 years. Sophie came to Canada in 1958. Sophie was the only child in her family. The family emigrated from Europe to Montreal.
Sophie is widowed. She has 2 daughters and one son. She is an educated woman who graduated from Concordia University (Montreal) in 1978. She holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree, and went to Teacher’s College and was a Public School Teacher who taught ESL and Special Ed. As well, Sophie spent 6 summers at a camp teaching arts and crafts. Sophie was interviewed for this project in March 2015 by Hannah Mirsky, Amy Cho, and Toby Chung.
Ella Kuritski is from Lithuania. After the German invasion in 1941, her father was taken and murdered by the Nazis, and she and her family were relocated to the Kovno ghetto. She was fortunate to survive the deportations and ultimate liquidation of the ghetto and was sent instead to a work camp, where she forced into slave labour. As the Soviet Army advanced, she and many other camp survivors were sent further west into other camps, where she was able to survive further selections. When the war was at its conclusion, she and many others were forced onto ships which the Germans intended to sink; fortunately for Ella, the liberation occurred just as this was about to take place. After the war Ella went to Israel and later emigrated to Canada.
She was interviewed for this project by Lauren Engeland and Emma Myers, as part of our Bayycrest Cafe Europa series.
Irene Kurtz is a Survivor of the Warsaw Ghetto, where she witnessed the fateful uprising of 1943. From there she was deported to several of the camps, including Madjanek and Skarzysko. After her liberation by Soviet troops she worked in a hospital before she was able to leave Poland and eventually emigrate to Canada.
Irene was interviewed at Baycrest by Crestwood students So Hee Pyo, Jenny Son, Lauren Engeland, and Emma Myers.
Steve was referred to Crestwood via the Azrieli Foundation, and he was interviewed in his apartment by Scott Masters in April 2018.
We were fortunate to meet Fania Landsman in October 2013 at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa, where she graciously took time out of her day to come and share her story. Mrs. Landsman was born in Belarus, Poland in 1941. She spent the war years in Russia with her mother. In the postwar years, Mrs. Landsman moved to Israel, and then to Canada, where she started her new life.
Mark Lane was born in 1929 in eastern Czechoslovakia, in the village of Olenovo. In 1939, with the division of the country, the area was ceded to Hungary. The family began to struggle, dealing with the rising anti-Semitism and the restrictions that began to be imposed on their daily lives. In the spring of 1944, when Hungary came under direct fascist rule and Nazi occupation, he and his family were deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where his mother, two brothers and sister were murdered. He remained in Birkenau until January 1945 when he was taken on a death march to Mauthausen and in Austria. He was finally liberated by the Americans in May 1945 from Günskirchen. Mark immigrated to Canada in 1951, where he began a new life with his wife Ruth, who also appears as part of this project in the Community Members section.
Both were interviewed by Scott Masters in July 2015.
Eva Lang is a child survivor from Belgium. When the war began she and her family found themselves in southern France, soon arrested under the Vichy regime. While her parents succeeded in getting most of their children to safety through the OSE, her parents and many family members were deported to Auschwitz. Eva spent most of the war on the run and in hiding. After the war she made her way to Israel and Canada, where she divides her time. We were fortunate to hear her words of tolerance courtesy of Baycrest, where she spoke to Amanda Lee, Jenny Son, Benji Baker, and Noah Levin in May 2011.
Manny Langer was born June 6th 1929, in Lodz Poland to a large Jewish family, with three sisters and two brothers. Before the beginning of the Second World War, his family had a successful Kosher dairy business. In the morning he attended Hebrew school, and in the afternoon Polish school. In addition to Hebrew school, Manny and his family belonged to a synagogue and went consistently every weekend. He described his life as nice, simple and friendly. The beginning of the war changed all that, and Manny found himself deported to the ghetto, where his life as a slave labourer began. He and his family endured tremendous hardships, and a succession of camps, from which Manny miraculously was able to emerge alive. After the war, he was able to reconnect with his siblings, and he moved to the US and then Canada to start his life anew. Since he has become a powerful speaker, urging today’s youth to find harmony and justice in a world that showed him the opposite.
Manny and his daughters visited Crestwood in January 2017, when they spoke to English 8 students and did an interview with a CHC2D students.
Nate Leipciger was born in 1928, in Chorzow, Poland. He survived the Sosnowiec Ghetto and the camps of Auschwitz-Birkenau, Fünfteichen, GrossRosen, Flossenberg, Leonberg, and Dachau. Nate and his father were liberated in May 1945, and immigrated to Canada in 1948.
Nate came to speak at Crestwood in November 2013, when he was interviewed by Danielle Gionnas, Nasir Jamali, and Brooklynn Hamilton.
Frida Levenheck is a Holocaust survivor from France. Born in the Alsace region, Frida was a child when the war began, and her survival can be attributed to her parents – and to luck and circumstance. The family lived in the Strasbourg region, right across the Rhine River from Germany, and they were forcibly evacuated after the German blitzkrieg on France in 1940. Frida’s parents headed inland, ending up in the Vichy zone, near Lot et Garonne. Frida’s wartime childhood was relatively normal; the family was in hiding, but the people in their village did not turn them in, so Frida’s young years were not marked by the tragedies endured by so many French Jews. At war’s end Frida was still a young girl; she made her way home with her parents, and several years later she met another French Holocaust survivor, Henri Levenheck, whose story can also be found here.
Both Frida and Henri were interviewed at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa in December 2018, by a delegation of Crestwood students that included Adam Bacik, Sarah Swartz, Lucy Cuthbertson, and Rylie Tishler.
Henri Levenheck was born in Strasbourg, France. When the war came, he was still a boy, ready for all that his teenage years might bring him. But the summer of 1940 saw those dreams taken away, replaced by the terrible new reality of Nazi occupation. henri and his family were forcibly evacuated from Strasbourg and sent to Rivesaltes, one of the camps created for French and foreign Jews in wartime France. Many of Henri’s family members, including his father, were deported from this camp to Auschwitz, where they became victims of the Holocaust. Much of what happened to them happened at the hands of their own countrymen, many of whom aligned themselves with the Nazis. Henri and other members of his immediate family were able to survive the war, and Henri’s teenage years took place against this terrible backdrop of anti-Semitism and constant fear of arrest. Henri made his way to Paris after the war, looking to rebuild his life; a few years after the war, he met another French Jew who had survived, his future wife Frida. Together they would emigrate to Canada, where they built their postwar lives.
We met Alex Levin courtesy of the Memory Project and the Azrieli Foundation, where he is a keynote speaker and author. Alex’s story is one of the most compelling ones we have heard; his family was from Poland, and they experienced the full weight of the war’s early years, invaded first by the USSR and then later by Nazi Germany. Much of Alex’s family was murdered when the Nazi killing squads began the “Holocaust by bullets”, and Alex was only able to survive when he and a few others escaped into the forests. They stayed there for years, surviving off the land, until they heard about the arrival of the Russians. Alex made his way out of the forest and entered the Red Army, following a Russian unit as they made their way into Germany and the war reached its conclusion. Alex stayed in the USSR after the war, where he rebuilt his life as a military man over the next decades. He emigrated to Canada with his wife in the late 1960s.
Alex visited us at Crestwood in April 2012, where he joined us for our Veterans’ Breakfast and then sat down with Michael Lawee, Natalie Krause, Victor Minkov and Antony Cook.
Faigie Libman was born in Kaunas in 1934, an only child. Her mother was a nurse and her father owned a successful bookstore. They lived an affluent lifestyle. In 1941, when Germany invaded and bombed Lithuania, more than 3,500 Jews were murdered. They were humiliated, abused, tortured and murdered. After the invasion, a ghetto was established in Slobodka, where Lithuanian Jews were sent and forced to wear yellow stars. Faigie was hungry all the time. During the next three years, her family lived in turmoil. In 1944, the Jews of Kaunas were transported in cattle cars to concentration camps. Her father was sent to and later died in Dachau. She and her mother were shipped to Stutthof. Her mother dressed her to look older and told the Nazis she was 12, so that she could work and not be taken away to slaughter with the other children. After leaving Stutthof, they lived in three small labour camps. In 1945, the Russians liberated their camp. Faigie and her mother were the only surviving members of their family. Her father died the same week they were liberated. After living in a Displaced Persons camp in Austria, her mother located her sister in Montreal and they emigrated to a new life in 1948. In 1972, she and her husband moved to Toronto, where she taught Junior Kindergarten for more than 30 years. Today Faigie continues to speak about the Holocaust, racism and hatred at schools, synagogues, churches and assemblies. She visited Crestwood in December 2013, where she spoke to Mrs. Pagano’s English 8 class and to Hailey Friedrichsen and Liam Mayer for this project.
Rose Lipszyc was born in 1929 in Lublin, Poland. By all accounts, her life was a good one, full of family and happy memories. All that changed in the early days of the Second World War, when the Nazis invaded. Her family was sent to the ghetto, watching as the liquidations took their neighbours away. Rose’s mother had a moment of clarity, and when their turn came, she pushed Rose out of the truck, telling her young daughter to flee. On October 14, 1942 Rose escaped forced deportation. She survived the war under a false identity, posing as a teenage Polish child worker in Germany. Rose’s mother, father and two brothers were murdered by the Nazis. After liberation, Rose and her future husband Jack immigrated to Israel in 1948, but the climate did not agree with her, so they chose to immigrate to Canada in 1952, where they built a new life together.
We were fortunate to meet Rose in September 2015, when a group of students met her at Baycrest. Guanghao, Victoria, Julian and Greg were impressed by Rose’s optimism and by her approach to Holocaust education. Rose visited Crestwood again in December 2018, sharing her story with Mr. DeFranco’s Grade 8 class.
Before WW2, George Lysy was a Jewish officer in the Czechoslovakian Army. He did not face any discrimination until the late 1930’s, when the army started to make changes to their policies. Eventually, things got worse for George. George was demoted to private in the army reserves where he was eventually called upon to serve. When the Second World War started, Bill was sent to the Russian front. The Jewish group George was in was purposely placed there so that they could tahe the brunt of the landmines and barbed wire. George suffered some terrible conditions at the front, including hunger. After a long journey home, George obtained a fake birth certificate and passport from his brother that worked, and he was able to survive the rest of the war.
George and his wife Judy were interviewed for this project by Crestwood students Zack Martin, Kyle Seigel, and Chase Farbstein.
Judy Lysy came to Crestwood with her husband George. Both are Hungarian Survivors of the Shoah, and they shared their stories with Chase Farbstein, Kyle Seigel, and Zack Martin in a dual interview. Judy grew up in wartime Hungary, and when many Jewish men were taken to the Russian front, she and other women fended for themselves in the ghettoes, and later in the camps. Judy was deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where she survived several months before being relocated to a work camp. At that time, she finished out the war as a slave labourer, at which time she was liberated by American troops. Soon after she met her husband George and came to Canada to begin a new life.
Sylvia Mahler is a survivor of the Holocaust. Sylvia does not know her age because her records were lost in the war, but she is registered as born in 1925. She grew up in Stopnica (Poland) and lived there until the war started. In 1941 Sylvia was taken to Skarzysko-Kamienna labour camp, where she was forced to work in an ammunition factory. After she was taken to Czestochowa and forced to work in another ammunition factory. In 1948 Sylvia moved to Canada with her husband and she has lived in Canada since then. Sadly, during the war her parents, sister and three brothers were killed and Sylvia was the only survivor of the Holocaust from her family. She sat down with Crestwood students in February 2016 in her room at Baycrest to share her story.
Joe Mandel is a Holocaust survivor from the central European region of Ruthenia. When Joe was born in 1924, Ruthenia was part of Czechoslovakia, but following Chamberlain’s failed “Peace in our time” bid and the following wartime border changes, Joe’s town was ceded to Hungary (it has also at various times been part of Germany, Austria-Hungary, and the Ukraine). When Czechoslovakia was taken over by Hitler, Joe and his family had started to feel the weight of the Nazis’ anti-Jewish laws, but absorption into Hungary insulated them from the harshest realities of the Holocaust, at least for a few years.
During this time, Joe was often apart from his family, working a succession of jobs in Budapest. His older brother had been conscripted into the forced labour battalions of the Hungarian army, and this same fate awaited Joe as the war reached its midpoint. But in 1944, the Germans invaded and directly occupied Hungary, and the fate of Hungarian Jews became much more dire. As Joe was in Budapest, he was apart from most of his family, and he was taken as a forced labourer, working in a number of different situations in and around Budapest. Joe would later learn that much of his family was deported to Auschwitz during this time. As the Soviets closed in from the east, Joe was himself transported to a number of camps, including Mauthausen, Dachau, and Gunskirchen, where he was liberated by the Americans. After a period of recovery, Joe went to look for his family, and he managed to find several of his siblings. They stayed in Budapest and began to rebuild their lives, but Joe chafed under communism, and he made the decision to leave Hungary, escaping in the wake of the 1956 Hungarian revolution. With the help of a friend he found in Vienna, Joe came to Canada, where he started over, first in Regina.
Joe was interviewed for this project by Scott Masters, courtesy of March of the Living. We met in Joe’s home in June 2015. In January 2018, Joe met with CHC2D students at Baycrest, where he sat for a second interview.
Eva Meisels was born in Budapest, Hungary, in 1939, an only child. After her father was taken to a forced labour camp in 1942, Eva and her mother were sent to the Budapest Ghetto and eventually, a safe house. They obtained false papers from Raoul Wallenberg and were liberated by the Soviet Army. After the war, with her family reunited, Eva went back to school and immigrated to Canada in 1956. She and her husband Leslie, whose story follows this one, came to visit us at Crestwood in October 2013, when Eva was interviewed by Meghan Kates, Sabrina Wasserman, and Sydney Swartz. In November 2017 we visited them in their home, when a delegation of Crestwood students interviewed them for their oral history projects.
Leslie Meisels was born in Nádudvar, Hungary in1927. He lived with his parents, two brothers, and both sets of grandparents. He survived the ghetto in Debrecen, slave labour and eventual deportation to Bergen-Belsen. He was liberated in April1945 by the US Army. His mother, father and both brothers also survived. Leslie immigrated to Canada in 1967.
He and his wife Eva, whose story is also featured here, visited Crestwood in October 2013, where Leslie was interviewed by Cassie Wasserman, Alex Hobart, and Sifana Jalal. We had the pleasure of visiting them in their home in November 2017, when Crestwood students conducted a second interview in HD!
Ernie Meister was separated fom his family and sent to a work camp for the majority of World War Two, first in Transylvania and later in the Ukraine. He was forced into slave labour, digging ditches and other defenses for the German military. In late 1944 he escaped the camp and made his way back to Romania, where he was able to survive the final months of the war. From there and following his recovery, he returned to his athletic roots and worked for the Romanian Olympic Federation. He did the same for Canada after his emigration.
We interviewed Ernie as part of the Baycrest Cafe Europa series in February 2011. Crestwood students Gabi Sandler and Jackie Herschenhorn took the lead on Ernie’s interview. We were able to visit Ernie again in February 2014, when he sat down with Isabel Cravit, Jade Assaraf, Stephanie Erdman, and Steven Feng.
Etti Miller is a child survivor of the Holocaust. Born just as the war was beginning, Etti and her family were forced into the Vilna Ghetto. They were lucky to escape the liquidation of the ghetto, as they managed to find their way into the forests. They remained there the duration of the war, living among the partisans and with the local farm,era who were brave enough to offer them shelter. Even though she was just a child, Etti sees this as a formative period in her life, something she shared with Crestwood students Alex Hobart and Savannah Yutman at a Cafe Europa interview in February 2013.
Jack was born in a small and impoverished village in Poland on the White Russian boarder. The name of this town was Sharkazhena.
He attended a Polish public school until 1939, when the Russians came in and occupied Jack’s small village.
Despite undergoing the horrors of the Holocaust, Jack is now living a happy and healthy life. He is happily married to his wife Charlotte, and he has one son, Lyle, and one daughter, Candice. As well, he also has 6 grandchildren .
Upon arriving in Canada life was not easy, but it was much better than his life back at home. However, Jack often dreams about those that he misses and those that have died as a result of the Holocaust. While he is now living a happy life, his memories of what happened during the Holocaust will never fade.
Jack was interviewed for this project by Crestwood student Jenna Calderone.
Bernard’s family originally came from Poland, but Bernard grew up in France not far from the Luxembourg border. When his father became concerned about the state of affairs in Germany, the family moved to southern France, in what would become the Vichy zone. When the family learned that the Gestapo was looking for Bernard’s father, they separated and went into hiding. Taken into a Catholic school, a young Bernard took on the identity Jacques Cardinal and became a messenger for the Resistance, a job he maintained through his early teens and most of the war. When that Resistance cell was discovered, he went back into hiding and re-emerged as Jacques Maurin. At this time Bernard was recruited by the Maquis, the armed branch of the French Resistance. He participated in several missions as the Allies began the D-Day landings to the north. After France was liberated, Bernard was fortunate to be re-united with his family members, all of whom had survived the war and the Jewish deportations out of Vichy. They made their way to the United States in 1949.
I met Bernard Mussmand, through my father George Masters. I was able to interview him at his home in Portland, Maine in December 2008.
Sol Nayman is a Holocaust Survivor from Poland. He was born in 1935 to Yudel Najman and Sore Roize Rosenberg; his older sister Mania was born in 1928. When the war came in 1939, simple, everyday life in their village was turned upside down. The family was fortunate to escape to the forest, where they saw the Wehrmacht’s trucks and troops roll through and destroy what was in their path. From there the Naymans managed to trace a path to the east, eventually making their way to the Soviet Union. Once in the USSR, they had to deal with the wartime conditions in that nation, and they were forced into the vast reaches of Siberia, where Sol’s parents toiled away for many years. As the war drew to a close, they made their way back to the west, to the Ukraine and eventually Germany itself, where they found themselves in the Wetzlar DP Camp. Here life slowly came back to a state of relative normalcy, and after several years the family managed to emigrate to Canada. Sol attended school, where he excelled, setting him on a path for success in later life.
Peter Nesselroth was born in Berlin on March 1, 1935. When the situation for Jews worsened, his family moved to Belgium when he was almost 4 years old. After Kristallnacht, his parents just couldn’t reconcile staying in Germany any longer, so they moved to Brussels. During this time, Peter couldn’t go to school, so his father taught him at home. When his father was taken away, Peter and his mother went into hiding, and the young Peter grew accustomed to his new life. Peter and his mother would be taken into custody too – arrested by the Gestapo – but as Peter was ill, he was allowed to go to the hospital, from which his escape would be orchestrated. At that time, he fled to Switzerland and was adopted by others. Peter is currently 83 years old and living in Toronto. Peter Nesselroth was interviewed for this project on January 11, 2018, when he spoke to English 8 and History 10 students
Anna was born in Poland.; she is a survivor of the Holocaust. She spent three years in concentration camps, being sent there when she was only 22 years old. She was in Auschwitz-Birkenau for much of this time. When the war was over, she got married and moved to the United States where she had children and started a family. She was interviewed for this project at Baycrest by Crestwood student Sammy Steiman.
Erica Nirenberg was born in 1931 in a small town in Romania. She had 3 siblings but they passed away at a young age. When she was 12 years old, her father was rounded up by the Russian Army and never returned. She and her mother fled to a large Romanian city called Czernovitz to escape capture. A close family friend was instrumental in ensuring her survival during the war.
Mrs. Nirenberg immigrated to Toronto when she was 18 years old. She attended a business program and eventually found work as a bookkeeper. She later worked with her husband in their clothing store. At the age of fifty, she decided to go back to school and earned a degree in bookkeeping from George Brown College.
Mrs. Nirenberg was married to her husband Arnold (Adash) for 52 years until he passed away. She has two sons –Joel who lives in Florida and David who lives in Toronto. She has five grandchildren. She is very close to her family.
Mrs. Nirenberg enjoys knitting and reading and is very interested in history and politics. She likes to keep physically active and enjoys chair exercise, swimming and walking. She loves to spend time with family and friends.
She was interviewed for this project in March 2015 by Marina Morris, Liam Mayer, and Blair Gwartzman.
Aaron Nussbaum was born in Sandomierz in Poland. He stayed here until he could not hide from the Nazis anymore. He spent 8 months in Bergen Belsen where he was rescued by American troops. Aaron was sent to Palestine at the age of 13, until he joined his mother and brother in Canada. He fought in the Palmach for the independence of Israel. He fought in the Negev Brigade. He later moved to Canada to be with his mother and brother in Toronto.
He was interviewed for this project by Crestwood students Adam Orenstein and Mitchell Ber.
Eva Olsson grew up in Hungary, born into a Jewish family in Satu Mare, Hungary. She remembers the family’s Hasidic traditions, and the poverty and simplicity of her early life. Like other Hungarian Jews, Eva was comparatively isolated from the war raging all around them; they heard rumours and such, but as Hungary was allied with the Axis powers, day-to-day life was relatively unchanged. That was not the case after May 1944 though; Nazi Germany occupied its Hungarian ally, and Hungarian Jews immediately felt the weight of the Shoah. Eva and her family were now inside the ghetto, and with in a matter of weeks the deportations began. The family walked seven kilometres and were boarded on to the waiting boxcars, where the brutal conditions were unrelenting for four days. They arrived in Auschwitz-Birkenau and with the selections, the family was separated, with most going to the gas chambers and crematoria. Eva and her sisters were selected fro slave labour, and after spending a few weeks in the camp, they were sent to Dusseldorf, and then Essen, Germany, to work in the Krupp factory system. Eva spent some time there during the winter of 1944-45, and was present during the day-and-night bombing that made up the Allies’ Ruhr bombing campaign. Bombs eventually destroyed the part of the factory where Eva was working, so she and the other forced labourers were herded into a hole in the ground, before being forced on to the boxcars again. This time she was sent to Belsen, which would be her final destination. She spent several months there, barely surviving starvation and disease, when the British liberated the camp in April 1945. That is when her emotional and physical recovery began, and during this time she made the decision to relocate herself and her sister to Sweden. There she would meet Rudi, her eventual husband, and a few years later the two made the journey to Canada, where they settled and raised their family.
Eva did not speak about her experiences for many years; in fact, it was only when her grandchildren were old enough – fifty years after the fact – that she began to open up, first to the grandchildren’s classes, and then to audiences all over Canada, and even at the United Nations. Eva has a passion for social justice and her mission is to maintain the legacy and the memory of those that were murdered during the Shoah.
Eva Olsson was interviewed in her home in Bracebridge, Ontario by Scott Masters in July 2018.
Norma Orlan is a Holocaust Survivor from Jaworsno, Poland. A child when the German invasion began, she managed to survive a succession of labour camps during the war, including Gross Rosen. With the conclusion of the war she found herself in the Fohrenwald DP camp. She and new group of friends made their way out of Europe; she and her husband would eventually settle in Canada. From there she started her family, including Tammy Ross, an educator in Toronto, with whom Crestwood has shared some ties in recent years.
Norma was interviewed for this project at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa by Sabrina Wasserman, Erika Thomazi and Madeleine Leftwick.
Edith Pagelson’s personal story of survival began in Germany. She and her family were victims of Hitler’s Nazi regime well before the war began, feeling the sting of the Nuremberg Laws and Kristallnacht all through the 1930s. She and her family were deported from Duisberg to the Terezin Ghetto, where Edith’s father died. After spending some time, she and her mother were sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where they spent a few months before being selected as labourers and sent to Stutthof, on the eastern front. They laboured as the Soviet Red Army closed in and the end of the war drew near. After liberation, Edith fought to regain her health, and she and her mother managed to get back to Germany, from where they later emigrated to the United States, where she settled in Brooklyn.
Edith was interviewed by Scott Masters in her home in Portland, Maine, along with Chuck Sanford and David Astor, both of whom appear in the Military Veterans section of the Oral History Project.
Susan Pasternak, born Sissi Friedman was 7 months old when the war broke out in September of 1939. She was born on February 1st, 1939 in Zambriow, which is in northeastern Poland. Her parent’s names were Mordechai and Sarah Friedman and Susan was their first and only child. Her father had his own bakery shop and they lived a good life, until one day the Nazis took all the Jews to the ghetto. Susan was fortunate enough to never see an extermination camp as her birth mother arranged for a Polish woman to hide the family, though not her father, who unfortunately was killed in the ghetto. Susan and her mother managed to sneak out of the ghetto and arrive at a Polish woman’s apartment. They lived there for three and a half years, under a table. It was covered however with a black cloth that covered the entire table and went all the way down to the floor so that they could not be seen by anybody. After those three and a half years, Susan’s mother wrote to her sister, Rosa Weinstein, who lived in Canada. Her sister then gave passage for them to come to Canada. On the way her mother had a heart attack and died, and Susan was then sent to an orphanage in France, and from there to Germany, where she stayed for two years. Her mother’s sister wondered what had happened to them, so she enlisted help from the international Red Cross. In May 1947, two years after the war had ended, her aunt sent passage to England; Susan then went from England to Halifax. She then met her in Halifax, making Susan one of the first children to cross the Atlantic after the war ended.
Susan spoke at Crestwood in December 2014, when she presented her story to Mrs. Pagano’s English 8 class.
Margaret Perl is a Holocaust Survivor who went through the full horros of the Nazi onslaught, surviving the deportations, the ghetto, starvation, Auschwitz, and a death march at the end of the war. She shared her thoughts at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa, sitting down with Crestwood students Kaily Wise, Steph Tanz, and Madi Brown in February 2011.
Sophie Pollack, like other Jewish children living in Europe at the time of the Second World War, had her childhood snatched away from her at the hands of the Nazis. Born in Skierniewice, Poland, Sophie told us about her miraculous story of survival, after being placed in the Koluszki Ghetto and then just barely managing to escape and hide in a barn in the early years of the war. Only later did she find out that a few days after her escape, the Nazis had liquidated the Koluszki ghetto. Sophie found a family that allowed her to hide with them in the winter and work on their farm during the summers. Sophie grants her survival during that period of time to the fact that she did not have the typical look of a Polish Jew, or at least what the Nazis believed a Polish Jew would look like. This was the only reason that she was able to live and to not be questioned about her true identity. However, as the years went by and the Nazi regime grew stronger and more frightening, her hiders could no longer take the risk of housing a Jew anymore and she had to go on her own. She ended up surviving the war by hiding her Jewish identity in Germany, and she miraculously ended up finding her two sisters, spending the final years of the war with them. When the time of liberation came, she remembers the bombings, as she was in Germany at the time, but most of all she was just taken over by pure happiness. When the war finally came to an end, she went into a displaced persons camp (DP Camp). She stayed there until 1948, and her sister, as many people did in these camps, found a husband and got married. Sophie is a Polish Jew, who not only survived the time of the war, but was actually able to reunite with her family, and go on to move to Canada and get married and have a family of her own.
- George Preger is a Holocaust survivor, and a Crestwood grandparent. He was born in 1936, in Vienna, Austria, an only child. George moved from city to city during the war but primarily lived in bunkers in Budapest to avoid being captured in the war. Remarkably he and his family were able to stay one step ahead of the Nazis; George learned a false identity and even evaded the SS close up. He is 80 years old now, and he currently lives in Toronto, Ontario. This interview happened in December of 2016, at Crestwood Preparatory College, where George was interviewed by Aaron Little, Tristan Agensky, Rylie Tishler, and Yurina Kobayashi, and by his grandsons Levi and Reuben.
The Reesers were born in what is now Czech Republic, formerly known as the Czechoslovakia, in a small town provincial town of about 30,000 people, located about 60 km west of Prague. Karl’s life in Rakovnik was very pleasant and luxurious. He and his family lived in a very large house facing the pretty main square, called Husovo namesti.
When the German invasion happened, things changed quickly though; and with the implementation of the Nuremberg Laws, the Reesers made their way from Prague to Paris.
In Paris, life for the Reeser family consisted largely of meeting with members of the small Czech community and pursing arrangement to emigrate to Canada. After a week or so, they received word that their visas to Canada were ready to be picked up; at the Canadian Consulate they received all documents required to Enter Canada as permanent immigrants. Moving to Canada was a very difficult process for the Reeser family because of the barriers encountered by European Jews, but they made it, and Karl remains thankful for that.
Karl was interviewed for this project in January 2014 by Crestwood student Joanna Estey.
Paul-Henri Rips was born on October 23, 1929 in Antwerp, Belgium. He lived with his father Isadore, mother Faja and sister Sina. Paul described his years before the war as his “golden childhood”. There were mutterings of what was to come but his childhood was pleasant. On May 10th 1940 Belgium was invaded by Germany. Paul was woken up by anti-aircraft guns. Paul’s first thought was that there would be no school. Paul and his family, along with thousands of others of refugees fled into France. They reached the River Somme where German soldiers were stationed. These soldiers were young and kind. They told them to go home and that the war was over for them. New regulations and rules were passed for Jews. A curfew was enforced and Jews were forbidden to walk on sidewalks and had to wear a yellow star. From there, Paul and his family experienced the escalating severity of Nazi policies, as they ended up in jail, in the Malines and Pithviers camps, and ultimately were fortunate enough to go into hiding, where they awaited the end of the war.
Paul-Henri Rips came to us courtesy of the Azrieli Foundation, who published his memoirs a few years ago. He was interviewed for this project by Sydney Swartz, Lili Mancini, Sarah Mainprize, Lara Franklin, and Tristan Lim.
Hank Rosenbaum was born into a comfortable Jewish family in Warsaw in 1936. The German invasion of Poland turned life for the Rosenbaum family upside down. He and his family would spend the next 6 years in and out of ghettos- escaping and evading the Germans on multiple occasions. He spent the final years of the war living with Jewish partisans in the forests of Poland. His story is an amazing one of Jewish resistance in Poland. He shared his story in 2014 with Maya Morrow.
Helen Rosenbaum was just under two years old when her family decided to escape the brutality of anti-Semitism in Poland by fleeing to the Soviet Union. Her family’s decision to flee would spare Helen the horrors of the death camps, but it wasn’t without struggles and terror. From the horrors of Nazi-occupied Poland, to the harsh conditions of Siberia, Helen’s story is a unique glimpse into one family’s struggle to survive.
Helen was interviewed by grade 10 student Hannah White, in early 2014.
Fay Rosenberg lived in Poland before the Second World War, and as she says, she and her family were living a good life. But when the war began, Fay says that as the parents began to show their fears, the children did as well. Fay and her family found themselves in eastern Poland at the war deepened, and as they were in the Soviet zone, they ended up being resettled in Siberia, where they lived a harsh life during the war years. Fay’s story reminds us that the Holocaust was experienced in many ways.
We met Fay at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa in February 2012, where she sat down for an interview with Jake Borinsky, Eric Freedman, Savannah Yutman, and Kendra Casey.
Freda Rosenberg is a Holocaust Survivor from Radom, Poland. She survived the full weight of the war years, passing through a number of ghettoes and camps, including Auschwitz Birkenau. When the Red Army was approaching, she was forced on a death march, which she recounts in detail here. Surviving that ordeal too, Freda was liberated by the Russians. She returned to Poland, only to discover that she was not welcome in her homeland. Fortunately she was able to emigrate, and she eventually made her way to Canada, where she rebuilt her life.
Freda Rosenberg was interviewed for this project in September 2014 at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa, by Crestwood students Akib Shahjahan and Ahmed Izzeldin.
Nathan Rosenberg is a survivor of the Second World War and the Shoah. While so many Jews were caught up in that terrible period of history, Nathan and his family were fortunate to escape, and what makes their story different is that they escaped to the east, into the heart of the USSR. When their ghetto was being liquidated, the family was able to hide between two buildings, later coming out and walking in the direction of Russia. Eventually they were put on trains by Soviet forces, and sent into the heart of Siberia, where the family toiled away under difficult conditions. Once Operation Barbarossa took place, Polish Jews in the USSR were given a choice of where they wanted to go, and Nathan’s family made their way to Uzbekistan, hoping eventually to make it to Palestine. But the family’s choice proved challenging, and sadly much of Nathan’s family died against the backdrop of the Soviet hinterland. The survivors initially went to Poland as the war ended, and then to a DP camp in Austria, with later stops in Italy and France. While two siblings headed for Israel, Nathan made his way to Canada, where he built a life and career for himself, beginning in Timmins and later in Toronto.
Nathan was referred to us by author Alvin Abram, and he visited us in May 2018, when he was interviewed by Mr. Masters’ History 12 class.
Helen Roth was born towards the end of the Great Depression. Helen was only in elementary school when World War 2 began. She had 2 sisters and four brothers and out of all of them only her and her brother are still alive today. Helen’s father passed away when she was 3, so he did not have to go through the Holocaust, but her mother and siblings did. They were first sent to a ghetto, and later to the camps. Right away when Helen arrived in Auschwitz, she was separated from all of her family except her sister. Helen went through everything from working so long in the winters she would get frostbite to physically watching people be shot right in front of her on the death marches at war’s end. She was resilient, and made a life for herself after the war, getting married and having a child. When the communist grip settled over Romania, she and her husband escaped, making their way to Israel and eventually Canada.
Helen Roth was referred to us by the Azrieli Foundation, and she was interviewed in February 2015 at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa by Maddie Elman, Sam Katz, Rachael Pape, and Alex Sanders.
David Rybowski is a survivor from Lodz, Poland. He experienced the full weight of the Holocaust, living in the ghetto before being deported to a series of camps and subjected to slave labour before surviving death marches at the war’s end. He spoke to Crestwood students Gabi Sandler, Sam Wasserman, So Hee Pyo, and Dov Houle at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa in May 2011. In February 2013, he agreed to a second interview, this time with Isabelle Pinto, Sidra Fisch, and Gabi Sandler.
Simon Saks was born in Poland in 1932. He was taken by the Nazis from his home at the age of 7, and was imprisoned until his liberation at the age of 13. He had one year of education at a public school before that time. Simon at first was in the Warsaw Ghetto; there he worked in a factory. When the deportations began, Simon passed through five labour camps, including Buchenwald and Gross Rosen. With the conclusion of the war he was able to make his way to England, and then to Canada.
Simon was interviewed for this project in February 2014 by Daniel Rokin.
Kitty Salsberg was born in Budapest, Hungary, on November 14, 1932. Orphaned after the war, Kitty and her younger sister, Ellen, immigrated to Canada in 1948 through the Canadian Jewish Congress’s War Orphans Project.
Kitty graduated from teachers’ college in 1954 and enjoyed a long and fulfilling career, eventually earning her master’s in education. Kitty raised six children and fostered six teenagers.
Vera Schiff was born in 1926, in Prague, Czechoslovakia, to a middle class family. After the Nazi invasion of the country in 1939, her family became marginalized at home until 1942, when they were deported to the concentration camp, Theresienstadt. She would be the lone survivor from her family. Theresienstadt is also where she met her future husband, Arthur Schiff. They both survived the camp and eventually moved to Israel for 12 years, before settling in Toronto, Canada. She has 2 sons, 6 grandchildren, and 3 great-grandchildren.
Vera came to visit us at Crestwood in December 2013, when she shared her story with Ms. Winograd’s class, followed by an oral history interview with Sifana Jalal and Hailey Friedrichsen.
Rabbi Erwin Schild was born in Mulheim, Germany in 1920. His family, consisting of his parents and two siblings, owned a local store and considered themselves part of the larger community. Erwin went to public school until age 16, when he was forced out of the public system as Nazi restrictions began to increase. At the time he continued his education in Hebrew/rabbinical studies. When Kristallnacht made that impossible, Erwin was taken to Dachau. After a period of detention, he was fortunate to get out of Germany, making his way to Holland, Britain, and eventually Canada, where his internment continued. Upon release, he was able to recommence his life, going on to get married and to have a family, and to begin his career as a rabbi at Adeth Israel.
Rabbi Schild visited us in December 2013, when he spoke to Mr. Hawkins’ World Religions class, which he followed up with an oral history interview with Sabrina and Cassie Wasserman and Jarryd Firestone.
Fela Schwemer is a Holocaust Survivor from Poland. Fela lost most of her family during the war, as she made her way through a series of camps, where she was used as a slave labourer. Fela is a powerful storyteller, and her memory for the little details – the bobby pin that she desperately wanted to hold on to – gives students deep insights into the nature of the Shoah, right down to the level of the individual. When the war came to an end, Fela struggled to put the pieces back together; she married, but lost her first baby. Time spent in Israel was also difficult, as her husband’s military service continued her anxiety. Canada would prove to be her salvation there, and she tells the story of her arrival in Montreal with great fondness.
We met Fela at the Baycrest terraces in February 2015, where she was interviewed by Siena deCuia, Isabella Pinto, Andrew Northey and Sidra Fisch.
George Scott was born in Budapest, Hungary in 1930. He had a relatively big and nice family. “Everything should be okay, but experience changes people, “ he said. The Holocaust turned him into a reflective, quiet boy, puzzled by many things. He recorded that in 1943, his life started to change. All Jews in Hungary were disenfranchised, their properties taken away and restrictions imposed on them. His grandfather’s little house was no longer safe for him. People came to Budapest to escape the Germans. Finally, when Germany occupied Hungary in 1944, several restrictions were placed to against Jews. George could not bear those stringent restrictions, so he and his friend decided to run away. They got rid of the star and got on a train. After this, all the nightmares started.
Unfortunately, the situation was the same after he escaped, and was even worse now that he wasn’t under his family’s protection. Then, he arrived at the Gypsy camp in Auschwitz, where most of his memories were. George was selected through the third selection. His uncle, who was an influential man in the Gypsy camp saved George’s life by tossing a young boy into his place. “It is not a comfortable feeling to know that somebody had to die so that you could be there. It is not easy to ingest to live with, but it was beyond my control” he said. It was hard for him to live with this memory, but he didn’t have time to think that much. The same uncle helped him to go to another camp called Kaufering. There, George reached the highlight of his camp experience. He peeled potatoes in the SS kitchen. “You know, there was a lot, lot to eat, and I feel much better.” He recorded. At that time, people were easy to satisfy just by more food. After several transfers, George was tortured both mentally and physically. Finally, in a huge camp, the Americans came to release them. That morning, George lost consciousness, not only because of his weak body but also the excitement of long-awaited freedom. It was hard for him to believe that things just melted away. The first thing he chose to do was went back to the orphanage in Budapest to check his family, learning that only his Aunt Bertha, Uncle Henrik, and two cousins survived.
George visited us at Crestwood in October 2015, when he spoke to the American History class. He was interviewed for this project by Amy Zhu, Owen Salter, and David McCall.
Leah Segalowitz survived the Nazi invasion and occupation of the Netherlands. She went into hiding, working as a nurse, though she was an active member of the Dutch Resistance. When the war concluded, she emigrated to Palestine, spending a number of years in British detention camps and working in a hospital in Cyprus before arriving in Israel in 1948. She and her husband began their lives together there but emigrated to Canada in 1955, where they raised a family.
Leah was interviewed at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa by Crestwood students Alice Lee and Helia Laridashti in Fenruary 2011.
Zuzana Sermer was born in in the town of Humenné, Slovakia on August 29, 1924. Zuzana had a happy childhood. The war would change that though. In the spring of 1942 all single women who were 16 and older were told to go the police station. All the other women packed their things but Zuzana packed nothing. She spent the whole day telling the police about her sick mother. She was begging and crying. At the end of the day the police had meet the quota of how many women they needed: Zuzana’s life was spared. She went into hiding. The hiding places were “both her refuge and her private hell”. From there Zuzana’s journey began, as she and her parents, and her friends and eventual fiancé Arthur Sermer, sought ways to avoid to avoid the Nazi killing machine. Zuzana lost her parents, and she credits Arthur’s resourcefulness, along with a few miracles, with saving her.
Zuzana was interviewed for this project at her home in Toronto in January 2013 by Charley Swartz, Abby Seigel, Natalie Krause, and Katherine Charness. This interview was facilitated by the Azrieli Foundation, which has published Zuzana’s memoirs under the title Survival Kit. Azrieli also organized a Twitter book club in early 2013, in which Crestwood participated. We at Crestwood thank both the Azrieli Foundation and Zuzana Sermer for including us in their endeavours.
Adam Shtibel was born in the small Polish town of Komarow. Early in the war his town was occupied by the USSR, and later by the Germans. At that time, he served as herdsmen for a local farmer. With the death of his father, Adam continued as labourer for a Polish farmer. Adam saw the round-up of the Jewish population and their being loaded on to cattle cars. The farmer told him that he must leave because of German regulations. Adam met a group of boys and girls from his hometown; they wandered over the countryside begging for food from the peasants. Adam was eventually arrested and brought to a camp where he was sheltered by the Red Cross. Selected by farming family to work in the village of Borki, he described meeting with invading Russian troops. In 1947 Adam learned about the war’s end. Accompanied by the farmer’s wife he traveled to Warsaw and was cared for by the Jewish Committee. Sent to an orphanage, Adam came to realize that he was the sole survivor of his family. At this time, he met Rachel Milbauer, and the two married and moved to Israel, where Adam worked in the aircraft industry and served in the IDF. In 1968 they made their way to Canada.
We met both Adam and Rachel at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa in September 2014, where Adam was interviewed by Steven Feng, Abhishek Chandaria, and Meghan Massad. In January 2018, the Shtibels visited us at Crestwood, and Adam was interviewed by students from CHC2D.
Rachel Shtibel, nee Milbauer, a vivacious and outgoing music lover, lay hidden and silent in an underground bunker in Nazi-occupied Poland for nearly two years. A young child, she managed to survive the war, through her determination and good fortune. After the war, a recovered violin, case and photos hidden away by Rachel’s beloved Uncle Velvel became cherished symbols of survival and continuity. With the darkest days behind her, Rachel met Adam Shtibel and fell in love, and they both set about building a new life together. Half a century later, Rachel decided to explore her memories and author her memoirs.
Rachel and her husband Adam shared their memories with us in September 2014, at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa. Rachel was interviewed by Crestwood students Danielle Gionnas, Izabella Osme and Viki Tao. We would like to thank Baycrest and the Azrieli Foundation for their ongoing support of Crestwood’s Oral History Project. In January 2017, Rachel visited Crestwood and spoke to Mr. DeFranco’s English 8 class, where she was interviewed by Arielle Meyer, Jadaia Reid, Selina Zhao and Jerry Chen.
Born in the small town of Klimontov, Poland in 1938, Saul was only an infant when Europe transformed into a war zone. He was born into a loving family: his father was a banker, his mother was a homemaker, and he had two older brothers. Saul remembers very little of this briefly relatively peaceful life before his family was transferred to Tzozmer ghetto when he was three years old.
While Saul’s story is one of survival, it is also one of loss. Like many other families, the Shulmans were separated during the Holocaust, with no knowledge of each other’s whereabouts or well-being. Saul clearly remembers his tragic separation from his two older brothers. After this traumatic experience, Saul and his mother were deported to a concentration camp. Sometime thereafter they were deported to Auschwitz; it is truly a miracle that Saul survived. He remembers the sleepless nights he endured in cramped barracks.
Eventually, Saul and his mother moved to Canada to start a new chapter of their lives. They arrived here in 1948, when Saul was nine years old. While Saul suffered the devastating loss of his father, brother, grandparents, aunts and uncles, he was thrilled to discover that Perry survived the Holocaust after being liberated from Buchenwald, a German concentration camp. Saul feels proud to live in a nation that espouses the values of diversity, anti-racism, and human rights.
We are proud to have heard his story, and are thankful that he invited us to his home in October 2016, where students Taylor Frankfort and Jonah Patel interviewed him.
Eileen Silberzweig is a Holocaust Survivor from Poland. Though she was only child and her specific memories are limited, she was able to tell Jessica Kelly, Jessica Seger, Katherine Charness, and Ellen McPhadden about the German invasion and about how she and many family members escaped the ghetto and made it into the woods. This was the first time that Eileen told her story, so we are grateful for her brave decision to do so. We would like to thank Anne Max and Shoshonna Yaakobi at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa for helping to set up this interview.
Elisabeth Silverberg is a Holocaust Survivor we met at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa. Before the war she was living an ideal life, with family, and going to school. As the war and the Holocaust began, she was deported to a number of camps, including Auschwitz, where she was a forced labourer. She speaks compellingly of her memories of the camp, including her memory of Anne Frank’s arrival, and what it was like coming of age in that circumstance.
Elisabeth was interviewed by Savannah Yutman and Stephanie Erdman for this project in May 2012.
Stefania Sitbon is a Holocaust Survivor from Poland. She was born just before the war began, so Stefania doesn’t remember the German invasion, or life before the war. The memories she has are of her childhood, a time when things had changed dramatically. Stefania grew up in the chaos and hunger of the Warsaw Ghetto, where her father had taken up resistance against the Nazis – he later participated in the uprising, which he survived. With the help of a righteous Gentile, Stefania and the other members of her family found temporary refuge in the Warsaw Zoo, the subject of the recent film The Zookeeper’s Wife. From there Stefania and her family were separated and sent to convents and surrounding villages, from which they were liberated in 1945. Her reunited family spent the immediate postwar years in Austria and Poland, after which they emigrated to the new nation of Israel, later deciding to go to Canada.
Max Sitzer is a Holocaust Survivor from Poland who has a family connection at Crestwood; he was interviewed by his young cousin Mara Bowman here at the school in March 2013.
Max lived in eastern Poland and was under Soviet rule for the first part of the war, but with the German invasion in 1941 he and his family fell into the hands of the Nazis. Max and his father were lucky enough to survive, when they were able to use connections to go into hiding. Much of the rest of the family was not fortunate however, and most were murdered in Belzec. As the Soviets liberated Max from his hiding place, he joined the Red Army on their march to the east, and Max had the distinction of being an interpreter in war crimes trials, so he was able to assist in bringing to justice those who had killed his family and so many others.
Gerda Sless was born in Brussels and in her young life was raised by her mom, dad and her brother, along with her grandparents. Gerda and her brother shared a great bond and as siblings they had a positive relationship. One morning everything took a turn though – the war intruded upon their idyllic lives. Gerda managed to escape the grip of the Nazis; she went into hiding in a convent, while her brother was taken to Auschwitz. Gerda’s story is the story of a teenaged girl on the run, trying to live her life against a backdrop of upheaval. She was interviewed for this project in November 2016 by Amir Rafati, Arielle Meyer, Serena Iannucci, and Julian Silver.
Mary Speare was born in Budapest, Hungary but has lived in Canada for over 60 years. She went through WW2 and experienced Nazis persecution against Jews. Her father was taken to a labour camp early on, as the family’s fortunes began to unravel. Mary was fortunate to be spared deportation to Auschwitz as her mother put her in the care of the Red Cross. Unfortunately the Arrow Cross came looking for the Jewish children hidden at the nunnery in Buda, and Mary was taken to the Budapest Ghetto, where she was lucky to be reunited with her mother. The two managed to survive their time there, and the Russians liberated them after a short time. Mary left Hungary during the 1956 Revolution, and came to Canada. Mary got married when she came Canada, and eventually had two daughters. She and her new husband brought Mary’s mother to Canada a few years later. Mary was interviewed for this project at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa on February 22nd, 2019 by Alex, Georgia, Kevin and Britney.
Eddie Sterk lived in Holland at the beginning of the war. As his father worked in a hospital, Eddie and his family were able to evade the early deportations, which slowly saw Amsterdam’s Jews transported “to the east”. Eddie’s siblings were eventually taken, and soonafter Eddie and his parents were rounded up as well. Eddie was placed into several prison camps, including Westerbork and Auschwitz-Birkenau. Eddie was lucky to survive an injury he suffered while performing forced labour near Birkenau. He also survived the death marches in the winter of 1944-45, as the camp was evacuated as the Red Army drew near. Eddie was later liberated by the Americans and he returned to Holland, where he was fortunate to be reunited with his parents.
Eddie was interviewed at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa by Crestwood student Matt Laramie in 2009; in 2010, Eddie again welcomed us and sat down with Sam Wasserman and Madi Brown. And in 2012, Eddie agreed to be interviewed again, this ime by Emma Myers, Brandon Lee, and Thomas Yanovski.
George Stern survived the Holocaust in Hungary. A teenage boy at the time, George lost most of his family, but he was fortunate to go into hiding in the countryside. He remembers that he lost his Barmitzvah to the war. When the conflict was over, he emigrated to Israel and later to Canada, where he built a successful life and raised a family which includes his grandson Josh, a Crestwood alumnus. George was interviewed for this project by Natalie Krause and Kristen Stribopoulos.
Paul Szabo was born in 1933 Hungary. His family was made up of his mother, father and sister, who was 3 years older than he. Paul’s father was a manager in charge of a small factory manufacturing plumbing fixtures. His mother was an accountant before the war, working for a pharmaceutical company. Paul and his family grew up in a very nice city in Hungary named Khust. Paul’s father was taken from his home in 1942, along with Paul, and they were separated as his father was put into a labour battalion. Paul and his family were later taken from his house, and in 1944 they were placed into a detention centre – a brick factory – along with his mother’s entire family. Paul was later transported to a labour camp because he was young and in good physical shape. Paul was transferred to Bergen Belsen and was able to escape the trauma on the Kastner train, which transported Jews out of concentration camps from Auschwitz and Bergen Belsen. After the war, Paul finished grade school and later graduated in engineering. He came to Canada as a refugee in 1976, and has lived in Canada ever since.
Paul Szabo was interviewed at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa in December 2018, by a delegation of senior history students.
Harry was born in a small town known as Sernike, in Pinsk, Poland on May 10, 1935. He was the youngest of his ten siblings. His father was an owner of a lumber business and his mother was a busy home maker. Harry was 4 years old at the outbreak of World War Two. When Harry’s parents realized it was only a matter of time before the Nazis took over their village they planned to escape. Harry’s parents owned a farm on the side of town and sent word to about 50 people, mostly family members to meet during the day. That night they escaped into the forest. My grandfather spent 4 years in the forest hiding with his family. All of Harry’s family survived except for one older brother and his father who passed away right after the war. The goal was to once again escape from Poland. They traveled from Pinsk, deep into Poland, to Austria, to Italy and spent 3 years there and finally moved to Canada.
Andrew Tylman was born in November 1933, and he grew up in the town of Sochaczew, Poland. His early life took place in a largely Jewish milieu,and the family was prosperous, vacationing in Glowno and prominent in the community. The onset of the war changed the situation dramatically; as violence in his small town began to escalate, the family decided to seek safety in the larger nearby city of Warsaw. They ended up in the Warsaw Ghetto, where Andrew would spend much of the war, dealing with the deprivations that ghetto life entailed – hunger, disease, overcrowding, and mounting despair. Andrew recalls that conditions deteriorated when the deportations began, and he and family members began to go into hiding, often in very dire circumstances. Andrew’s father made the decision to secret him out of the ghetto at this point, and Andrew was separated from his parents and sent outside the walls while the Warsaw Ghetto uprising began. Both parents took part in that act of resistance, and Andrew’s mother was killed in the sewers. His father managed to escape, and Andrew and he would be reunited afterwards, when they met in the forests alongside the partisans. They spent much of the rest of the war in hiding, shuttling from one location to the next as they stayed outside the Nazis’ grip. When the Soviet army came, they were suddenly liberated and wondering where to go. Andrew’s father made the decision to return to Sochaczew, where they learned the fate of much of their family. They stayed in Poland for a time, but the Kielce Pogrom made Andrew’s father decide to send his son to France, and the family followed after a time, later deciding to emigrate to Canada, when the family settled in Toronto and started over.
Andrew Tylman visited Crestwood in December 2018, when he spoke to Mr. Birrell’s class and Georgia Gardner. We thank the Azrieli Foundation for their help in facilitating this.
Leonard Vis was born in Amsterdam, Holland, in 1930. After the Germans occupied the Netherlands, his family went into hiding. They all survived and were liberated in 1945. Leonard After the war, Leonard served two years in the Dutch Army before moving to New York. In 1967, Leonard came to Canada for a job posting. Leonard came to visit us at Crestwood early in 2016. He was interviewed for this project by Marina Nevison and Aren Karshafian, along with students from Mr. Masters’ Grade 12 history class.
Mia Frank survived the war as a hidden child in Belgium. Her stepmother’s quick thinking did save Mia, but both her stepmother and father were killed during the Holocaust. Mia was interviewed by Crestwood student Hayley Goldsand on a Baycrest field trip in early 2009.
Sally Wasserman is the only child survivor of the Dambrowa ghetto, which was located in southern Poland, not too far from Auschwitz-Birkenau. When her family was forced into the ghetto, her mother encountered Mr. Turken, a man who did work for the authorities in the ghetto. He and his wife agreed to take Sally in as a hidden child, and they kept her safe for the duration of the war, as the ghetto was being liquidated. Sally’s immediate family did not survive the Holocaust. After the war, Sally left the Turkens and Poland; she ended up in the Belsen DP camp before she made her way to New York City and eventually to her aunt in Toronto.
Sally is an entrancing speaker who works with both the Holocaust center and the Center for Diversity. She has shared her story with many Crestwood students over the years, including at our Human Rights and Diversity Symposium in November 2012. She was interviewed for this project by Stephanie Tanz and Kaily Wise. In 2015 Sally again visited us, speaking to Miss Young’s class and then doing an interview with Amanda, Minami and Tomer.
On December 7th, 2015, six students from Crestwood Preparatory College went to the Baycrest Centre to interview Sam Weisberg, accompanied by his wife, Rosa.
Sam is a Holocaust survivor, born to a Jewish family in a German-speaking region of Poland called Silesia in 1927. He was taken to the Krakow ghetto, and later to multiple concentration camps including Plaszów (as featured in Schindler’s List) and Bergen Belsen. He lives in Toronto with his wife (also a survivor). They have a daughter, six grandchildren and 14 great-grandchildren!
Allen Weiss was born in Romania in 1929. Allen had loving parents along with two sisters and a brother. He grew up in a small village where his family owned a grocery store. Allen was 14 years old when the Nazis forced him out of his village. Allen was taken to Auschwitz – Birkenau with his father . In 1945, he was sent on a death march. Lucky to escape, Allen and his friends were walking when they came across the Russian army. They accidentally shot him! He was immediately sent to a Russian hospital where he remained for six months. After the war, he moved to Canada where he met his wife, Grace. He and his wife had four children, and he now has six grand children. Allen has been involved in numerous Holocaust remembrance projects, including this one where he was interviewed by Crestwood student Tiffany Tanz.
Rachel Weisz was living in Budapest when the war began. Both Rachel’s mother and father were originally from Poland. Her father and uncles owned a textile factory, though Rachel’s family was the only one with Hungarian citizenship. When Rachel was in grade 6 her family hit hard times. Her father and uncles were arrested because the Hungarian wanted to take control of their textile factory. He was eventually released just as the war was becoming a reality in Hungary.
Rachel’s parents were aware of what was happening in other parts of Europe through people escaping from Poland to Budapest . Rachel ended up with another family hiding in a truck that was supposed to take them to Prague, but they were caught. Rachel was taken to a camp, from which she was fortunate to be released. She went home to her parents, who sent her to work in another factory so she wouldn’t have to go to a ghetto.
Rachel ended up working in a Swiss consulate . There she would make fake papers and certificates so that other Jews could escape persecution . She joined a Zionist organization and wanted to go to Israel, but eventually she moved to Canada to join her family .
Rachel spoke to Crestwood students Madison Brown and Sam Wasserman in May 2010. This was Rachel’s very first time sharing her story with an audience and we’d like to thank her for choosing us and taking her time to tell us about her experiences during WW2.
Lenka Weksberg was born in Tacovo, Czechoslovakia, in 1926. In 1944, the entire family was deported to the Mathesalka Ghetto in Hungary and then to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where her mother and brother were murdered. Lenka survived a slave labour camp in Geislingen, and Alach, as well as a death march. Lenka was liberated by the US Army in April 1945. After the war, Lenka returned to Czechoslovakia, then moved to Israel, and finally immigrated to Canada in 1953. She is the grandmother of Crestwood alumnus Jamie Weksberg. Lenka visited us in 2012, sharing her story with Mr. Masters’ history class.
Ann Wigoda was born in Berlin, Germany on August 23, 1932. Growing up in the 1930s, she was too young to understand many of the political changes, but as a child she does remember the increasing tensions, in the house and especially with the other children in the neighbourhood. By the middle of the decade the situation deteriorated further, and her father went to Belgium, making arrangements for the family to follow. The family adapted, but the hatred followed them, and with the start of the war once again life was precarious. Her father was taken away, eventually dying in the final days of the war. Ann’s mother was able to get Ann into hiding, and Ann spent most of the war in a convent, protected by the nuns. With the end of the war Ann lived in an orphanage, run by the Tiefenbruner family, while her mother dealt with the emotional impacts of the Shoah and the loss of her husband.
Ann Wigoda came to us courtesy of the Azrieli Foundation. She was interviewed at her home by Scott Masters and Savannah Yutman in July 2015.
“Look out for people regardless their race, religion, you accept everybody…”
– Gershon Willinger
Hana Windwar was born in 1933 in Warsaw, Poland. She was six years old when the war began and she was the only child of her parents. She went to Russia with her parents. Her dad was taken to Russia, and forced into the army during the war. Her mom needed to work and Hana was put in a orphanage. Hana went back to Germany after the war but lost contact with her mom. She met her husband in 1948 when Hana and her mom were waiting emigrate to Israel. She was married in 1951, and moved to Canada in 1966. Crestwood students visited Hana at Baycrest in February 2016 to hear her story.
Helen was born in Lithuania, in 1932. In 1944, after the Kovno Ghetto was liquidated, Helen and her mother were shipped to the Stutthof concentration camp. The men were separated, including Helen’s father Yitzhak, who was taken to Dachau and killed. In January of 1945, Helen and her mother were left behind while the Jews of the camp went on a death march. Nazi soldiers then entered their tent and injected them with a poisonous substance. While several others died, miraculously, Helen and her mother survived. In 1948, Helen came to Canada where she has made it her life’s work to teach Canadian students about the terrible consequences of hatred and intolerance. Helen married Aaron Yermus in 1952, and Helen and Aaron have three children and nine grandchildren.
Helen visited us at Crestwood in January 2018, when she spoke to English 8 students. Arielle Meyer and senior students edited her interview for this webpage.
Mina Zaidman was born in Miedzyrzec, Poland, in 1934. She lived in a small house with her parents and younger brother. She was only 4 ½ when the war broke out and does not really remember much about life before that. Before Germany invaded Miedzyrzec, the Russian army occupied the city as part of the Nazi-Soviet Non-Aggression Pact settlement. When the Russians left, Mina’s father joined his brother and went to Belarus, leaving Mina, her brother and mother alone in Poland. Mina and her family eventually went to Belarus to find her father and that began their difficult journey throughout the war years. Mina went through many hardships, from traveling to Belarus, with only what she could carry, to being sent to Siberia and then a Kolkhoz (farm collective) in Kazakhstan, where she and her family waited out the war. Mina eventually immigrated with her husband and baby to Israel in 1957 and then to Toronto in 2008, where she is to this day, and very happy. Mina was interviewed for this project at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa in February of 2019 by Matthew Lungen, Kathryn Tuns, Rowina Debalkew and Lyndsay McCulloch.
Simon Zelcovitch was born in Poland shortly before the onset of the war. When his father foresaw the approaching Nazi invasion, the family fled to Russia, where they lived in ghettoes. With the escalation of the Holocaust, the family followed Simon’s older brother Yossel into the forest, where they took refuge in the Bielski Brothers’ family camp. With the exception of his brother, killed during partisan activity, the Zelcovitch family survived the war. They emigrated to Canada shortly after and began their new lives in Winnipeg. Their lives are profiled in the film Defiance.
Simon’s family story also appears in the book Fugitives of the Forest. Mr. Masters read about him and contacted him; Simon has visited Crestwood on several occasions now; in the fall of 2012, he was interviewed by Savannah Yutman and Kristen Stribopoulos. In 2016 he returned to visit Mr. Hawkins’ class, and students reworked his story for this project.
Helen Zeller grew up in Poland. She was living a very comfortable life with her family when the war began, quickly changing everything. While most of her family was lost, Helen and a few others were fortunate to escape the liquidation. She was able to survive in a bunker and the forest, dependent on a few Righteous Poles to stay alive.
Helen came to us courtesy of Baycrest, where we interviewed her at a Cafe Europa in February 2013.
Rose Zimmerman comes from Poland, where she and her family were living a normal life before 1939. The advent of the war saw all of that turned upside down; she and her family experienced the full weight of the Shoah, and Rose herself ended up a slave labourer in Auschwitz, before ending the war in the Bergen Belsen death camp.
We met Rose at Baycrest’s Cafe Europa in February 2012, where she sat down with Jenny Wilson, Cathy Kim, Ryan Seigel, and Cam Teboekhurst for a interview about her experiences.
Seymour Zweig was born in 1921 in Lodz, Poland. After the Nazis invaded, Zweig was forced to flee to Russia, where he spent the remainder of the war. In Russia, he joined the army and did war work in an aluminum factory, where he even worked alongside German prisoners of war. After the war, Zweig wrote a letter to the Jewish Congress in Toronto and was able to emigrate to Canada in April 1948, where he eventually took on a career running his own paint store. Seymour was interviewed at Baycrest in December of 2018 by students from Crestwood Preparatory College.
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Cory Haaf, Graduate of the University of Delaware Nursing Program is entering his 9th month as a new-grad nurse in the Cardiac Surgery ICU at University of Maryland Medical Center. He is working on a unit where patients with tracheostomies are frequent and require a lot of attention, specifically when they are being weaned off of a ventilator and cannot completely control their secretions.
"One of the first times I had a patient on my unit with a trach that required frequent suctioning, I immediately thought of our simulations in school and how accurately the simulated participants portrayed the scenario.
In school, I was thinking to myself that this reaction was dramatic. I thought "no one is going to look like this while I'm suctioning them." I figured they would look relieved. Boy, was I wrong! The Healthcare Theatre students paired with the responsiveness of Avtrach helped to simulate exactly what I encounter on a regular basis! It taught me how patients react, how to educate patients with new trachs on how it is going to feel, and how to prepare for trach care.
I continue to think about my experience with Avtrach almost every day. I've spoken to my colleagues about our experience in the lab with the Healthcare Theatre™ students and the Avkin simulators. I've heard repeatedly that they wish they would've had something like that to work with during their time in school.
My experience as an undergraduate at the University of Delaware has helped make me a better nurse. Because, we have all heard that our patients may not remember what we said, but how we made them feel during their hospital stay, and that's what patient centered care is all about."
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Description: Black and white photograph, measuring 8 inches by 10 inches
History: The S.S. Charles C. Pinckney, named after a prominent South Carolinian from the Revolutionary era, was the 10th Liberty ship to be launched in Wilmington. Miss Margaret McMahon, a daughter of a shipyard company official, was the ship’s sponsor. Her official “maid of honor” at the launch was then 14-year-old Wilmingtonian Katherine Rhett.
In the late 1930s, city leaders, under the auspices of Louis T. Moore (1885-1961) and the Chamber of Commerce, wanted a shipyard to come to the region again because of the economic boost it would provide. In June, 1940 the Shipyard for Wilmington Committee was formed. City Councilman J.E.L. Wade (1889-1980), known locally as “Hi Buddy” Wade, even went to Washington DC to lobby for a shipyard in Wilmington. The town was succesful in its efforts to lure the industry to town. Wilmington beat out Morehead City for a yard, and the North Carolina Shipbuilding Company, which was a subsidiary of the Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company, was built on the banks of the Cape Fear River in February 1941.
Originally, the shipyard was built on 57 acres and had 6 slips for keels. It expanded during the course of the war and by March 1943, there were three more shipways, and the site covered an additional 27 acres. By May 25, 1943, less than 2 years later, the yard finished its 100th freighter. And by war’s end, the yard had produced 243 ships. After the war, the shipyard was dissolved quickly. The site became the state port.
Although the shipyard was a small part of the nation’s bigger war effort, it had an enormous influence on life in Wilmington. Before the war, there were a few thousand manufacturing workers in Wilmington. During the war, Wilmington’s shipyard became the largest employer in the state with more than 20,000 workers. The yard employed blacks and whites, men and some women. It ran three shifts, 24 hours a day. According to Helen Dobson’s reminisces (she was a school teacher who worked at the shipyard in the summer) “When you got there, it was if you were arriving at a fairground. They had those noisy amplifiers going, lots of ‘hullabaloo’ and selling of things at seven in the morning! This place that was pure dirt before was just a mass of people!”
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This man has the BALLS, I’ll give you that! From the Front Page Sections, translated…
A man, Lu had an affair, he’d even set up so that his wife, and his spare, Hsu and he went together, on a worshipping trip; he’d lied to his wife, that Hsu was a coworker, and lied to Hsu about how his wife was his ex-wife, and, he was able to, get away. Later on, Lu started becoming suspicious, and, his wife checked his cell, and found, that her husband was having an ongoing affair, and the other woman was pregnant, she sued her husband and Hsu for adultery.
As the Taipei District Attorney’s Office was investigating the details of the cases, Lu paid his wife, and she’d dropped the case against him, and, Hsu was found, to not known about Lu was already married, and yesterday, both of them got the charges dropped against them.
Lu who works in the transportation industry has a son with his wife, during 2013, he’d met Hsu, who was two years older than he, they became a couple; because of Lu’s job, he’d often taken Hsu out on trips, and, because they are both very religious, they’d gone to the temples.
At the start of last year, Lu took his wife and Hsu on a worshipping group trip, Lu lied to his wife about Hsu being his coworker, and his wife believed him, but, after that trip the three of them took together, Lu had found an assortment of excuses, to go to work early and to come home late, his wife realized that something wasn’t quite right, started zooming in on her husband’s whereabouts.
Last August, Lu’s wife snuck into her husband’s text message to his own mother, and it was about how he admitted to having a “spare wheel”, and she’d found another text of Hsu’s words of anger to her husband after they had a fight, it’d mentioned, “These two children are my pains forever, you wouldn’t know”, that, was when Lu’s wife realized, that the “coworker” her husband talks about was actually his whore.
As the D.A. prosecuted the case, Hsu admitted to having sex with Lu, but claimed that she didn’t know he was already married; Lu also told, that he didn’t tell Hsu that he was already married, and so, the D.A. believed, that there was no proof, of Hsu knowing, that Lu was already married.
Yeah, uh, you’ve GOT to be shitting me, right? What the F***? And this man still hid behind the BIG shield called “religion”, wow! And, this still just shows, how BAD they can behave, IF we don’t keep them in check!
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It was October 31st and evening was starting to fall. You could still see a little bit of sun in the sky, but soon it would be dark enough for all the kids of Remnant to go out into the night. Adorned with costumes in hopes of getting bags full of candy.
The thought of this was enough to give Ruby Rose a brief smile on her face. Something she most certainly welcomed given her not very great at all mood.
It had been about two years since the eon-old threat to the world known as Salem had been defeated and so many amazing things had happened since then that Ruby didn't even know where to begin.
Raven had atoned for her misdeeds and now lived happily with the rest of the family as Raven Xiao Long, Blake had become a pivotal leader in pushing equality for humans and faunus, and Weiss had restored the Schnee name to its former glory. In some ways, even beyond.
A happy ending that Ruby felt her team deserved was only the start though. So many of their other friends had become prominent figures in the newfound peace spreading across Remnant. And she kept in very good touch with all of them.
Jaune, Ren, Nora, Sun, Illia, and one of her most cherished, Oscar.
It had been a long time since Ozpin's merge with Oscar had been completed. Leaving nothing of old wizard within him except thousands of years worth of memories. Ruby was grateful to Ozpin for many things. One of the most notable being the opportunity he allowed for Ruby to meet Oscar. It may have been unintentional, but it brought into Ruby's life the boy who she had fallen in love with, and had now been dating for quite a substantial amount of time.
She had made so many wonderful friends. And it was in the interest of their enjoyment of the evening that she had chosen to keep the reason why she felt so terrible a secret.
October 31st may have been the day of the ever popular Halloween. But it also happened to be Ruby's birthday. A fact that even to this day is something she always found cool. And she had a small amount of pride over the fact that she never let it go her head. Even as a child.
She and her friends, as well as a few notable members of her family and those of some of her friends, were currently on vacation in Mistral. Well, sort of a vacation. Grimm roaming the world were decreasing more and more as time went on. But being the Huntsman and Huntresses responsible for ending the Grimm's very Queen meant that there was no shortage of attempts for people to ask for their help in dealing with very powerful remnants of her minions.
To compensate though, many of their employers made sure to make their off-time of where they were staying as relaxing as possible. If Ruby were to be honest with herself, she considered a lot of the attempts at this to be overkill.
Currently they were all staying at a very spacious house lent to them by the Mistral Council. But they were far from the only visitors.
When offered the position of president of the Schnee Dust company after Jacques' methods became extremely frowned upon, Weiss had declined the offer. And per her request, the Atlas Council chose to disband the company entirely. Agreeing with Weiss completely when she said that the dangerous working conditions her father once enforced should be abolished, and that no one company should have as much power over a resource as valuable as dust as her bloodline once had.
This did lead other people to take up the reigns and start their own dust businesses. None of them had ever reached the point of wealth the Schnee family had acquired, but a few of them had still earned a hefty amount of riches.
One such company was currently hosting a party in Mistral that was both fancy yet halloween themed at the same time. The party encouraged halloween costumes over formal wear for example.
The party was known to be happening for about 3 weeks now, but it was invitation only. Almost everyone who was currently staying at the house rented to Ruby and her friends was invited on the grounds of them being heroes who had contributed to Salems defeat. The only two exceptions were Zwei, because he's a dog, and Ruby herself. At first she thought her invitation was just taking longer to arrive. But she started to get confused as time went on. Some of the party representative's were even asked by Weiss and a few of her other friends if some recognition of Ruby's birthday could be made since the party fell on the same day. The representative's agreed in what seemed like a joyous manner. Which only added to Ruby's confusion.
It was on an outing to check the status of the missions they had been called to Mistral for when she figured out what was going on. She was approached by Whitley Schnee, the little ball of snot that Ruby thought had no right to call himself the brother of Weiss. Progress in equality between humans and faunus had come along greatly over the years. But Whitley was still the same borderline clone of Jacques he had always been. How the Atlas council didn't force the W in his name to be changed to an S by now Ruby would never know.
A matter only made worse by the fact that even after the end of the Schnee Dust Company Whitley was still well-off. Not as wealthy as he once was, but the hefty sum of Lien he was still earning didn't do him in any favors in getting rid of his arrogance.
It had been just under two weeks until the party where he dropped the truth.
"Ah. Ruby Rose. I do hope you're not too upset over your lack of an invitation to the upcoming party."
"No offense. But I kind of doubt you would actually hope that. What makes you think that I don't have an invitation anyway?"
"It's not a matter of "think" it s a matter of "know". And I know because I paid the hostess to retract her decision to invite you."
"Disappointed are we? She had intended to invite you originally. But you know, there's always someone willing to look the other way for some lien. Well I'd best not keep you occupied any further. Enjoy that barbaric waste of time you call being a huntress."
Ruby had a bit of a shocked expression on her face. But knew that approaching Whitley about it any further was pointless. Honestly his low opinion of Huntsman was all she needed to convince herself of that. Like, hello? It was a team of huntresses, one lead by her no less, that killed the greatest threat to the lives of every human and faunus on the planet.
Even so, Ruby was a little irritated. At Whitley for being himself or at the hostess of the party for agreeing to bribery she didn't really know at the moment. Could have been both honestly, but right now she was a little more plagued at how her friends reacted to their invitations.
To say they had all been looking forward to this party was an understatement. It was being very well hyped up and promoted and even Blake showed more excitement than usual at what the event had to offer.
It was a bit of a walk back to the house from where Ruby found out the news and that gave her plenty of time to think. Ultimately she decided that she didn't want to ruin the party for the people close to her. So she had feigned ignorance that she received her invitation and allowed her friends and family to continue anticipating the party. A decision she thought more and more was the better move as the days went by since planning for the event was taking up a lot of everyone s time.
She knew that's what she wanted to do. But honestly it was a big group of people close to her and she had been looking forward to spending her 19th birthday with them. She tried not to let it get to her too much. But the upset feeling just kept growing inside of her.
And now here she was, on that 19th birthday of hers, walking back to a house she knew would be completely barren except for her dog. By this point in time she didn't know how she could keep herself from dropping on the couch and crying when she got there. But she knew this party was important to people important to her.
So she kept up her facade all the way until the end. When everyone was getting ready for the party she stepped out of the house, saying that she had some errands to take care of before the event and that she would meet them there.
If "errands" meant "waiting around out of sight until the parties starting time" then she certainly got a lot done. She had made it back to the house, but by then the party had most certainly already started. She could even see through the windows that the lights were out.
She took a deep breath to try and regain her composure. Then she opened the door and turned on the lights. Once she did, she was caught completely off guard by what happened.
Ruby almost jumped out of her famous red hood in shock. She thought the place would be as empty as Nora's plate on pancake day. But instead she found the house covered in birthday and halloween decorations alike, with more treats scattered about than even her and Nora combined could handle.
And right in the center of it all stood her beloved dog Zwei and her dear boyfriend Oscar. And Professor Port and Dr. Oobleck?
Once Ruby regained her ability to speak she asked "Wha, what is all this? Shouldn't you be at that party Oscar? How did Professor Port and Dr. Oobleck get here?"
Oscar gave a small chuckle and answered her. "Ruby. You know how much I love you and how happy I am to be with you. What kind of boyfriend would I be to not notice that something was bothering you?"
"What do you..."
"I thought you seemed a little down lately. I wondered what was going on and thought it had something to do with the party. Little did that annoying twerp Whitley know that the names of all the invited guests were on display near the site of the event. So when I saw that your name wasn't there I asked a representative to explain. And he told me about how Whitley paid the hostess to not invite you."
"But you were still looking forward to that party. All of you were."
"That changed when I figured out what was going on."
Oscar looked a little dejected for his next statement. "The others really were wrapped up a lot in their plans for it though. I tried to let them know what had happened but their busy schedules didn't really allow me to. I'm sorry."
Oscar felt an impact against him that he was all too familiar with. It wasn't the first time Ruby used her semblance to blast over to him and hug him after all.
"That's okay. I don't hold it against you, or them. I'm just so happy that I get to spend my birthday with at least some people close to me. Thank you."
Ruby was in tears like she knew she would be. But every last one of them was filled with happiness that she never thought she would feel today.
Oscar cupped her face, wiped away a few of tears, and kissed her. Ruby kissed back right away and the two lovers got caught up in the moment to the point of where it took them a couple of minutes to remember they weren't the only ones there.
They pulled away and offered quick, awkward apologies to the Beacon teachers with blushes on their faces.
"Oh it's quite alright. Given the circumstances I'm sure even Professor Goodwitch would have been hesitant to break up such a moment."
"Port is quite right." The coffee addicted history teacher followed up with. "As for why we're here, calling in teachers from foreign huntsman academies to help in the missions of other kingdoms has become quite the popular practice. And ever since becoming Beacon's headmaster Professor Goodwitch has been in full support of the idea."
"Barty and I were recently selected for such missions here in Mistral. And in the midst of his impressive feat of setting up this party by himself Oscar here ran into us when looking for some essentials. He explained the situation and asked if we could take the time to be here. So here we are."
"Wow. That's really appreciated. Thank you Professor Port. Thank You Dr. Oobleck."
"Please Ruby, there's no need for teacher/student formalities anymore. You've grown a lot from your days at Beacon and have become one of the world's most renowned huntresses. You can refer to me as Barty, and Peter here as, well, Peter."
"Alright. That would be easier. Wait, you said Oscar set all this up by himself?!"
"He certainly did! Peter and I were a little wrapped up in missions and trying to arrange time off to come here. Fortunately Oscar insisted that he could set this up on his own. And you can certainly see the results of that."
Oscar rubbed the back of his head. "I mean, it wasn't all me. Zwei provided more help than you'd think a dog would be able to."
"Is that right? Well where is the little ball of fluff then? He deserves a thank you too!"
Ruby turned towards Zwei and started giving him a tummy rub. And she was just now noticing that he had take the Halloween theme to heart. In place of his usual collar was a superhero cape wrapped around his neck by a replica of Ruby's emblem.
Ruby figured she was just so overwhelmed with joy that he hadn't noticed it yet. She was also beginning to see that Barty had a wig on his head. Was wig even the right term for it? Either way it had made his cranium look like that of the Frankenstein monster.
Peter and Oscar had opted for a more birthday themed attire by wearing party hats. Peter's was vibrant with the variety of colors you'd expect from such an accessory, but Oscar's had so much Red and Green on it that you could mistake it for a Christmas hat! But Ruby knew the exact reason why Oscar went with those colors. And found it just too cute that her boyfriend themed a party hat after the colors of both of their aura's.
"I just noticed the bits of dress up you all dawned. Sorry about that I guess I was a little slow."
"It's fine Ruby. But did you see what it says on the emblem that Zwei is wearing."
"No, not yet. Let's see here. "A Huntresses trusty sidekick". OH THAT IS TOO CUTE!
Seeing his girlfriend happy enough to squee like a little girl caused a lot of relief to course through Oscar. He knew this surprise party was vital to brightening Ruby's mood today. And was a nervous wreck in the nearly 3 weeks he had been planning it that he might have screwed something up.
"So then. Shall we let the festivities begin?" Asked the burly bombastic storyteller.
"Yes! We should! As the birthday girl I command it!"
Ruby's little joke got a small chuckle out of everyone. "I should let you know Ruby that I wouldn't be surprised if all the others will figure out what Whitley did while down there and leave the party early to come back here as a result. So I was thinking we should wait until then for the cake. Or until a certain point later if they take a while to return. Does that sound good to you?"
"Yeah. That sounds like a good plan Oscar."
"Alright sweetie. Then that's what we'll do. Oh and by the way, it's not actually a cake. It's a different kind of treat that I think will pleasantly surprise you."
"Don't tease me like that! Now I want to know what it is!"
"Now if I told you it wouldn't be a surprise anymore would it?"
Ruby just responded with an adorable fake pout.
"But I'll tell you one thing you can do right now. Couldn't let you go through your own birthday without some party gear of your own."
Oscar revealed a headdress that had bats flying around in fireworks and little pieces of fake candy decorated into it. And it said Birthday Girl at the top.
Ruby got sparkles in her eyes seeing this. Oscar slipped it on her head and Ruby cried out "Let's Party!"
Night had fallen on yet another Halloween in the world of remnant. While it was still early enough for kids to get giddy going trick or treating, the large group headed home couldn't be filled with more regret.
That group consisted of the friends and family of Ruby Rose, a girl they were sure would have a tear strained face upon their return to their current abode.
They had all been at that fancy party for a couple of hours. The party technically lasted a lot longer but by the time they had found out what had happened with the Birthday Girl's invitation, they all stormed out feeling furious.
Weiss and Winter had wondered why that little grease stain known as Whitley was in attendance, but decided it was best to just keep their distance given the long strained relationship they had with their brother.
Overall the group was enjoying the evening, but eventually Weiss was approached by one of the butlers who was very insistent on offering here something from his tray. Weiss was a bit taken aback at first but noticed the gesturing the man was doing to expose what seemed like a note that was hiding beneath the food.
The butler was able to communicate that it was an important notice for Weiss and her group about Ruby's attendance at the party. Weiss happily accepted since by that point she was just as confused as everyone as to why Ruby had yet to show up.
She took the note to the group and explained that the butler had to give it to Weiss in secret as the party's hostess would likely disapprove of this information being revealed just about as much as this particular butler disapproved of his employers decision.
The group had examined the contents of the note and were in a mixed state of being both shocked and angry. Even Tai was hesitant to agree with himself when he told Yang she shouldn't approach Whitley and cause a scene.
A recommendation the elder sister of Ruby was very fierce about paying no heed. And Raven was quick to side with Yang's temptation.
But in the end it was Weiss who had blown her top first. She screamed at Whitley from across the room and stomped towards him with a force that had caused some of the other attendants to start fearing an earthquake from her steps.
The hostess of the party joined in to attempt to defuse the situation and possibly figure out what caused it in the first place since she wasn't sure what got Weiss so upset. But she froze in place before she could fully join them as Weiss had explained, or rather yelled to her she desperately wished not brother why she was fuming.
"I don't know what upsets me more Whitley! The fact that you would go out of your way to resort to bribery just for the sake of making someone feel bad, or YOU" she said as she pointed to the hostess "for agreeing to such a horrid thing to do! Now Ruby, the hero who dealt the killing blow to the monster that could have killed us all mind you, is stuck in a house probably feeling as terrible as you factually are all because of some stupid bribe to retract her invitation?! YOU SHOULD FEEL ASHAMED! DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY FOR YOURSELF WHITLEY!"
Whitley just stood there, frozen. If he did have something to say it probably would have been a condescending statement that would have earned him a good smack across the face at least. But the rage his sister was displaying was more than he could recall ever seeing from her. And all he could do in response was just stand there silently in fear.
With each passing second of nothing coming out of his mouth, Weiss' anger grew more and more. Eventually she reached her breaking point and summoned a Beringel Grimm she had defeated once right in front of Whitley's face.
This finally got a noise out of him as Whitley screamed in terror and fell to the ground. Weiss had dismissed her summon after that, but made sure to give the little brat one last scowl before turning around to leave the party.
The rest of the group followed suit. Rage building more and more as they found themselves in complete agreement with everything Weiss had said. Tai had even caved and told Yang to go ahead and give Whitley what was coming to him.
"Tempting as that is" the fiery blonde began "I think Weiss has already taken care of that part. Right now we need to get back and make sure Ruby is doing alright."
That was the last of the groups involvement in this party. They grabbed their things and left immediately. Hearing nothing more as they walked about but the attendants up in arms at Whitley and the Hostess for the stunt they had pulled.
As they started their trek back, they were all scrambling their thoughts trying to figure out what they could possibly say to Ruby. Despite the size of of their gathering, they ultimately couldn't figure out how to approach her.
The fact that a team as large as Weiss, Winter, Blake, Sun, Illia, Ghira, Kali, Yang, Tai, Qrow, Raven, Jaune, Ren, and Nora couldn't piece together a solution left them dreading how distraught Ruby would be even more.
They had noticed along the way that Oscar wasn't present among them either. As they walked back to the house in silence, all they could do was hope that Oscar had managed to do something to brighten Ruby's mood today.
Eventually they reached their current abode, and braced for the worse as they opened door. They hadn't even fully stepped in when they began apologizing to Ruby. But their attempts were cut short as they noticed the ridiculously large abundance of decorations and treats scattered all over.
They were all completely clueless, all they could do was observe the room and try to understand what exactly had happened. But every train of thought came to a halt when laughter was heard from another room.
As everyone made their steps towards the laughter, the conversation causing it became more and more audible.
"I seriously don't get it. I know Uncle Qrow didn't exactly grow up in a normal environment, but skirt or kilt, who would attempt THAT kind of landing strategy wearing something like that!" Ruby managed to ask despite her attempts to breath. She was in such a laughing fit she even had to sit down because she couldn't keep herself steady.
"You think that's bad?" Port added in between his own chuckling "You should hear what he did to Raven after he found out she was in on that plan."
"Oh dear, Peter please no." Port's coffee fueled colleague began "Please don't bring that up. Ozpin was so furious when he found out that even Glynda was afraid to approach him."
"Is that true?!" Ruby asked, shocked that something happened that caused Glynda of all people to be afraid to speak at misbehavior.
"It sure is" Oscar chimed in "That's one of the more lighthearted but still scary memories Ozpin had. Even I get chills sometimes when that memory creeps up on me."
"What happened?! I have to know now!"
"Oh my where do I begin?" Port questioned "Well, with the help of Summer, Qrow eventually ended up purchasing what he described to Raven as a Vale Tradition. Saying that wearing this outfit was something done only by the strongest, proudest warriors Vale had ever known. Raven bought it completely and paraded around in that frilly, flower adorned sundress the next day with complete confidence. You should have seen the look on Young Tai's face!"
"Ozpin was a man of great patience" Oobleck added "But even he had his limits and Team STRQ's antics with this certainly pushed him past them. They were stuck with cleaning up the school for 3 weeks!"
Everyone had erupted into another fit of laughter. A very loud one. Loud enough to where only Zwei had noticed the giggling coming from the hallway. Once he did, he started barking while dashing over to those who had returned to the household.
This had caught everyone's attention, and now the presence of the rest of the group was known. Leaving those who were originally at the other party fumbling a bit to try and find the right words to say.
Yang was the first to gain a sense of composure "Ruby, I" but she was cut short once she felt her sisters arms around her.
"It's okay you guys. I didn't say anything about my invitation because I knew you were all looking forward to that party. I don't hold it against you." After a brief moment of surprise at Ruby's reasoning, Qrow began to speak up. "That's very considerate of you kiddo. But in the future remember that you're way more important to us then some fancy shindig. We'd never want to have fun at your expense."
Ruby smiled. "Will do Uncle Qrow."
After letting the tenderness of the moment sink in, Blake decided to voice her curiosity. "So, to address the very decorative, candy coated Elephant in the room. Where did all of this come from anyway?"
"Isn't it awesome?!" the birthday girl began. "Oscar spent almost 3 weeks setting up this whole thing without help from anyone but Zwei!"
"He did did he?" Tai began. "Well good on you kid. We were all hoping that you had done something to salvage Ruby's birthday today. Looks like you pulled through pretty well."
"Thank you sir." Oscar said rubbing the back of his head. He felt a little flustered he had to admit. But then he felt Tai's hand on his shoulder. "No. Thank You for doing this." Tai said with a genuine smile on his face. A smile which Oscar returned.
"By the way mom" Yang began in a teasing tone. "Did you really get tricked into wearing a dress like that so easily?"
Raven sighed "Yes. Though I've been dedicating the rest of the my life to forgetting it ever since."
More laughs were had at Raven's statement.
"So the kitchen here is a little small to be holding all of us." Jaune began to speak. "Should we head back into the living room?"
"Probably" Oscar began "But there's one last surprise to reveal first." Ruby started beaming. "Oh right! That mystery treat you got in place of a cake! What is it?! What is it?! WHAT IS IT?!" Ruby asked in complete excitement.
"Well everyone is here now." Oscar responded with "So I think it's about time to take it out of hiding. Wait right here."
Oscar left the room to retrieve the special cake replacement treat and returned with a stack of what looked like a bunch of pizza boxes.
Upon setting them down and handing one to Ruby he said "Baked them myself. Hope I didn't mess up. It's a rather unconventional recipe. Took me a few tries to get them all right. Or at least, what I hope is right."
More curious than ever Ruby had opened the box that was handed to her to see what this special treat was. Upon receiving her answer she was in complete awe.
The pizza boxes were certainly a fitting container to keep them in given how they were in the same shape as a pizza and cut into a total of 12 slices. But instead of actually being pizza each slice was of a different flavor of cookies.
Being the cookie fan she was, Ruby was almost instantly able to recognize each flavor.
And Butter Cookies dipped in sugar and chocolate.
These cookie pizza's even had their own toppings in the form of Strawberry slices that were sprinkled with sugar.
Ruby was practically drooling at the sight of her treat as she reached for a slice. She took a bite as Oscar waited in anticipation hoping it turned out okay. Ruby's eyes began to sparkle as she gorged down the slice she had picked out.
"It tastes awesome!" Ruby exclaimed. Oscar breathed a sigh of relief before being caught completely off guard at what Ruby did next. Tasty as she found her special birthday treat. She decided to eat Oscar's face next. Dropping excited thank you's in between kisses.
Tai, despite having a level of protectiveness to him like most fathers would, simply stayed silent and allowed the public display of affection to occur. The Branwen twins were pleased that they didn't have to convince Tai to take this course of action.
Yang couldn't help but crack a smile at how sweet this moment was herself. That and the fact that Ghira was trying to follow suit with Tai's choice in how to handle this.
The tenderness of the moment had caused Sun to wrap his arm around Blake's shoulder and his tail around her waist. Ghira was still getting used to the fact that the Monkey Faunus he typically greeted with a glare had been dating his daughter for a good amount of time now.
But in the interest of not causing a scene, he kept his mouth shut. Though unlike Tai, he did need some soothing from his wife to keep his composure.
Illia rolled her eyes with a smile at this typical action of Papa Belladonna, and through that noticed that Weiss had begun forming some tears at the tenderness of the moment. Illia offered her a handkerchief, which Weiss gladly accepted. Winter was trying to keep her tough girl persona in check. But eventually she had to accept Illia's offer as well.
Jaune of course also had a smile on his face. Especially when he saw Ren & Nora embrace each other.
Once Ruby and Oscar succumbed to the need to breath, everyone had moved the rest of the cookie pizza's to the living room as they continued on with Ruby's birthday celebration.
"You did not!" Ruby gasped at Weiss
"She sure did" Illia said in response. "You should have seen the look on Whitley s face after she summoned the Beringel. I could have sworn his soul was going to jump out of his body."
"If he even has a soul" Weiss followed up with "He had it coming."
Winter threw in her own piece "It's about time somebody did it. I'm just sorry it wasn't me.
Qrow was never more willing to blame something on his semblance. As the party went on Ruby had talked him into joining in on a Kung-Fu Ninja Slayer Ultimate Death Battle 3 tournament. But for as often as he kicked his nieces butts at these games, he found himself curb-stomped like a noob once was matched up against Oscar.
"Well well" Yang began "Are we seeing Qrow Branwen, professional huntsman from Team STRQ, throw a tantrum at losing a video game?"
"Who's throwing a tantrum. All I said was it was probably just bad luck, you know how my semblance is."
"I don't know brother. Blaming a factor like luck for your loss at a video game of all things sounds like a tantrum to me." Raven added as her husband started to chuckle.
"Grr. Best two out of three farm boy." Qrow had challenged. He had a title to defend after all.
"You're on old man" Oscar replied. Causing a burst of giggles out of his girlfriend.
"You know you were right Ruby. This is delicious." Nora stated over a slice of the special birthday treat. "It is quite tasty." Ren agreed "How did you manage to bake enough of these for everyone Oscar?"
"And how were you able to keep all of these decorations and treats hidden for 3 weeks?" Jaune followed up with.
"It took a lot of planning, and a lot of time. I come from a farm and even my multitasking was put too it's limit here."
"Well I think it all payed off in the end" Ruby stated with a kiss to Oscar s cheek. Zwei barked in agreement as Ruby gave him a tummy rub.
"Glad to hear it." Oscar replied with a smile. And then a stomp was heard on the floor.
"Ren! You have to get the recipe for this from Oscar! The Queen of the Castle commands it!"
Ren sighed "Yes your highness. You don't mind do you Oscar?"
"Not at all. I do have more notes on how I made this then I think I really needed after all." Oscar's reply got even more giggles out of everyone.
"Thank You!" the group of kids that had approached the house said as they left. It was still Halloween after all. They had gotten a handful of trick or treaters over the course of of celebrating Ruby's birthday.
"You're welcome." The birthday girl replied. "Stay safe out there."
"Well that should be the last of the kids for tonight." Oscar stated. "It is getting pretty late. Good thing too because we're nearly out of candy."
And nearly out of Candy they indeed were. Kali had offered for her and Ghira to help with the clean up once the celebration had concluded. Though Ghira had only agreed in response to the infamous wife glare . He was more interested in keeping an eye on Sun and Blake, as the former was resting his head in his girlfriends lap with a stomach ache.
"Ugh. I ate too many Banana Laffy Taffy's" Sun groaned "Yeah, you definitely did." Blake replied with. "But at least you don t seem to be doing as bad as Ilia." Blake looked over to her friend with a smirk.
"Hey." Illia tried to yell but couldn't "You know chocolate's my weakness. Besides, at least I'm still conscious." The Faunus Trio had looked over to see Ren needing Jaune's help to keep track of his own girlfriend. Technically speaking Nora was still awake, but she had eaten so much candy that Illia's statement was still accurate.
"Touche" Blake replied.
"Well this has been fun. But we really must be going." Port announced. "Thank you for inviting us Oscar."
"You're welcome. And thank you for being here." Oscar replied with.
"Yes, thank you. I really appreciate you two being here for Ruby." Tai followed suit with.
"No problem at all." Oobleck replied with. "Well, we will see you all later."
"Bye! Thanks again for coming!" Ruby replied.
After Port and Oobleck were out the door it didn't take long for everyone to decided to call it a night and head to bed. Oscar was about to do so himself when he felt a familiar hug wrap around him.
"This could have been one of my worst birthdays, but thanks to your efforts it was my best one yet. Thank you so much Oscar."
Oscar returned her hug. "You're welcome Ruby. I'm just glad I was able to get this to work and make you happy. I was so worried that I might have screwed something up. But it looks like everything worked out."
"It sure did" Ruby responded with. Then she looked up as her and Oscar stared into each others eyes.
"I love you." Oscar was the first to say.
"I love you too."
They shared one last kiss for the night before heading off to their rooms to get some sleep. Ruby was tired from a long day. But she was happier than she could have ever dreamed she would be today.
She fell into a blissful sleep soon after. Dreaming of the boy who lights up her life like no one else.
Huge special thanks goes to teh-J0ey from deviantart, Adma24 from discord, and Mister100Percent from, well he has multiple accounts with the same name really.
I was admittedly having some trouble bringing the total amount of cookie flavors up to 12 for that special (and totally unrealistic =P) birthday treat. I got up to 9 on my own before resorting to some help from these 3 in Miraculous Cora Zone's Rosegarden server on Discord.
teh-j0ey gave me the idea for the Pistachio cookies Adma24 left the white chocolate idea And Mister100Percent suggested the butter cookies.
Thanks again to those 3 and to you for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.
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On October, 17, 2018, Leone Frollo died at the age of 87. He was an Italian comic writer.
Frollo was born in Venice. He debuted in 1948 with a western called Sui Grandi Laghi (“On Great Lakes”). From 1958 to 1968, he worked on war stories. After that, until the mid-1980s he did works in several genres, including fantasy and horror, but specially erotic comics. His main work in the erotic genre in this period is Biancaneve, based on Snow White.
After 1987, he changed his style that is defined by the time period. These comics take place in the early 20th centyry. After abandoning comics, Frollo dedicated himself to erotic work, doing illustrations on paper with watercolour, pencil, and pastels.
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He Got Lost in the Dense Fog
Haoqi had many rich friends. For example, Mr. Zhao was a private company boss and Mr. Li was a bank leader. They both had superior material life and exalted social positions, which were the envy of Haoqi. In order to catch up with their high living standards, he rushed and busied about like hell.
Haoqi’s wife is a Christian. She had preached theto him many times, hoping that he could , learn to obey God’s sovereignty and arrangements, and know that whether one was poor or rich in his whole life, it was not controlled by oneself, but depended on God’s sovereignty and predestination. But Haoqi did not agree with her. He always said: “One’s fate is in one’s own hands. Money can buy everything.” So he put his whole heart into raising fortunes, falling into the whirlpool of money. His wife saw it with eyes and felt anxious in her heart. She thought: The man with a cast-iron constitution can even hardly endure laboring in mind and body like this, let alone my husband. Thus she always prayed for him and read God’s words to him, hoping that he could come before God as soon as possible. But Haoqi was hard-hearted. Especially when he saw that his friends enjoyed the luxury of owing mansions and limousines, and wearing watches worth over one or several hundred thousand yuan, he was more eager to own money and fame. So he made a commitment to himself to become an outstanding person in high society like them.
Storms Gather Without Warning and Misfortune Befalls Men Overnight
In the late fall of 2008, a friend of Haoqi, Mr. Zhao, fell on the ground in a dead faint at a dinner party. Some insider present said that Mr. Zhao had long since been seriously ill. But to maintain his business, he kept on working and attending all kinds of social engagements. As a result, his illness through overwork made him fall at table. During his illness, his families rushed around taking him to big hospitals. His brother who was also rich and powerful, said that as long as Mr. Zhao could be healed, no matter how much it cost, he would not hesitate. He even spent a great deal of money inviting foreign therapists to cure Mr. Zhao. However, no matter how much money they had, it could do nothing to save his life. After four months of treatment, Mr. Zhao departed from this world with regrets.
Mr. Zhao’s sudden death made Haoqi feel very heavy. He told his wife gloomily, “Alas, Old Zhao has died.” Then his wife enlightened him, saying: “Who of us can control our own destiny? Whether being rich or poor, having status or not, no one wants to die early, but no one is capable of controlling it except God, the Creator of the heavens and earth and all things. Both our life and death are in the hands of God; do you still not believe this truth?”
After listening to his wife’s word, Haoqi had a great sigh and did not speak. He leaned against the bedside, as if in thought or in memory …
His Transformation Began in That Twilight
In a serene twilight, Haoqi, still gloomy and depressed about his friend’s death, was sitting at the window and staring blankly. He was in an anxious state of mind. His wife went up to him and sat by his side. Seeing his gloomy expression, she opened up the book of God’s word and read the following passage: “The fate of man is controlled by the hands of God. You are incapable of controlling yourself: Despite always rushing and busying about for himself, man remains incapable of controlling himself. If you could know your own prospects, if you could control your own fate, would you still be a creature? In short, regardless of how God works, all His work is for the sake of man. Take, for example, the heavens and earth and all things that God created to serve man: The moon, the sun, and the stars that He made for man, the animals and plants, spring, summer, autumn and winter, and so on—all are for the sake of man’s existence. … The destination of man is in the hands of the Creator, so how could man control himself?” (“Restoring the Normal Life of Man and Taking Him to a Wonderful Destination”).
After reading God’s word, his wife gently said to him, “From God’s words, we see that the destiny of every one of us is not in our own hands. During our whole life, whether we are rich or poor, what kind of misfortunes we will encounter, and what kind of ending we will have, all these are in God’s hands. None of us can control or rule over them. Take old Zhao for example. Even though he was powerful and rich, yet when he faced disease, what could he do about it? His family spent a big deal of money inviting top foreign therapists to cure him, but what was the result? Do you still believe that as long as one owns money, one will be able to control one’s destiny by oneself?” Instead of being stubborn and haughty as before, Haoqi said reflectively, “Right, if old Zhao could control his own fate, then why was he incapable of saving himself when he was so rich? He was still young. Wealth, status, and glory of the world, he owned them all and had need of nothing. Far be it from him to die!” Listening to his word, his wife nodded her head silently. During the following days, she always read God’s word to him as long as he was free. Haoqi was no longer unconcerned about belief in God, but quieted his heart, listened to God’s word, and prayed to God together with his wife.
Understanding the True Meaning of Life
Not long after that, Haoqi’s another friend, Mr. Li, suddenly died from cerebral hemorrhage. He newly bought a limousine just before his death, which is worth multimillion yuan, but he barely had time to enjoy a ride in it. Haoqi told this news to his wife, and she read some daze and helplessness in his eyes. As if asking his wife, or asking himself, he said: “They were so rich and powerful, but they died so quickly and early. What’s the matter?” His wife said to him: “Our fates are in God’s command. But almost all people, who have been corrupted by Satan, believe that ‘one’s fate is in one’s own hands and money can buy everything.’ So they all fight hand, tooth and nail to make money, frittering away their life for the sake of satisfying their endless desire. Actually, they all have fallen into Satan’s scheme. When they have money, they think they can control their own fate, so that they no longer believe in the existence of God or acknowledge God’s sovereignty for their fates. As a result, they continue their painstaking effort to seek money, fame, and gain, and fall into the vicious circle, ending up utterly under the control of Satan, and losing God’s care and protection. Then, will they have a good fate?” Listening to his wife’s word, Haoqi could not agree more with her.
Haoqi’s wife read him another passage of God’s word: “Many people go their whole lives without having their wishes fulfilled. Is this really because of a fault in their thinking? Many people’s lives are filled with unexpected happiness and satisfaction. Is this really because they expect too little? Who of the whole of mankind is not cared for in the eyes of the Almighty? Who does not live in the midst of the Almighty’s predestination? Whose birth and death come from their own choices? Does man control his own fate? Many people cry out for death, yet it is far away from them; many people want to be those who are strong in life and fear death, yet unbeknownst to them, the day of their demise draws near, plunging them into the abyss of death; many people look to the skies and sigh deeply; many people cry great, wailing sobs” (“The Eleventh Utterance” of God’s Utterances to the Entire Universe).
God’s words have utterly convinced Haoqi. He said to his wife, “From the death of our two friends, I acknowledge that if we human beings can control our own fate, then according to their financial ability, they could have bought life. But in fact, no matter how much money they had, it could not lengthen their life by a single minute, a single second. We really cannot grasp hold of our destiny ourselves.”
Haoqi’s wife continued to read God’s word to him: “How many creatures are there living and reproducing in the vast expanse of the universe, following the law of life over and over, adhering to one constant rule. Those who die take with them the stories of the living, and those who are living repeat the same tragic history of those who have died. And so mankind can’t help but ask itself: Why do we live? And why do we have to die? Who is in command of this world? And who created this mankind? Was mankind really created by Mother Nature? Is mankind really in control of its own fate? … Regardless of whether you are able to recognize the deed of God, and irrespective of whether you believe in the existence of God, there is no doubt that your fate lies within the ordination of God, and there is no doubt that God will always hold sovereignty over all things. His existence and authority are not predicated upon whether or not they can be recognized and comprehended by man. Only He knows man’s past, present and future, and only He can determine the fate of mankind” (“Man Can OnlyAmidst the Management of God” ).
After she finished reading these words, Haoqi said thoughtfully: “God’s word is really good! I understand that in the major aspects, it’s the creation and change of the universe, and in the minor aspects, it’s the birth, death, blessing and disaster of the created beings; all of these are ruled over and arranged by God. From the moment when we were born to the end of our life, God has long since predestined and arranged them. No one can escape from God’s arrangement, no one can escape from His control.” While listening, Haoqi’s wife was offering thanks to God silently.
Changing the Way of His Living, He Saw the Light
Under the guidance and lead of God’s word, Haoqi’s heart was awakened bit by bit. The satanic perspectives that he had clung to before—“One’s fate is in one’s own hands and money can buy everything”—had collapsed and crumbled through and through. Gradually, he came to know the significance of believing in God. So he made a new choice of the direction for his life pursuit: Coming out of fame and gain, doing his best to believe in God, and changing the way of his living. In the summer of 2009, Haoqi had arrived at a major turning point of his life, where he began to see the light. He started to live the church life formally and became a real Christian.
Later, Haoqi read the following passage of God’s word: “If one’s attitude toward God’s sovereignty over human fate is active, then when one looks back upon one’s journey, when one truly comes to grips with God’s sovereignty, one will more earnestly desire to submit to everything that God has arranged, will have more of the determination and confidence to let God orchestrate one’s fate, to stop rebelling against God. For one sees that when one does not comprehend fate, when one does not understand God’s sovereignty, when one gropes forward willfully, staggering and tottering, through the fog, the journey is too difficult, too heartbreaking. So when people recognize God’s sovereignty over human fate, the smart ones choose to know it and accept it, to bid farewell to the painful days when they tried to build a good life with their own two hands, instead of continuing to struggle against fate and pursue their so-called life goals in their own manner. When one has no God, when one cannot see Him, when one cannot clearly recognize God’s sovereignty, every day is meaningless, worthless, miserable. Wherever one is, whatever one’s job is, one’s means of living and the pursuit of one’s goals bring one nothing but endless heartbreak and irrelievable suffering, such that one cannot bear to look back. Only when one accepts the Creator’s sovereignty, submits to His orchestrations and arrangements, and seeks true human life, will one gradually break free from all heartbreak and suffering, shake off all the emptiness of life” (“God Himself, the Unique III”).
When Haoqi was reading God’s words, he repeatedly said: “Amen!” And he thought back to those days that he did not believe in God. In order to compare with his friends, to pursue a luxurious life of materialistic enjoyment and a high status, he really labored in his body and mind and lived in unbearable pain, and still failed in changing his fate through his own efforts. After believing in God, he was completely awakened by God’s word. In the past, he fell into Satan’s scheme, living in the evil whirlpool of seeking fame and gain, and passing too much precious days in emptiness which he could have spent in pursuing the truth. Now by recalling the painful past, he knew that if he continued walking the old way, he would end up just like his two friends who died early. He also understood that living under Satan’s domain could absolutely not make a meaningful life and would lead to his being devoured by Satan; only following God and obeying God’s sovereignty and arrangement is the right path for human beings.
Living Before God, He Feels Safe and Peaceful
Now Haoqi still does not live the life as a successful and rich man. Every day he goes to work as usual, and gets the salary which can feed his family, but he feels unprecedented peace. In the past, he spent all his spare time on stock, lottery ticket, money management, investment, and social engagements in all kinds of places of debauchery … But now all these are replaced by a colorful church life. He always gathers with the brothers and sisters to fellowship about God’s words, and ponders how to have, from God’s word, a knowledge of God’s almightiness, authority, and all His true love and genuine affection in saving mankind. He feels all the more that, only by seeking to know God and living according to God’s words, can one have a meaningful and valuable life. By living before God, he no longer needs to struggle desperately for his endless desire for money, fame, and status; to wear a mask to join in the fun on occasion every day in the hypocritical world; and much less to be confused about the unknown future and destiny. Because he has submitted everything about him to God, and he believes that as long as the people who believe in God with true hearts worship God wholeheartedly and pursues the truth, God will care for and protect them, making them spend each day safely and fully.
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Mr and Mrs(7)By: Alexa Riley
Most of all, I loved how I seemed to be so different to him. To others he was hard, cold, and calculating. Intimidating, I think many would say, but that wasn’t what I’d seen that first day. He was sweet and charming, and I’d sat talking with him in my father’s office for three hours. We didn’t even know the time had passed. My father had come rushing in, apologizing, and asking why we hadn’t responded to his phone calls or texts. It was like we’d gotten lost in our own little world, something I easily do around him. I could even see the shocked look on Phillip’s face when he pulled his phone out of his suit-jacket pocket, surprised that he’d forgotten. My dad even made a joke that it was normally glued to his hand.
Phillip had leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I would have left hours ago and thrown this deal out the window, but now there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for this deal if it means I’ll get to wait in your father’s office for hours just to talk to you.”
Always sweet with me. Telling me about his life, which I knew he didn’t do with others. Even Cindy had said that while they had known each other for years, she didn’t know much about his past. No one seemed to know but me. About the fighting, the foster care, the drive to be the best. The nothingness he’d felt.
It wasn’t until I’d seen him at work or around others did I realize that only I got that. Did he give that to her, too? The thought is like a smack. A reminder of what really happened. What led me to this bench, sitting alone like I do most days.
Those sweet memories are why I believed all those words Cindy had said to me at dinner that night. Phillip would never do something like that. But he did. I’d seen it. Just like I’d seen my father do the same to my mother. It took a while to see it, or maybe my head was in the clouds, but it was there right in front of my face. We like to make ourselves believe things aren’t what they seem. Phillip had told me he had dark parts to him.
How much easier would it have been if I could have acted like my mother? She’d seemed happy until she just wasn’t, but I wonder if she had the ache deep in her, too. Probably. Why else would she just take off and leave? I always wondered if it was because I reminded her of my father. She couldn’t even be bothered to attend any of my graduations or even my wedding. There was always a reason she couldn’t make it.
“Hmm. He your baby’s father?” I look over at Oscar in shock. He turns his big brown warm eyes to me, eyebrows raised with a knowing smirk on his face. He reminds me so much of my grandfather. Maybe that’s why I latched myself to him. He’s only person in this little town in the middle of nowhere I really talk to, but in all fairness, he doesn’t really give me a choice. Just like today, he normally shows up with something to eat and we take it from there.
My hand goes to the little baby bump that I didn’t think was that noticeable.
“I’ve known for a while, but you just don’t seem to be fessing up.”
“I thought I hid it well.”
“You’re a tiny little thing. Trust me, that bump is just going to keep growing. I’d know, my wife had eight.”
I smile at that. It always makes me smile when he talks about his wife. His own smile just takes over his whole face at the mention of her. I love that. I’d wanted what they had. A little life together without the rest of the world pressing in on them, but I knew the responsibilities that sat on Phillip’s shoulders. I knew the reality of the man I’d chosen to marry, even if he had promised me that someday we’d have the life I’d dreamed about.
I know Oscar has a lot of kids, all older than me, and I often get them mixed up when he talks about them. But that’s what happens when you give all your children names that start with the letter S. It’s hard to keep things straight.
I rub my stomach. I want a baby belly. The thought actually makes me excited, maybe because I remember all the times Phillip would talk about wanting to see me round with our baby, but I just don’t want people asking questions. Questions I don’t want to answer or think about. I’d liked this whole avoiding thing. It might not be working out wonderfully, but I’m getting along for the time being and I still have time. Time to pull myself together.
▶ Also By Alexa Riley
- · Taking the Fall: The Complete Series
- · The Final Fall
- · Taking Her Turn
- · Keeping Her Warm
- · The Runaway Mail-Order Bride
- · Double The Ache
- · The Lost Slipper (Fairytale Shifter Book 3)
- · Growling for Mine
- · Taking What's His (Forced Submission Book 4)
- · Blackmailing the Virgin (An Alexa Riley Promis...
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I am seeing a couple of small children just now for therapy – both are lovely children and both have had traumas. One was bitten by a dog, the other was not hurt when a tree bough fell around him. In the aftermath, both have developed symptoms that make their lives harder. The first – not unreasonably – was terrified of dogs, hiding when one came near, breathing heavily and supremely vigilant so that she could see a dog almost when it was leaving the next town. The boy was playing with his brother in the park when the branch creaked and cracked and fell down. They needed a crane to lift it, and although he was not hurt, his parents came rushing over screaming and expecting to find his body among the leaves. He now worries about leaving his parents and being apart from them – and worries when he sees huge trees.
There are a number of approaches to this sort of problem and I usually describe what I do as ‘eclectic’, meaning I use lots of different approaches, whatever might work. So we have done a lot of memory stuff, using Eye Movement Desensitisation Reprocessing, some drawing, I’ve used Emotional Freeing Techniques and might even use some hypnosis. We start with two particular things, trying to reduce the fearful memory and trying to build up confidence.
Confidence is initially built up as a theory and then we practise close and closer to real situations. This is harder when we are talking about trees falling over, but with regard to the dog, it was easy to find a dog and spend some time first getting physically closer and then encouraging her to stroke and play with the dog [obviously, I looked for a well-trained and pleasant animal.] My intention is to enable her to treat dogs with respect, and this is a difficult line to tread – friendly But careful. Not Anxious but Aware. And this has been going well, so that we now can go to the animal sanctuary and she is positive about the experience.
The boy has been rehearsing his experience in his head, going over what happened and what might have happened. I am trying to encourage him to realise that this was a once in a lifetime experience, beyond his control, and that playing in parks is alright.
What has become very clear to me is how important is the support of parents. The parents of the girl who was bitten are, themselves, frightened of dogs. [again, this seems reasonable]. They are anxious when she goes near a dog, worry that any dog might hurt her, be dirty, might snap…and they have not done any back-up work like taking her to the park or to meet dogs in a casual way. The only work has been with me, and it is not really satisfactory. Like any exercise, daily is so much better than occasionally, and her progress is less than I would have hoped. By contrast, the boy’s parents have done lots of exercises with him at home, so that he has gone through what happened again and again with the reassurance of his parents’ arms around him, and their promise that it is not likely to recur.
[Note:’ not likely’. It is not possible to promise something that is so far beyond our control. It is like promising your children that you will live for ever. You can only promise to try.]
Both children are coming on; they are delightful and I look forward to their increasing independence. But I could wish that her parents were better able to support what I am trying to do. I work with parents as a partnership. Together we are so very much stronger.
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The Twin grew ever larger in the sky, from a distant speck of light to a full moon to taking up half the sky. It pulled our waters up, tides not seen in four generations. Even the ground seemed to yearn toward that other planet. Rocks, though, can’t jump. My people can.
Four generations of ruthless breeding programs. Three decades, speaking for myself, of training — my legs, my lungs. At last we would escape this home to settle on our twin. Of course we would have to leave our elderly behind. The children, too. They would be the seeds of the next generations, jumping to rejoin our new descendants on the Twin. But our strongest and most able were surely the ones to create a new society, anyway.
The Twin. We spoke of it in our twilight tales, the thick air that would slow our descent, the wide lakes and fertile ground. Too wild, perhaps. It needed us, just as we needed it, needed our hands to care for it, needed our strong legs to explore its heights and valleys. And we needed the space to be sure our people survived. We studied its atmosphere as it merged with our own, a cascade of richer air pouring down onto us. Had our home once had air so pure? So close, we reached our hands up as if to touch it. Only the gods of the stars kept it from crashing into our windswept rock of straggly plants and thin ponds.
Everyone wanted to be first to reach it. I watched my fellow jumpers popping off the ground only to come crashing back to the familiar earth. If they survived, they certainly wouldn’t be ready to jump again until too late. I waited.
Across the valley were our cousin species, perhaps driven into separation in a much earlier attempt at breeding. They were not jumpers, would never reach the Twin on their own. They called and sang their disjointed language. I sneered at them, at the fear I heard in the way they spoke. Let them fear the Twin. We would conquer it.
The Twin loomed ever larger. I saw forests and picked out the edge of the glacial defile, the twists of rivers. So much like our own planet — its name was no mere romance — and yet so much richer. I licked the air and imagined that I could already taste its insects and smell its harsh pollens. I crouched low to stretch my muscles.
The earth shifted. Just as I was about to kick off, it shook beneath me, throwing off my balance. The Twin was directly above, as close as it would be for another two centuries, but I couldn’t find the purchase to jump. A building crumbled, and only most of its rock fell down: some debris fell upward.
Across the valley, our cousins threw their young into the air. So strong. How had our cousins become so strong? Unless they too had been breeding for this very moment… From where I sprawled, I watched their children cross that space between planets, watched them spread their arms and skin flaps wide to slow their descent to their new home. I could hear their songs, which no longer sounded fearful. Triumphant as they passed from one atmosphere to the other. Mournful yet proud, those left behind.
For a moment I let myself mourn too. Already it was too late for me to reach the Twin. I could never get myself into position to jump high enough. But maybe not too late for us, for my people.
I ran across the uncertain ground and found one of our own children. Scared and young, but her legs already looked strong with the springy muscles of our people. They would need jumpers over there on the Twin. Not just strong throwers. Let her become a part of their people and make it stronger.
I scooped her up and jumped before she had a chance to know what was happening. It was my highest jump ever, even with the child’s weight in my arms. Perhaps the Twin’s gravity aided me. For an instant I let myself believe we would both make it, but even as I thought it, I could feel myself slowing down. No, no Twin for me. When I reached the apex of my jump, I threw the girl. The Twin’s gravity caught her. She’d seen the thrower children, I was pleased to see as I fell back toward our village. She stretched out her arms and let herself fall. I tried to slow my own descent, spreading limbs wide as the familiar ground rushed to meet me.
The thinner air slowed me, but not enough. Landing, I felt my legs crumple. Shattered or just in pain from the shock? I couldn’t tell, but even if my legs still worked, I was certainly too weak and in too much pain to jump again. From the ground I watched my fellow jumpers leap and cast the other children, crying their blessings and farewells as they fell back here, and the children fell away to make their own new, shared home.
Daniel Ausema has a background in experiential education and journalism and is now a stay-at-home dad. His fiction and poetry have appeared in numerous places, including Daily Science Fiction, Electric Velocipede, and Penumbra, and he is the creator of the steampunk-fantasy serial fiction project, Spire City, published by Musa Publishing. He lives in Colorado, a land of mountain views, micro-brews, and the scent of wildfires.
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Thuridarbud is a replica of the former fishermen’s accommodations and storage space, which depicts a part of the work conditions of the fishermen and named after the only female foreman in Iceland. The original hut stood near the replica. Thuridur (1777-1863) started her courier as an apprentice on her father’s boat when she was eleven. At seventeen, she was a fully paid seaman on her brother’s boat.
She continued her courier, mostly as a foreman on the boats until 1843 and was well appreciated and popular among the seamen. She usually wore men’s clothing with the official permission of the county sheriff. There were dozens of such abodes as Thuridarbud scattered along the coastline in the area like in so many other parts of the country at the times. They were made of turf and stone. The beds were situated along the walls and accommodated two persons each. Thuridarbud is open for the public all year around.
Thuridarbud is on the Saga trail for South Iceland.
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4c6d6c83e0adc10ffb5c1c4cacf3ab14080ee4c42df039d2f3e320347e6e9cbf
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Summary: A successful executive wonders why "Ol' Dad" never gets the recognition he deserves, then ends by remembering some of the lessons taught by his dad. (This was written to be followed by an appropriate Father/Son type of song. If there is no song, it should be used as a set-up for a sermon which will deal further with the Father/Son relationships.) Purpose: To make the audience -- especially the men -- reconsider their priorities and their relationship with their "Father". Key words: Father's Day • Dad • Memories • Parents • Success • Couples
Style: Dramatic. Duration: 10min
The Son - Nice suit, professional looking. Thirty or Forty something.
The Dad - Fishing clothes and hat. Sixtyish.
Props: Cordless phone, laptop, books, a desk, a family picture, a Bible, fishing pole, tackle box.
Notes: This sketch is particularly effective when performed by an actual father-son team.
(Son on the phone sitting at his computer.)
Hey, that's great, Mr. Baker-- I mean Bill! You won't regret this. Friday night? 7 o'clock? No, problem. I'll be there... Absolutely. I'm sure Kathy will be able to make it... And I'm looking forward to meeting your wife, too... Thank you again, sir for the opportunity. Good-bye.
(To the audience.)
Wow! The struggle pays off! Look at me. I finally made it. I mean, I can hardly believe it. Me -- the Executive Vice President! Corner office. Luxury company car. Health club. Great retirement. Six weeks vacation. Great retirement.
(Brief flash of chest pain.)
Oooo! I might need that early retirement clause. I went to the doctor last week and he gave me one of those good-news-bad-news routines. The good news is I'm in great shape for a man of 52. The bad news is I'm only 39.
Well, everything has its downside, right? This trip has had a few for sure... The hours, the weekends, the years. The missed ball games and recitals. It's a pretty big price to pay, but, hey, look around, it was worth it, right?
It would be better if there were just someone with whom I could really share my success. Someone who could appreciate how far I've come.
Oh, sure, there's Kathy…
(Picks-up family picture.)
...but she'll just remind me how we can, at long last, move out of our four bedroom shack in suburbia and into a real house.
And of course there's Scott. Just graduated from high school and looking forward to attending the most expensive private college he could find. I think he's enjoying that new car, too. I envy him. Sort of. All his life ahead of him... Who was it that said it was too bad that youth has to be wasted on the young?
(Suddenly almost angry.)
And would it be asking too much for a little recognition for ol' Dad? A little pat on the back for my accomplishments, for what I've done. A little acknowledgment of what I've given-up to provide for them.
You know, I think I've heard this tune before.
My Dad warned me that the business world could exact a heavy toll... "A heavy toll physically, emotionally and spiritually," he used to say. "A young man must be on the alert!" But, a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do, right?
Dad was always a pretty good guy, considering. I mean, he always seemed pretty content for someone who didn't have very much. There was just something about him.
(Sits back at the computer as "Dad" enters opposite stage whistling a familiar tune and carrying a tackle box and fishing pole. Son notices Bible, takes it and dusts it off as dad messes with his gear, still whistling quietly.)
Oh, he tried to tell me his secrets, to teach me his song. And for a while, I knew it pretty well. But there were other secrets that I wanted learn, and did.
(Dad notices his son, keeps whistling, but at a different, slower pace.)
And gradually over time, his song just faded into the distance.
(Dad stops whistling.)
I wish I could know a little of his peace right now, and hear his song again.
You can, son. All you need to do is listen, but, that's not something you were always real good at, is it?
It's been so long since we even talked. I bet it's been a year since I even called him.
(To the audience.)
My son the hot-shot executive!
(Back to son.)
It's been 2 years, 3 months and 4 days. And I'm still here. Come on home. My arms are still wide open.
I doubt if he would be too impressed with my success. It never seemed to matter much to him. Other things were always more important, like God.
Now there's a guy I haven't talked to in a real long time. No, I suspect he would not approve of the price I've paid.
Why am I feeling so old! It's like I've exchanged my youth for a bunch of things! Like I've exchanged all my beliefs for all my belongings. Sometimes it seems right, but other times, I wish I could be young again. To just start over.
You can, son. Just come home. Come back and accept Him as a little child, just like you did when you were young.
I wonder if he'd forgive me. I know I've hurt him terribly. Not writing, not calling, not going to see him. But most of all...
But he just never understood!!! Do you suppose he'd forgive me? Let me come home?
It must have been hard for you. It must be hard right now. Will I forgive you? Let you come home? Of course I will! All you have to do is ask. I'm your father. Always have been, always will be.
(As Fathers' Day song is sung, Dad settles down to his fishing. Son gets back to work on his computer with frequent pauses and reflections. During last chorus, Son closes computer and makes his way to his father. They embrace as song ends.)
(If no song, take lights to black as Dad returns to his tackle box and the son begins typing on his computer.)
©1987-2008 JSamPlays and JSam Communications, all rights reserved.
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0817b819d442c5d00bc5a412aca147c2f3dca703a35cb247f03807574951d557
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Classic from the year 2009 in the subject English - Literature, Works, language: English, abstract: Chap. I: Of Sympathy How selfish soever man may be supposed, there are evidently some principles in his nature, which interest him in the fortune of others, and render their happiness necessary to him, though he derives nothing from it except the pleasure of seeing it. Of this kind is pity or compassion, the emotion which we feel for the misery of others, when we either see it, or are made to conceive it in a very lively manner. That we often derive sorrow from the sorrow of others, is a matter of fact too obvious to require any instances to prove it; for this sentiment, like all the other original passions of human nature, is by no means confined to the virtuous and humane, though they perhaps may feel it with the most exquisite sensibility. The greatest ruffian, the most hardened violator of the laws of society, is not altogether without it. As we have no immediate experience of what other men feel, we can form no idea of the manner in which they are affected, but by conceiving what we ourselves should feel in the like situation. Though our brother is upon the rack, as long as we ourselves are at our ease, our senses will never inform us of what he suffers. They never did, and never can, carry us beyond our own person, and it is by the imagination only that we can form any conception of what are his sensations. Neither can that faculty help us to this any other way, than by representing to us what would be our own, if we were in his case. It is the impressions of our own senses only, not those of his, which our imaginations copy. By the imagination we place ourselves in his situation, we conceive ourselves enduring all the same torments, we enter as it were into his body, and become in some measure the same person with him, and thence form some idea of his sensations, and even feel something which, though weaker in degree, is not altogether unlike them. His agonie.
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23a66b3a52e2cf30bcf60e7953fd2e2bfb8bfa62a61c3916f0e0670799280c75
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As you read my story, there is something I want you to understand. That in spite of all the pain—past, present and that still to come—I wouldn’t have done anything differently. Nor would I trade the time I had with him for anything—except for what, in the end, I traded it for.
Beth Cardall has a secret. For eighteen years, she has had no choice but to keep it to herself, but on Christmas Eve 2008, all that is about to change.
For Beth, 1989 was a year marked by tragedy. Her life was falling apart: her six-year-old daughter, Charlotte, was suffering from an unidentifiable illness; her marriage transformed from a seemingly happy and loving relationship to one full of betrayal and pain; her job at the dry cleaners was increasingly at risk; and she had lost any ability to trust, to hope, or to believe in herself. Then, on Christmas Day, as she rushed through a blizzard to the nearest 7-Eleven, Beth encountered Matthew, a strikingly handsome, mysterious stranger, who would single-handedly change the course of her life.
Who is this man, and how does he seem to know so much about her? He pursues her relentlessly, and only after she’s fallen deeply in love with him does she learn his incredible secret, changing the world as she knows it, as well as her own destiny.
Published October 2010
Simon & Schuster
“Popular Evans offers up another magical novel . . .The unexpected twist propels the novel forward, making the book impossible to put down. . . Evans’ many fans will enjoy this inventive, heartwarming tale.” – BookList
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4ee2f06f3368f35e99a8e65f446fa382ea7e5f86544fa3215655d295e790a719
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Luke 8:22-25-Jesus crosses the lake in a boat and encounters a storm. He was asleep in the boat so the disciples woke Him and He calmed the storm. They were fearful and amazed. He asked, “Where is your faith?” What is interesting is that Jesus had told them, “Let us go over to the other side of the lake.” If Jesus says He is going to the other side…no storm on earth can stop Him. Since they were in the boat with Him…they should have known that they were safe.
Luke 8:26-39-Jesus encounters a man possessed by demons (a Legion of them) in Gerasene. The man is so controlled by the demons that when Jesus asks him his name, he responds by saying that his name is “Legion”, signifying the number of demons that are in him. The demons knew that Jesus had control over them and requested that they be allowed to enter a herd of pigs that were nearby. He allowed them to do so. They then charged the entire herd over a cliff and they died. The people who saw it happened reported it to the local inhabitants (who owned the pigs). Instead of recognizing Who Jesus was (even the demons had done this), they were upset over the death of their pigs and told Him to leave. The man who had formerly been possessed by the demons asked if He could follow along with Jesus. Jesus told him to go home and tell them “what great things God has done for you.”…and he did so.
Luke 8:40-56-A man named Jairus (a synagogue official) comes to Jesus and requests that He come to his home. His only daughter, was dying (12-years-old). As Jesus is going to his home, a woman who had been sick with a hemorrhage for 12 years sneaks up behind him and touches His coat…she is healed. Jesus knew that healing power had gone through Him and asked who it was. The woman admitted it was her and Jesus told her that her “faith has made you well; go in peace”. While He is speaking with the woman, people arrive from Jairus’ home and tell them that his daughter has died. Jesus says, “Do not be afraid any longer; only believe, and she will be made well.” He arrived and told the people to stop crying because the little girl was not dead, only asleep. The people laughed at Him. He took Peter, John and the parents with Him and went to the girl. He brought her back to life…and told her parents to tell no one what had happened.
Prayer: Lord, Your power is so evident here. Please allow me to experience Your power in my life…and please let Your power move through me in the ministry that You have called me to. I don’t want to operate in my own strength, or ability, or knowledge. God…I would rather have Your power move through one word from me, than no power and 10,000 words from me. I must have Your power, or else all is in vain. It is so senseless to try to do Your work…on my own. Please, Lord, help me to have complete faith in You, but still, help me to always marvel at You as the disciples did…”Who then is this, that He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey Him?”
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4b2d56cea8f223bffcfbd0ddc5c9131171ff967acaf802876f32e0a60e6b7bac
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Barbara Strozzi (also called Barbara Valle; baptised 6 August 1619 – 11 November 1677) was an Italian Baroque singer and composer.
Born in Venice, Barbara was adopted and baptized into the Strozzi family. She was most likely illegitimate, daughter of Giulio Strozzi and Isabella Garzon, his long-time servant and heir. Giulio encouraged his daughter's talent, even creating an academy in which Barbara's performances could be validated and displayed publicly. He seemed to be interested in exhibiting her considerable vocal talents to a wider audience.However, her singing was not her only talent. She was also compositionally gifted, and her father arranged for her to study with composer Francesco Cavalli.
It is conceivable that Strozzi may have been a courtesan, however, she also may have merely been the target of jealous slander by her male contemporaries. She appears to have led a quiet, if not slightly unusual life; there is evidence that at least three of her four children were fathered by the same man, Giovanni Paolo Vidman. He may have been her husband or a paramour. After Vidman's death it is likely that Strozzi supported herself by means of her savvy investments and by her compositions. He did not, apparently, leave anything to her or her children in his will.
Strozzi died in Padua in 1677 aged 58. Strozzi is believed to have been buried at Eremitani. When she died without leaving a will, her son Giulio Pietro claimed her inheritance.
Strozzi is unique among both male and female composers for publishing her works in single-composer volumes, rather than in collections. She was said to be "the most prolific composer-man or woman- of printed secular vocal music in Venice in the Middle of the century." Her output is also unique in that it only contains secular vocal music, with the exception of one volume of sacred songs. She was renowned for her poetic ability as well as her compositional talent. Her lyrics were often poetic and well-articulated.
Nearly three-quarters of her printed works were written for soprano, but she also published works for other voices. Her compositions are firmly rooted in the seconda pratica tradition. Strozzi's music evokes the spirit of Cavalli, heir of Monteverdi. However, her style is more lyrical, and more dependent on sheer vocal sound. Many of the texts for her early pieces were written by her father Giulio. Later texts were written by her father's friends, and many compositions she wrote her own texts for.
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0d95b5182541dbc000295b217c95670af1a37296b448e27fc10455f645cbe505
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William Gladden shares his personal story of the search for his birth mother complete with the revelations and frustrations he experienced along the way. He shares how similar his story is to so many others who face steep obstacles in trying to find their own biological families.
William Gladden’s passion for lifelong learning began when he was adopted and raised by two educators. He has been a Peace Corps volunteer in Nepal, a lawyer, and a certified financial planner to more than 1,000 Savannah clients. Now retired, he is busier than ever as a mediator of legal conflicts and discussion leader on TED talks and international affairs. He is the married father of three who lives in Ardsley Park.
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9b8205d3640659a74ba5764facfe8f83203cccecae1e996557c3b6d915fbd26e
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What cruelties George perpetrated at Alexandria at the same time may be learned from the narration of Athanasius, who both suffered in and witnessed the occurrences. In his Apology for his flight,' speaking of these transactions, he thus expresses himself:
Moreover, they came to Alexandria, again seeking to destroy me: and on this occasion their proceedings were worse than before; for the soldiery having suddenly surrounded the church, there arose the din of war, instead of the voice of prayer. Afterwards, on his arrival during Lent, George, sent from Cappadocia, added to the evil which he was instructed to work. When Easter-week was passed, the virgins were cast into prison, the bishops were led in chains by the military, and the dwellings even of orphans and widows were forcibly entered and their provisions pillaged. Christians were assassinated by night; houses were sealed; and the relatives of the clergy were endangered on their account. Even these outrages were dreadful; but those that followed were still more so. For in the week after the holy Pentecost, the people, having fasted, went forth to the cemetery to pray, because all were averse to communion with George: that wickedest of men being informed of this, instigated against them Sebastian, an officer who was a Manichæan. He, accordingly, at the head of a body of troops armed with drawn swords, bows, and darts, marched out to attack the people, although it was the Lord's day: finding but few at prayers, -- as the most part had retired because of the lateness of the hour, -- he performed such exploits as might be expected from them. Having kindled a fire, he set the virgins near it, in order to compel them to say that they were of the Arian faith: but seeing they stood their ground and despised the fire, he then stripped them, and so beat them on the face, that for a long time afterwards they could scarcely be recognized. Seizing also about forty men, he flogged them in an extraordinary manner: for he so lacerated their backs with rods fresh cut from the palm-tree, which still had their thorns on, that some were obliged to resort repeatedly to surgical aid in order to have the thorns extracted from their flesh, and others, unable to bear the agony, died under its infliction. All the survivors with one virgin they banished to the Great Oasis. The bodies of the dead they did not so much as give up to their relatives, but denying them the rites of sepulture they concealed them as they thought fit, that the evidences of their cruelty might not appear. They did this acting as madmen. For while the friends of the deceased rejoiced on account of their confession, but mourned because their bodies were uninterred, the impious inhumanity of these acts was sounded abroad the more conspicuously. For soon after this they sent into exile out of Egypt and the two Libyas the following bishops: Ammonius, Thmuïs, Caïus, Philo, Hermes, Pliny, Psenosiris, Nilammon, Agatho, Anagamphus, Mark, Ammonius, another Mark, Dracontius, Adelphius, and Athenodorus; and the presbyters Hierax and Discorus. And so harshly did they treat them in conducting them, that some expired while on their journey, and others in the place of banishment. In this way they got rid of more than thirty bishops, for the anxious desire of the Arians, like Ahab's, was to exterminate the truth if possible.'
Such are the words of Athanasius in regard to the atrocities perpetrated by George at Alexandria. The emperor meanwhile led his army into Illyricum. For there the urgency of public affairs demanded his presence; and especially the proclamation of Vetranio as emperor by the military. On arriving at Sirmium, he came to a conference with Vetranio during a truce; and so managed, that the soldiers who had previously declared for him changed sides, and saluted Constantius alone as Augustus and sovereign autocrat. In the acclamations, therefore, no notice was taken of Vetranio. Vetranio, perceiving himself to be abandoned, immediately threw himself at the feet of the emperor; Constantius, taking from him his imperial crown and purple, treated him with great clemency, and recommended him to pass the rest of his days tranquilly in the condition of a private citizen: observing that a life of repose at his advanced age was far more suitable than a dignity which entailed anxieties and care. Vetranio's affairs came to this issue; and the emperor ordered that a liberal provision out of the public revenue should be given him. Often afterwards writing to the emperor during his residence at Prusa in Bithynia, Vetranio assured him that he had conferred the greatest blessing on him, by liberating him from the disquietudes which are the inseparable concomitants of sovereign power. Adding that he himself did not act wisely in depriving himself of that happiness in retirement, which he had bestowed upon him. Let this suffice on this point. After these things, the Emperor Constantius having created Gallus his kinsman Cæsar, and given him his own name, sent him to Antioch in Syria, providing thus for the guarding of the eastern parts. When Gallus was entering this city, the Savior's sign appeared in the East: for a pillar in the form of a cross seen in the heavens gave occasion of great amazement to the spectators. His other generals the emperor despatched against Magnentius with considerable forces, and he himself remained at Sirmium, awaiting the course of events.
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66c736a12fc97ec6305654f271a080afaccb07dad789af5687d399266fd92eb5
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On this day in 1811, Harriet Elisabeth Beecher was born to prominent minister Lyman Beecher and his wife Roxana Foote Beecher in Litchfield, Connecticut. She was the seventh of an eventual thirteen children.
Harriet Beecher was fortunate in that she received a thorough classical education at a time when most women did not. She would meet widower Calvin Ellis Stowe in the mid-1830’s after she moved to Cincinnati. They would marry in 1836.
By 1850 the Stowes were living in Brunswick, Maine, where Calvin taught at nearby Bowdoin College. Harriet was inspired to write something after the new Fugitive Slave Law was passed in early 1850. She wrote to Gamaliel Bailey, publisher of the antislavery newspaper The National Era, and told him she wanted to write something in serial form to be published in his paper. Stowe was paid $400 (a not-inconsiderable sum for its time) for the story, which was published from June 1851 until April 1852. The story, Uncle Tom’s Cabin or Life Among the Lowly, was published in book form soon afterward. The book became a bestseller, selling over 300,000 copies in the U.S. and over 1,000,000 copies in Great Britain in less than a year, thus becoming the second most-popular book in English in the 19th century (its sales were exceeded only by the Bible).
By current standards the book portrays a lot of offensive racial stereotypes of African-Americans. But it is hard to overstate the influence of the book on attitudes of the 19th century public towards slavery. In the South, negative reaction to the novel was widespread, and the book was banned and burned in many places. People caught with copies of the book in the South were at best ostracized by their peers, and at worst they became victims of mob violence and vigilante justice, like a bookseller in Mobile, Alabama who was driven from the city. But many Southerners instinctively recognized the power of Stowe’s story, and so the novel inspired an entire genre of Southern literature that became known as anti-Tom literature or plantation literature. But even the bestsellers of this genre never came remotely close to the popularity of the original Stowe novel.
In the North and in other countries, the book was hailed as an agent for social change. Within five years the book had been published in twenty languages. In addition to its political themes, the book was a popular culture phenomenon. One of its characters inspired many parents across the Northern United States to name their daughters Eva. The book inspired numerous plays and dramatic readings. It would eventually inspire a number of film adaptations as well.
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e758f73048847979817ee78c40b460376d9dacf52969fc2e2848f056021d77ef
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So with 52 days to go until the Clash of Kings Tournament in March I thought it might actually be a good time to get my head in gear in try playing a game of Kings of War, what did this game throw up, well firstly I am woefully unused to playing Kings of War and secondly I need a lot more practice with my chosen army and possibly a few more revisions to my list.
Well with half of my army blu-tacked on to the respective bases I think it already looks pretty respectable force, and I am suprised by how cool the force looks.
As you can see I didn’t have time to tak everything down but the regiments are pretty much full strength and just need painting. 60 days sounds like a lot but when working shifts that time soon vanishes.
So on to the game, my opponent Leon was running Elves and I made the stupid, bone headed, unforgivable mistake of letting him go first. So my Gargoyles got tabled before I could so much as touch them, then flame bearers vanished as well, what as brilliant start to the game.
So that was pretty much how the game panned out, leon charged two regiments of heavy cavalry into one off my hordes and ate it! Litterally so as one regiment went off looking for my Greater Abysal and subsequently died, I repaid the favour with my 2nd line horde, who whilst being victorious took there time about it, three rounds of combat I think it was.
On the right flank my succumbi regiment and molochs kept a reasonable amount of Leon’s force busy, or was he keeping mine busy, so they took no part in the game other than running round in circles.
On the left flank my succumbi never really got up to a great deal, they shielded my Greater Abysal for a turn threatened some cavalry and that was about it until late game making a break for the center of the table, to little to late.
The Greater Abysal once he had picked apart the Heavy Cavalry went on to chew a war machine to pieces before being mercilessly stuck between a rock a hard place and more warmachines so died an slow withering death, a bad trade on my part should have thrown him at the big blocks of archers.
All in at fun game but definitely at learning experiance with some mistakes that I will not be making again.
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27176e76d984a1ce3e8c474a2be29ed19c5134201aa523bd1a466b427474764e
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In May 1824, the Moat School was founded at Cornashee, Lisnaskea. It was close to the Moate Ring, an old fort at Cornsahee. This was a pre-Christian burial place and later marked the spot where the Maguires (the Kings of Fermanagh) were crowned. The school house was built at a cost of £500. John, Earl of Erne (the present Lord Erne’s great great grandfather) was a trustee. The school was a two-storey house with two rooms – one for the boys on the ground floor and one for the girls on the upper floor. There were desks to seat 60 children in each room. The headmaster’s family lived in the same house. The first headmaster was Thomas Scholes. He taught the boys, while his wife Eliza, taught the girls. There were 200 children on the roll when the school first opened. During the famine in Ireland (1845-47), when the potato crop failed, the numbers dwindled. During this time, Lord Erne brought food to the starving. There was then a fever epidemic and many more died.
In 1856 a new headmaster, Mr John Morrison, was appointed to the school. He was the great grandfather of Mr George Morrison and Mr David Morrison of Manorwaterhouse, Lisnaskea. His daughter, Elizabeth, was his assistant. He taught until 1875 and then went to live in Manorwaterhouse and farmed there. In 1875 Mr John Armstrong became principal. His assistant was Miss Hessie Nixon and she taught until 1909. Mr Armstrong became ill and had to retire in 1880. He was succeeded by Mr Hugh McConnell who taught until 1898. In 1898 Mr John Benson was appointed principal of the Moat School.
As the town began to develop, more people were attracted to live here. The Governors of the Moat decided that they should look for a new site closer to the town. The then Lord Erne allowed them to choose a piece of his land. They chose the piece of land lying between the Church and the workhouse where the school is today. This was a magnificent gift to the people of Lisnaskea. He also gave the school £100 and provided the stone for the building from an adjacent quarry. Later Lord Erne gave a site for the school residence where the headmaster could live. The school was built for £600 and the headmaster’s residence for £250. Various fund raising activities took place and the sum of money was raised.
The present school was to be opened by the Bishop of Clogher on 21st January 1901. However on this date, news of the illness of Queen Victoria was heard and the opening was postponed. The new school was then officially opened on 25th March 1901. The old Moat School building was sold to the Woods family, then passed to the Patterson’s (Mrs Patterson’s family) and then the Wilson family. It is now owned by Mr Norman Hutchinson, the adjoining school field still belonging to the Patterson family. Mr Benson, the principal, retired in 1919. He was succeeded by Mr Thomas Cooke. By now the curriculum included singing, cookery and drill. Miss A. Law, one of the teachers, was a singer and played the school piano. Miss A. Holmes joined Mr Cooke and Miss Law as a teacher. Mr Cooke died in 1931 and Mr Robert Gillespie was appointed to the school as principal. He served as principal for 38 years.
Originally the school was one long room, divided by a curtain. Later the curtain was replaced by a wall and a third room was added. This third room is still incorporated in our present building as the P4 classroom. Boys had woodwork and the girls learned needlework and cookery. Children attended school from 6 years to 14 plus. School became compulsory after 1942. In 1948 Mrs Sadie Gillespie (wife of the headmaster) and Mrs M Graham were appointed to the teaching staff. The 11 plus was introduced in 1947. At this stage, the school changed its name to Moat County Primary School. The classes were numbered P1-P7 and children now left before their 12th birthday.
The school continued to grow and had to use the Wesley Hall for a period to accommodate the numbers. Mr Ronnie Kemp joined the staff of the school for a short time and taught in the Wesley Hall. In 1955 it was decided to remodel the school. During the building period, the school relocated to the Wesley Hall and the Recreation Hall (now the site of the telephone Exchange). The teachers were Mr and Mrs Gillespie (great grandparents of Dara Mullarkey, pupil at the Moat), Mrs Graham and Mrs Hogg who is still alive and interested in the Moat (great grandmother of Mackenzie and Isaac Wilson, pupils at the school).
On 21st September 1956 the new school was opened by the Minister of Education for Northern Ireland, Mr H C Midgley. There was reportedly great excitement when his sleek black chauffeur driven car drove up the school avenue. To mark this occasion, Mr Birnett (Art Advisor in Co Fermanagh) designed a school crest. This is still on display and can be seen as you climb the stairs to the P5-P7 classrooms today. In 1950 Mr Gillespie (principal) received a MBE. He was also awarded the Carlisle and Blake Memorial Premium. This was the highest distinction that could be awarded to a primary principal by the Minister of Education. The school was soon found to be still not large enough to accommodate the pupils and the first mobile classroom arrived. This was followed by three more!
In 1965 Ballindarragh Primary School closed and the children joined the Moat School. In 1966 Mrs Doris Campbell and Miss Mildred Moore joined the staff. Mrs Elizabeth Kettyle joined in 1967 and Mrs Margaret Robinson in 1968. Mrs Margaret Jackson (wife of Rev R S Jackson) was appointed in 1969 and Mrs Woods in 1971. In August 1969, Mr Robert Gillespie retired and his wife, Mrs Sadie Gillespie, was appointed principal. Sadly Mr Gillespie did not live long to enjoy his retirement as he died in February 1970. Work commenced in November 1977 to replace the four mobile classrooms. The old and new school were blended together. The Moat now had seven large classrooms, a dining hall/gym, a kitchen, a staff room and an office. There was also a quiet room, craft room and stores. The extension was opened on Thursday 21st June 1979 by the father of the present Earl of Erne. Mrs Gillespie continued as principal until her retirement in 1980.
Tiraffy school (near Sallaghy) which opened in June 1924 closed in 1979 and the pupils transferred to the Moat. Mr Latimer took up the position as principal in 1980, having previously taught in Gloucester House, Portora. Mr Wilson, Mrs Patterson, Mrs Rene Johnston, Miss Bownes and Miss Bell took up teaching appointments during his leadership. Mrs Patterson, who joined the staff in 1991, was appointed vice-principal in 1999 and continues to hold this role. Mrs Neely joined the staff in 2000. Mrs Valerie Clendenning took over as principal in 2001 and was principal at the time of the school’s centenary in 2001. This was a wonderful celebration of the school after 100 years on its present site. The Earl of Erne Primary School closed and the pupils from Derrylin and Teemore joined the school. Mrs Debbie Gervais (nee Johnston), Mrs Linda Gould and Mrs Wendy Black were appointed to the staff of the school under Mrs Clendenning’s leadership.
In December 2006 Mrs Clendenning retired and the present principal, Mrs Felicity Humphreys, took on the role on 1st January 2007. Mrs Humphreys was a former pupil of the school and remembers the school before the 1979 extension quite clearly. She remembers the four mobile classrooms. She recalls not being allowed to put a foot on the grass! She remembers gathering around the television for factual school programmes, taking notes on the programme and then writing up an account afterwards. She recalls trips to the cinema at the bottom of the school lane (Yes- a cinema in Lisnaskea!) to watch Road Safety Films!
On her appointment as principal to the Moat Primary School in Lisnaskea, Mr Wilson, Mrs Patterson, Mrs Neely, Mrs Gould and Mrs Black were already members of the teaching staff. In addition there were three classroom assistants – Mrs Elliott, Mrs Irwin and Miss Brown. Classroom assistants were unheard of when Mrs Humphreys was a pupil at the Moat Primary School. Since her appointment, Miss Breen (now Mrs Bogue) and Mrs McElwaine have joined the teaching staff and there are classroom assistants in every classroom now!
Today the school remains an important establishment in the town of Lisnaskea, ensuring that it continues to provide an ‘outstanding’ education for its pupils today and tomorrow!
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Full disclosure: I didn’t even bother to finish this book. I couldn’t get through it despite all my efforts. I had started to read it when I was wanting to read something that came in vignette form. I was after just something relaxing to read in short burst, as something I could tackle, nibble at a time, while I was living too busy a life.
Well, that didn’t work.
Normally these reviews have a rigid structure, and in the second paragraph I paraphrase the book as quickly as I can. Here I can’t do that because I somehow managed to get 65% done with the book and had no idea what the hell it was about. In this massive, unending tome, a Portuguese man bellyaches about his crummy life. He moans and goes on faux-philosophically about his life and his inability to integrate with the society around him and his outsider status. At the halfway point of the book, I didn’t envision there ever being any kind of resolution to this because there was absolutely nothing being driven forward. The first vignette and the 300th are largely replaceable as far as the book is concerned. There is no narrative, nor movement forward.
Which makes this a challenging read. What makes it a worthy read is that the vignettes are well written. I enjoyed many of them. I found myself agreeing with them as well, or enjoying how wisely he put together a metaphor. Many seemed to be applicable to my own life. Pessoa, it turns out, is mostly known as a poet, and there is a certain well-constructed beauty to his language in this book. But for me that was not enough. I like balsamic vinegar, but I don’t take large sips of it from a goblet. It has its place and its limited uses. I would have very much liked these tiny vignettes scattered about something else, giving context or theme to something broader. But I am now an old curmudgeon; I don’t want to simply hear about the problem of alienation unless it is accompanied by some kind of working solution.
None of this is to say that this book is either good or bad per se. Let me perhaps put it this way, if you can imagine yourself reading one large, book of poetry that hit the same theme over and over again, maybe you will enjoy this too.
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Linda Whitney - USA
Linda Whitney was born in Minnesota and raised in North Dakota. She began her art career early, earning a first place for one of her woodcuts in 6th grade. As an adult she earned her MFA (University of North Dakota) in art with an emphasis in printmaking. There she developed a reputation throughout the US for her full color intaglio prints and won several awards in juried exhibitions. She was also awarded national grants for her work with abused children, the subject matter of her intaglio prints.
In 1994 she was hired as an assistant professor of art and chair of the art department at Valley City State University where she taught a variety of art courses including history, printmaking, theory, painting, drawing and design.
She retired as professor emeritus in 2014 and now her focus is on mezzotint printmaking
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I’m alarmed to see how long it’s been since I added a new post: even though I have achieved a holiday in between times, this still must be a record length of posting inactivity.
Well, you shall suffer this silence no longer. Here is a token post as proof that the blog lives, if not my ability to think of anything worthwhile to say.
I had intended, for one thing, to tell you about the biography of William Wilberforce which I read on my travels. However, I must confess that I left it behind at one of my stops – in spite of it being a hulking 600-page hardback and not the sort of thing you might easily overlook in packing. I had at least finished it, but as usual my hopeless memory for narrative and detail means that I can only give my recommendation in the most general terms. The fact that it was written by William Hague was not quite as distracting as I’d feared it might be – and actually Hague rose in my estimation through his generous (though not uncritical) respect for someone who was much more talented, hardworking, and justifiably renowned than I’d realised.
More linguistically, I did also learn some local Caithness words this past month, even though I’ve already forgotten them too, but my rant about the new Gaelic dictionary which I acquired in the process of crossing the Minch is very much forthcoming and will be treated to a post of its own in due course.
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Riverside(i) 1 ON the first day of the week, early in the morning while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been taken from the tomb. 2 She ran and came to Simon Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken away the Master from the tomb and we do not know where they have laid him." 3 Simon Peter and the other disciple went out and made their way to the tomb. 4 They were both running, and the other disciple outran Peter and came first to the tomb, 5 and stooping he saw the linen cloths lying; but he did not enter. 6 Simon Peter came following him and entered the tomb and looked at the linen cloths lying 7 and the handkerchief that had been about his head, not lying with the linen cloths, but rolled up in a place apart. 8 Then the other disciple who had come first to the tomb entered, and he saw and believed. 9 For they did not yet know the Scripture that he must rise from the dead. 10 Then the disciples went back to where they were staying. 11 Mary was standing by the tomb outside weeping. As she wept she stooped and looked into the tomb 12 and saw two angels in white sitting one at the head and one at the feet where the body of Jesus had lain. 13 They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "Because they have carried away my Master and I do not know where they have laid him." 14 After saying this, she turned and saw Jesus standing, but did not recognize that it was Jesus. 15 Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?" She, thinking that he was the gardener, said to him, "Sir, if you have removed him, tell me where you have laid him and I will take him away." 16 Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabboni!" (that is, Teacher). 17 Jesus said to her, "Do not cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brethren and say to them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.' 18 Mary Magdalene came and told the disciples, "I have seen the Master," and she told that he had said these things to her. 19 In the evening of that day, the first day of the week, when the doors had been closed where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in the midst and said to them, "Peace be with you." 20 When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples were filled with joy on seeing the Master. 21 He said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father sent me forth so I am sending you." 22 When he had said this, he breathed on them and said, "Receive the Holy Spirit. 23 If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven. If you retain the sins of any, they are retained." 24 Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus (the Twin), was not with them when Jesus came. 25 The other disciples said to him, "We have seen the Master." But he said to them, "Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails and put my finger into the print of the nails and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it." 26 After eight days the disciples were again within and Thomas was with them. Jesus came and stood in the midst and said, "Peace be with you." 27 Then he said to Thomas, "Reach your finger here. Here are my hands. Reach your hand and put it into my side, and become not faithless, but believing." 28 Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" 29 Jesus said to him, "Because you have seen me you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." 30 Jesus did before the disciples many other signs which are not written in this book. 31 But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life through his name.
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by Jo Waterworth
There was once a girl in the city who saw nothing of the buildings or the people. She saw only birds. Birds and trees.
There were many birds in the city. Perhaps as many birds as there were people. She gave them no names or categories – sparrow, seagull or pigeon – they were simply there, and noticed. She always noticed birds.
Her mother could be dragging her from one strange building to another and suddenly she’d stop, mesmerised by wings, by an aerial ballet, swooping down to land on a leafy bough. She’d be shouted at again, but she expected to be shouted at. She’d be dragged by the arm, away from her wondrous creatures in the sky, with the constant muttering by her side. It made no difference. Nothing stopped her observing the birds, nothing made her take notice of people.
Her favourite season was winter. In winter she could watch the birds more clearly. They landed on bare branches. And in autumn she liked to watch the leaves fall, twisting and curling, and the sycamore seeds spinning like crazy things. Like herself. She would stand in the middle of the floor and spin until she fell over, and her mother would pick her up and whisper words of apology to the other invisible people all around.
In spring the birds were especially active, scurrying around with young mouths to feed. She tried to climb trees to look at their nests, but was always pulled back. She built herself a nest on top of some furniture, but she wasn’t allowed to sleep there.
Summer was not a good time. Not until the year she was sent to a farm. She was put on a mini-bus with bags and sent away, and it was the happiest time she had known. She was surprised at happiness. It had never occurred to her before. There was no dragging, no muttering, no shouting. There were new birds, many trees, fruits to be found on branches and food discovered in the earth. For the first time she looked at the earth. She saw the small creatures, she saw the many different kinds of leaves, flowers and seeds. She saw and she loved. Until her bags were packed again and she was put on the minibus back to the city, back to her mother, back to too many people and too much confusion.
She had to return. She began to climb on to buses, but was always dragged back. She ran into the road when she saw a minibus like the one that had taken her away. And when none of that worked, she realised there was only one way to rejoin the real world.
Seeing birds arguing over a high ledge, she slipped away from watching eyes and walked into a strange building, up many stairs, and into a room with an open window. She climbed out onto the ledge and greeted her friends, whistling and chirruping to them in the only language her throat would form.
She didn’t see the crowd below. She didn’t hear the shouts. She was happy again, in her element.
Someone in dark clothes with a crackling box on his chest appeared at the window. She backed away with all her friends. As they took off in a flurry of wings she took off with them and flew, circling high above the buildings until she had her bearings, and heading West, towards the setting sun.
Jo Waterworth lives in Glastonbury and has been writing for years, but doesn’t submit often enough.
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“What’s all this?” Esther said as she opened her door. “I thought you said that you made a few things.”
“Seven can also be a few,” Sharon said as she handed Esther a bag of containers. “Thank you so much for squeezing me in.”
“I don’t know why you even hesitated,” Esther said as she took Sharon’s Tupperware into her apartment. “You have no idea how much you’ve saved me. My sister Sara’s been planning to come for months. Her husband’s gone with his father and brothers on some men’s retreat and it has to be this week I get sick and couldn’t make a thing.”
“I hope it lives up to your Sephardic standards,” Sharon said as she walked in and plopped onto the couch. “It’s my first time making them.”
“Please! I was ready to buy Sabra before you called. And besides, we’re Persian. Our cooking is not so salad-based.”
“Where is your sister, anyway?” Esther sighed. “The Carlebach shul. That’s really why she came; she got turned onto it when she was in Israel for seminary. You can also go if you want. They’re probably still on the first Mizmor.”
“No, I’m beat,” Sharon said as stretched horizontally and rested her head on the armrest. “I went to bed at 5 AM.”
“You’re nuts. Why were you up so late?”
Sharon exhaled deeply. “I couldn’t sleep so I went to Fairway and got lost in the vegetable section.”
“Better than the ice cream section. And you didn’t want to make a meal?”
“No one wanted to come,” Sharon said sorrowfully.
Esther then came to the table and placed a package of plastic plates with her flatware on top. She sat on the armrest of the couch, right next to Sharon’s head, and put her hand on Sharon’s shoulder.
Sharon closed her eyes. “It’s all right. What can I expect for seeking guests a few hours before Shabbat?”
With her hand still on Sharon’s shoulder, Esther asked, “What about Andy? He isn’t doing anything tonight.”
“You spoke to him today?”
“No, but David called and wanted to know if I was hosting. Like, haven’t I told them 100 times I don’t do meals anymore?!” She threw back her head in exasperation. “These guys think they can make their plans after work on Friday and for the small price of a bottle of Moscato get treated to a three-course meal.” She stood up and crossed her arms. “I think he also mentioned Andy.”
“I wouldn’t know. He didn’t say anything about Shabbat yesterday.”
“Ah, yesterday,” Esther said. “Those guys are creatures of habit.”
Sharon opened her eyes and looked up at Esther. “You know about it?”
“They’ve tried to drag me down there. I’m not getting anywhere near that number of people being held above the river by a few wooden pillars.”
“Well, I went and it was…it was exactly that. Right when the fireworks started the crowd crunched and things got a bit…close.”
“Creepy.” She started to put forks onto folded napkins.
“Leave them here for me to set,” Sharon offered, sitting up and reaching for the bundle of utensils, but Esther quickly pulled her hand away from Sharon’s grasp.
“You don’t have to get up,” she said sweetly but with a stern face. “But it’s nice that you went. I take it that you two are…” Esther trailed off as she went to the kitchen.
Sharon said “I guess so” in a gushing way but a nanosecond too late. Esther immediately picked up on it.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, bringing glasses to the table. “Were his friends a bit too much?”
“No, they’re fine. No, he’s a great guy.”
Esther placed down a glass heavily. “Yeah, but…”
“But what? He’s very sweet.”
Sharon was too tired to fight. “I can’t explain it to you. It’s complicated. I don’t even know if I can explain it to myself.”
Esther walked over and looked straight into Sharon’s eyes in a way that made Sharon feel permeated. “You don’t feel ‘it’ with him?”
Sharon looked away. “No, I do. He’s wonderful, I like him, whatever you want to hear. I just…”
Esther straightened up and held up her hand. “You don’t have to explain,” she said, like a mother. “It’s your business.”
Sharon sat herself up on her elbow. “It’s not like that. Don’t think that—”
“I don’t think anything at all,” she reassured Sharon. “Didn’t you tell me about someone else…what’s his name? Joe? That has to be the funniest name for a religious guy.”
Sharon sighed, falling back into the couch. “He’s a whole other story. I have no idea what’s up with him. Tell me what you think: last week he was here for this aufruf and I kind of set him up with this girl we knew from college who just came back from LA. Well, they totally hit it off—and I could tell that he was enjoying himself, you know? Anyway, we planned to go out Saturday night and when we’re all ready, we go upstairs to find him and he’s ditched us, giving no excuse why and then doesn’t answer my calls all week, hanging up right away when I finally reach him, what, two days ago? Then today he calls me, puts me on hold and then comes back after five minutes to tell me that he’s getting off and that he’s in the Catskills for Shabbat. I mean, what am I supposed to make of that?”
Esther became pensive, or at least appeared to be. “Is it like him to do that?”
“Not at all. I mean, he’s been weird for the last few weeks, but he’s otherwise very honest with me.”
“You’ve known him for how long?”
“Joey? Four years…why?”
“Has your friendship ever been anything…” she rolled her hand, “more?”
Sharon knew what Esther was insinuating. “No,” she stated definitively. “Not with Joey.”
Esther wasn’t convinced. “What makes you so sure? Maybe he ran away last week because he didn’t want you to think he was interested in your friend more than he is in you? Of course you’ll
say, ‘no way, not Joey!’ But guys are strange. They’ll act like really good friends and always seek your advice and be super nice and friendly to your boyfriends…” Esther lowered her voice, “when they’re just waiting for the most opportune moment—just when your boyfriend breaks up with you—to jump up and admit to being totally in love with you.”
Sharon glanced over at Esther. “It sounds like you have experience.”
Esther straightened her back and posed like a statue. “You know Andy’s one of a quartet, not just a trio, right?”
Sharon nodded in agreement. “Yeah. You know, it did seem strange to me that they’re always talking about Aharon—”
“Roni,” Esther said simultaneously with Sharon. She pulled out a seat from the table and placed it next to where Sharon was reclining. “He’s how I know Andy and their whole crew. A friend from home told me to look him up when I first moved up here. We were friends, you know, nothing more. He had a girlfriend when I met him, I had guys I was interested in—he never made any comments or acted jealous. We’d take walks, go to the same Shabbat meals. We even had a weekly dinner Monday nights—he hated Mondays and needed to ‘brighten them up,’ he’d always say.” She sighed. “He was, maybe, the best friend I ever had. I could talk to him about anything, and we did; we talked sometimes for hours. I told him things that I didn’t even tell my sisters. But we were just friends; there was no potential there at all.” She paused and stared at the floor for a moment. Sharon caught Esther’s closed eyes quivering as she continued. “Well, right when I had this hard break-up with this Persian guy, Roni drops the bomb—how he’s been in love with me for as long as we’ve known each other, and that he feels so close to me…” She breathed deeply, wiping her eyes with her fingers. “I’m telling you, I had no idea. None. There was no hint of anything…”
Sharon just sat there, watching Esther. The room felt stuffy, as if Esther’s pain was permeating the walls and stifling the air. For Sharon, the story was a double shock—not only that Esther was duped but that she was just as vulnerable as Sharon. “I’m sorry,” was all Sharon could think to say.
“I’m also sorry,” Esther said. “He was so embarrassed when I told him I didn’t want to be friends anymore that he moved to Boston.”
Sharon remained silent for a moment out of respect. Finally she shook her head and said, “Not Joey. I know, I know…but I have a pretty good feeling about him.” Sharon hesitated. “One summer I went on this dieting binge and lost a lot of weight and when I came back to school all the guys suddenly wanted a lot of my attention. Joey was the only guy who didn’t behave any different towards me.”
Esther didn’t reply, giving Sharon a look that didn’t say anything particularly encouraging before standing up and going into the kitchen. For a long time Sharon lay silently on the couch, the clanking of spoons and the opening of her Tupperware containers the only sounds in the small apartment. Perhaps Sharon had finally been able to catch Esther without a response, though it wasn’t making Sharon feel any more settled. Sure there were times that Sharon caught Joe looking at her funny, but she brushed it off as the nature of guys. She also knew that there was the time when Hannah Jaffe had told her that Joe had said he had ‘feelings’ for Sharon, whatever that was supposed to mean. Though she afterwards watched Joe to see if he acted the slightest bit different, she never detected anything. It was Joe’s second semester as a freshman and he had
told her that he was interested in Elisheva Ashkenazi, so Sharon had figured that either Hannah had been wrong or that Joe had redefined his ‘feelings.’ For a moment Esther’s story caused Sharon to think differently about Joe, but only for a moment.
Just when Sharon was about to get up and sympathize with Esther, the sister walked in and that particular conversation was put on hold.
Want to know Sharon’s recipes? What “feelings” Hannah Jaffe was insinuating? Why Esther’s sister came back so early from the Carlebach davening? After you calm down, consider buying your copy of Outdated NOW from www.nathanwolff.com or Amazon!
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Cecil was about to leave Southfield and move to the capital, Kingston. “Why was he going to Kingston?”
In the capital there had been a ‘Government Farm School’ operating at Hope Estate, Kingston since 1910. At it’s inception, the aims of the school was to train approximately 12 young men in the “art and science of agricultural.” Cecil enrolled into this Farm School. “Why did he need to learn about agriculture?”
There was not much work in Jamaica but there were work opportunities now arising in the United States after they had entered the theater of war. Many American farmers had gone to fight, so the government calculated there would be a big shortage of food, with those farmers being away from the fields.
They needed a fresh supply of farm workers from other countries to come in to America to help keep the food chain moving along. The United States chose Jamaican labour to fill this void.
“Who influenced Cecil to go to farm school?” His sister Ida Mae of New York. Under her guidance, Cecil was sent out or taken to that school. Whether Ida Mae took him there or just sponsored him is unsure.
The time for Cecil to leave Southfield for Kingston had arrived. It seemed a good moment to celebrate his leaving by having this delightful photograph taken. Wearing their best clothing, Mabel, Cecil and Cissy ventured out onto the well maintained grounds of Southfield Pen.
With the old stone walling surrounding the homestead in the background, Mabel stood proudly alongside her son Cecil. Her young granddaughter, Cissy – who she was now raising – sat with legs dangling on a dining chair.
It is unknown how long Cecil was to study at Kingston. I imagine it would have been for a term or maybe even longer. Gaining those qualifications and farming skills would eventually give Cecil the chance to step on American soil for the first time ever….
“That photograph is one of the most favourite that I have in my collection. My great-grandmother, my great-uncle and my aunt. You can see how beautiful the estate must have been in the early days. I wonder if it was Ida Mae who took the photo? If anyone knows, please drop me a line“
Coming Thursday: War Food
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Weeds in fields are killed by “herbicides.” “Insecticides” kill insects, and both are known as “pesticides.”
In the 1930s, farmers were still using primitive chemicals they had been using for up to 100 years to attempt to control weeds.
For instance, copper sulfate was first used for weed control in 1821. It was known by the colorful name blue vitriol. In the early 20th Century, scientists in Europe started using the salts of heavy metals to control weeds, but when the experiments were attempted in the U.S. the low humidity in the western states prevented the chemicals from being absorbed by the weeds.
Other chemicals were tried, but many had drawbacks. For instance, carbon bisulfide was used to control thistles and bindweeds. But it smelled like rotten eggs and was – perhaps understandably – unpopular. Sulfuric acid was effective against weeds, but it would corrode equipment and can harm people who got it on their skin.
The first synthetic organic chemical for selective weed control to come out of the labs was introduced in 1932. Its chemical name was 2-methyl-4, 6-dinitrophenol, and it could control some broadleaf weeds and grasses in large seeded crops like beans.
But, in the middle of the Depression, few farmers could afford to buy the new chemicals. The stage was set for developments in the succeeding decades.
Written by Claudia Reinhardt and Bill Ganzel, the Ganzel Group. First written and published in 2003.
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|Darth Vader believes that this article seriously need some infobox updation, and all information on it may have an Outdated Infobox.|
Help improve this article by updating and expanding the infobox.
Belial is one of the "Lesser Evils" of Diablo lore, despite the title this is not a signal of him being weak - in fact he is extremely powerful and is only dwarved by the Hell-Lords known as Diablo, Mephisto and Baal, like all the higher Demons he is given a title which fits his role in the series and his is none other than the Lord of Lies. Belial is one of the major Antagonists in Diablo III, the latest installment in the series.
He was voiced by Jim Ward.
Belial advocated the notion that perception is reality, and it was his sole purpose to dominate reality. He did not lie simply for the sake of lying, but rather to deceive with the intent of controlling others' perception of what is real. He relished the moment his victim realized they'd been deceived, that moment of nakedness and betrayal. If Belial had a weakness however, it was that he was often trapped within the intricate webs of his own machinations.
Tyrael described Belial as desiring power above all other things and that his thousand schemes are designed toward his ends.
Belial had once been a protege of Mephisto, honing his powers of deception under the Lord of Hatred's guidance. Eventually, he would turn on his mentor and manipulated Azmodan into leading a revolt against the Prime Evils, though this may have likely been indirectly encouraged by Mephisto himself. With the armies of Azmodan and Belial unified, the Prime Evils were cast out of Hell, though at the expense of a full third of Hell's Demons. Azmodan and Belial were left to vie for power over the Burning Hells, a conflict Belial ultimately lost. Years later, much like the Prime Evils, Belial would turn his attention to Sanctuary and corrupting its populace. His influence over the mortal Realm mirrors Mephisto's own of twenty years prior, as his power over Caldeum, capital of Kehjistan, was nearly complete until he met an untimely demise at the hands of the Nephalem. He later became a part of the Prime Evil, who was defeated, again by the Nephalem. He is was trapped the Black Soulstone until Malthael's actions released Diablo with the other six evils still merged with him.
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A Little Princess
"Once on a dark winter's day, when the yellow fog hung so thick and heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted and the shop windows blazed with gas as they do at night, an odd-looking little girl sat in a cab with her father and was driven rather slowly through the big thoroughfares."
She sat with her feet tucked under her, and leaned against her father, who held her in his arm, as she stared out of the window at the passing people with a queer old-fashioned thoughtfulness in her big eyes.
She was such a little girl that one did not expect to see such a look on her small face. It would have been an old look for a child of twelve, and Sara Crewe was only seven.
The fact was, however, that she was always dreaming and thinking odd things and could not herself remember any time when she had not been thinking things about grown-up people and the world they belonged to. She felt as if she had lived a long, long time.
"The Little Princes, in this Illustrated book, a fantastic girl who Principally, she was thinking of what a queer thing it was that at one time one was in India in the blazing sun, and then in the middle of the ocean, and then driving in a strange vehicle through strange streets where the day was as dark as the night. She found this so puzzling that she moved closer to her father.."
Illustrated by Murat UKray, By e-Kitap Projesi
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This miniature machine is among the gizmos and gadgets of 'Kelly's Curiosity Cabinet.'
Step into Professor T. Ross Kelly’s Merkert Chemistry Center office and you see signs of what has mattered most during the course of his 50-year career at Boston College—his students and an enduring sense of curiosity about the way things work.
There is a massive poster board bearing the photographs and names of the students from his last class in Organic Chemistry, a course that earned him a legendary reputation for his teaching. Long ago he started making the boards so students in the large lectures wouldn’t feel anonymous.
The shelves in his office are filled with more than 150 “curiosities”—handcrafted figures, motorized toys, and oddities that seemingly fool the eye, yet eventually showcase a scientific principle, and are showcased online, as well.
“In Organic Chemistry, I did a lot of demonstrations,” said Kelly, the University’s Thomas A. and Margaret A. Vanderslice Professor of Chemistry, who retires at the close of the academic year. “The students describe me as having a passion for the subject. I do. I think organic chemistry is neat and I always tried to communicate that with demonstrations and other things I talked about during the lectures.”
An organic chemist by training, Kelly said that during the course of his career he veered into related sub-fields such as carbocyclic and heterocyclic chemistry. He’s worked to formulate chemical reactions using natural materials and non-natural materials. His research has produced four patents over the years.
Kelly is best known for his work developing a “molecular motor” by using organic synthesis to construct molecules that could be made to rotate by providing a chemical fuel.
As they started their research, the concept of starting such a motor stymied Kelly and his team. “Then we thought, if we can’t start it, maybe we can learn something by stopping a motor that is already running,” said Kelly. “That got us going.”
Kelly’s research led to findings that were published in the prestigious journal Nature and other publications. His influential work was referenced in 2016, when three other researchers in the field received the Nobel Prize in Chemistry for their work on “molecular machines.”
“Ross Kelly demonstrated early on that a Chemistry faculty member could be both an outstanding, internationally-renowned scientist and a highly effective and valued educator,” Chemistry Department Chairman and Professor Marc Snapper said. “His research, funding, publication, and teaching successes raised the bar for all of us that followed him. Fortunately, Ross was also there to help guide and mentor us in achieving our successes as well. He was truly instrumental in elevating the department into what it is today.”
In 1989, Kelly became the first science faculty member to receive an endowed professorship, the Thomas A. and Margaret A. Vanderslice chair. “I am very grateful for all Tom and Peggy have done over the years. The chair gave me a lot of flexibility through financial support for research, student researchers, and travel. It gave me a lot of freedom.”
“Ross Kelly demonstrated early on that a Chemistry faculty member could be both an outstanding, internationally-renowned scientist and a highly effective and valued educator.”
A native of Davis, Calif., Kelly said his interest in science—in chemistry—grew out of his group of friends and their interest in deciphering how things worked, as well as “blowing things up.”
“We got into rockets and things that blew up,” said Kelly. “I think that’s still something that turns students on to chemistry.”
His route to the east coast began in high school, when he attended a summer science program in Connecticut. He earned his bachelor’s degree at the College of the Holy Cross in 1964. He returned to the west coast for graduate school, earning his PhD in Chemistry from the University of California Berkeley in 1968.
His work has been recognized by the National Institutes of Health and the American Chemical Society. Kelly was named a fellow of the American Association for the Advancement of Science in 2007. But he points to his 2004 selection as Teacher of the Year by members of the Phi Beta Kappa honor society as one of the most gratifying recognitions he has received.
“That is the thing I won that I’m most proud of,” said Kelly. “The students chose me. Not faculty. The top students at the University. So, that was very gratifying, especially when you are a teacher of organic chemistry, which is the bane of many a student’s existence.”
In retirement, Kelly said he plans to sleep a little later and travel more with his wife, retired mathematics faculty member Nancy Rallis.
“BC is a nice place. It has been a great place to work. There are a lot of good people and not a lot of politics,” said Kelly. “I will miss the students the most. They’ve got energy, enthusiasm, and intelligence. Teaching them is challenging and stimulating.”
—Ed Hayward | University Communications | May 2019
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|Occupations||Film producer Screenwriter Film editor|
|Countries||United States of America|
|A.K.A.||Irving Grant Thalberg|
|Birth||May 30, 1899 (Brooklyn, New York City, New York, U.S.A.)|
|Death||September 14, 1936 (Santa Monica, Los Angeles County, California, U.S.A.)|
Irving Grant Thalberg (May 30, 1899 – September 14, 1936) was an American film producer during the early years of motion pictures. He was called "The Boy Wonder" for his youth and ability to select scripts, choose actors, gather production staff, and make profitable films, including Grand Hotel, China Seas, Camille, Mutiny on the Bounty and The Good Earth. His films carved out an international market, "projecting a seductive image of American life brimming with vitality and rooted in democracy and personal freedom," states biographer Roland Flamini.
He was born in Brooklyn, New York, and as a child was afflicted with a congenital heart disease that doctors said would kill him before he reached the age of thirty. After graduating high school he worked as a store clerk during the day and to gain some job skills took a night class in typing. He then found work as a secretary with Universal Studios' New York office, and was later made studio manager for their Los Angeles facility. There, he oversaw production of a hundred films during his three years with the company. Among the films he produced was The Hunchback of Notre Dame.
In Los Angeles, he partnered with Louis B. Mayer's new studio and, after it merged with two other studios, helped create Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM). He was made head of production of MGM in 1925, at the age of twenty-six, helping MGM become the most successful studio in Hollywood. During his twelve years with MGM, until his early death at age 37, he produced four hundred films, most of which bore his imprint and innovations, including story conferences with writers, sneak previews to gain early feedback, and extensive re-shooting of scenes to improve the film. In addition, he introduced horror films to audiences and coauthored the "Production Code," guidelines for morality followed by all studios. During the 1920s and 1930s, he synthesized and merged the world of stage drama and literary classics with Hollywood films.
Thalberg created numerous new stars and groomed their screen images. Among them were Lon Chaney, Ramon Novarro, John Gilbert, Joan Crawford, Clark Gable, Jean Harlow, Wallace Beery, Luise Rainer, Greta Garbo, Lionel Barrymore, and Norma Shearer, who became his wife. He had the ability to combine quality with commercial success, and was credited with bringing his artistic aspirations in line with the demands of audiences. After his death, Hollywood's producers said he had been the world's "foremost figure in motion-picture history." President Roosevelt wrote, "The world of art is poorer with the passing of Irving Thalberg. His high ideals, insight and imagination went into the production of his masterpieces." The Irving G. Thalberg Memorial Award, given out periodically by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences since 1937, has been awarded to producers whose body of work reflected consistently high quality films.
Thalberg was born in Brooklyn, to German Jewish immigrant parents, William and Henrietta (Haymann). Shortly after birth, he was diagnosed with "blue baby syndrome," caused by a congenital disease that limited the oxygen supply to his heart. The prognosis from the family's doctor and specialists was that he might live to age twenty, or at most, age thirty.
During his high school years in Brooklyn, he began having attacks of chest pains, dizziness and fatigue. This affected his ability to study, though until that time he was a good student. When he was 17, he contracted rheumatic fever, and was confined to bed for a year. His mother, Henrietta, to prevent him falling too far behind other students, brought him homework from school, books, and tutors to teach him at home. She also hoped that the schoolwork and reading would distract him from the "tantalizing sounds" of children playing outside his window.
With little to entertain him, he read books as a main activity. He devoured popular novels, classics, plays, and biographies. His books, of necessity, replaced the streets of New York, and led to his interest in classical philosophy and philosophers, such as William James.
When Thalberg returned to school, he finished high school but lacked the stamina for college, which he felt would have required constant late-night studying and cramming for exams. Instead, he took part-time jobs as a store clerk, and in the evenings, to gain some job skills, taught himself typing, shorthand and Spanish at a night vocational school. When he turned 18, he placed an ad with the local newspaper hoping to find better work:
Situation Wanted: Secretary, stenographer, Spanish, English, high school education, no experience; $15.
Career as producer
He found work as an office secretary at Universal Pictures' New York office, and later became personal secretary to the studio's founder and president, Carl Laemmle. Among Thalberg's duties were transcribing and editing notes that Laemmle had written during screenings of his films. He earned $25 weekly, becoming adept at making insightful observations, which impressed Laemmle.
Laemmle took Thalberg to see his Los Angeles production facility, where he spent a month watching how movie production worked. Before returning to New York, Laemmle told Thalberg to remain and "keep an eye on things for me." Two months later, Laemmle returned to California, partly to see how well Thalberg was able to handle the responsibilities he was given. Thalberg gave him suggestions, which impressed Laemmle by his ability to understand and explain problems.
Thalberg suggested, "The first thing you should do is establish a new job of studio manager and give him the responsibility of watching day-to-day operations." Laemmle immediately agreed, "All right. You're it." In shock, Thalberg replied, "I'm what?" Laemmle told him to take charge of the Los Angeles studio, which he did in early 1919. At age 20, Thalberg became responsible for immediately overseeing the nine ongoing film productions and nearly thirty scenarios then under development.
In describing the rationale for this early appointment as studio manager, film historian David Thomson writes that his new job "owed nothing to nepotism, private wealth, or experience in the film industry." He reasons that despite "Thalberg's youth, modest education, and frail appearance ... it is clear that he had the charm, insight, and ability, or the appearance of it, to captivate the film world."
Thalberg was one among the majority of Hollywood film industry workers who migrated from the East Coast, primarily from New York. Some film actors, such as Conrad Nagel, did not like the 5-day train trip or the sudden warmth of the California climate. Neither did Marion Davies, who was not used to such "big wide spaces." Samuel Marx, a close friend of Thalberg's from New York, recalled how easily Thalberg adapted to Southern California, often standing outside his doorway during moments of contemplation to enjoy the scenery. "We were all young," said comedian Buster Keaton. "The air in California was like wine. Our business was also young—and growing like nothing ever seen before."
Confrontation with Erich von Stroheim
He quickly established his tenacity as he battled with well-known director Erich von Stroheim over the length of Foolish Wives (1922). Biographer Roland Flamini notes that the film was Universal's most expensive "jewel" ever in production, and its director and star, von Stroheim, was taking the film way over budget. Thalberg, now Universal's general manager, was forced to have the director quickly finalize production before the studio's working capital was used up. Flamini describes the situation:
The cost of that set alone had staggered Thalberg when he learned of it, but it was von Stroheim's obsessive spending on unnecessary detail that finally led to Thalberg's confrontation with the formidable director.
Thalberg had von Stroheim come to his office, which he did still wearing his film costume as a Russian Imperial Guard and escorted by members of his production team. Thalberg calmly told him, "I have seen all the film and you have all you need for the picture. I want you to stop shooting," to which von Stroheim replied, "But I have not finished as yet." "Yes, you have," said Thalberg. "You have spent all the money this company can afford. I cannot allow you to spend any more."
Thalberg quietly explained that the director worked under the producer, and it was his responsibility to control costs. Von Stroheim, surrounded by his assistants, then confronted Thalberg: "If you were not my superior, I would smash you in the face." Thalberg, unflinching, said "Don't let that stop you." The result was that Thalberg soon after removed the cameras from von Stroheim's studio and took over editing. The uncut footage was pared down from five-and-a-half hours to three hours, to von Stroheim's deep dissatisfaction.
A similar problem developed with von Stroheim's next film, Merry-Go-Round. Although he had promised Thalberg to remain within budget this time, he continued production until it went to twice the agreed length and was not yet near completion. Flamini speculates why this happened:
Given his earlier problems with Thalberg, the director's behavior seemed suicidal. It's possible, however, that the idea of dismissal was simply unthinkable to him or that that he felt he could go over Thalberg's head to Laemmle, and the studio boss would surely want to keep his most prestigious director happy.
Thalberg again called von Stroheim to his office, handed him a long letter written and signed by himself, describing the problems, and summarily fired von Stroheim as of that moment. Thalberg's letter stated among the reasons,
... totally inexcusable and repeated acts of insubordination ... extravagant ideas which you have been unwilling to sacrifice ... unnecessary delays ... and your apparent idea that you are greater and more powerful than the organization that employs you ...
His dismissal of von Stroheim was considered an "earthquake in movie circles," notes Flamini. Producer David O. Selznick said that "it was the first time a director had been fired. It took great guts and courage ... Von Stroheim was utterly indifferent over money and could have gone on and spent millions, with nobody to stop him.". The opinion was shared by director Rouben Mamoulian, who said that the "little fellow at Universal," in one bold stroke, had "asserted the primacy of the studio over the director" and forever altered the balance of power in the movie industry.
Effects of his young age
According to Flamini, his youth was a subject of conversation within the movie community. Executives from other studios, actors, and film crew, often mistook him to be a junior employee. Movie columnist Louella Parsons, upon first being introduced to him, asked, "What's the joke? Where's the new general manager?" After five minutes of talking to Thalberg, however, she later wrote about "Universal's Boy Wonder": "He might be a boy in looks and age, but it was no child's mind that was being asked to cope with the intricate politics of Universal City." Novelist Edna Ferber responded the same way, writing that "I had fancied motion-picture producers as large gentlemen smoking oversized cigars. But this young man whose word seemed so final at Universal City ... impressed me deeply."
The male actors in the studio had a similar reaction. Lionel Barrymore, who was nearly twice his age, recalls their meetings:
I used to go into his office with the feeling I was addressing a boy. In a moment, I would be the one who felt young and inexperienced. I would feel he was not one, but all the forty disciples.
Thalberg likewise gained the respect of noted playwrights, some of whom also looked down on him due to his young age. George S. Kaufman, co-author of Dinner at Eight, various Marx Brothers films, and two George Gershwin plays, came from New York to meet with Thalberg. Afterwards he confided to his friend, Groucho Marx: "That man has never written a word, yet he can tell me exactly what to do with a story. I didn't know you had people like that out here."
Actress Norma Shearer, whom he later married, was surprised after he greeted her at the door, then walked her to his office for her first job interview: "Then you're not the office boy?" she asked. He smiled, as he sat himself behind his desk: "No, Miss Shearer, I'm Irving Thalberg, vice-president of the Mayer Company. I'm the man who sent for you."
His younger-than-normal age for a studio executive was usually mentioned even after he left Universal to help start up MGM. Screenwriter Agnes Christine Johnson, who worked with Thalberg for years, described his contribution during meetings:
He's so marvelous that no one who doesn't know him can believe it. Seeing him sitting in with all the important people, looking such a boy, and deferred to by everybody, you'd think that either they were crazy or you were. But if you stayed and listened, you'd understand. He has a mind like a whip. Snap! He has an idea—the right idea—the only idea!
The same quality was observed by director and screenwriter Hobart Henley: "If something that read well in conference turns out not so good on the screen, I go to him and, like that—Henley snaps his fingers—he has a remedy. He's brilliant." Another assistant producer to Thalberg explains:
Irving had a sixth sense about a manuscript. He was a film doctor. You could go out [to a preview] with a film, and if there was something that didn't quite come off, he could put his finger on it. Some of the great films that came out of Metro were remade at his suggestion. He had that uncanny ability.
His youth also contributed to his open-mindedness to the ideas of others. Conrad Nagel, who starred in numerous Thalberg films, notes that Thalberg was generally empathetic to those he worked alongside: "Thalberg never raised his voice. He just looked into your eyes, spoke softly, and after a few minutes he cast a spell on you." Studio attorney Edwin Loeb, who also worked to create AMPAS, explained that "the real foundation of Irving's success was his ability to look at life through the eyes of any given person. He had a gift of empathy, and almost complete perspective." Those opinions were also shared by producer Walter Wanger: "You thought that you were talking to an Indian savant. He could cast a spell on anybody."
His talent as a producer was enhanced by his "near-miraculous" powers of concentration, notes film critic J. Hoberman. As a result, he was never bored or tired, and supplemented his spare time with reading for his own amusement, recalls screenwriter Bayard Veiller, with some of his favorite authors being Francis Bacon, Epictetus, and Immanuel Kant.
Film projects at Universal
Biographer Bob Thomas writes that after three years at the studio, Thalberg continually proved his value. Universal's pictures improved noticeably, primarily due to Thalberg's "uncanny sense of story." He took tight control over many key aspects of production, including his requirement that from then on scripts were tightly constructed before filming began, rather than during production. Thomas adds that he also "showed a remarkable capacity for working with actors, casting them aptly and advising them on their careers."
After producing two films that had already been started when he began work at Universal, he presented Laemmle with his idea for a film based on one of his favorite classic stories, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Rather than just a horror picture, Thalberg suggested turning it into a spectacle which would include a replica of the famous Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris. He had Lon Chaney play the hunchback. The film became Universal's most profitable silent film and established Chaney's career as a top-flight star.
After nearly three years with Universal, Thalberg had supervised over a hundred movies, reorganized the studio to give more control to the managers, and had "stopped the defection" of many of their leading stars by offering them better, higher-paying contracts. He also produced a number of Universal's prestige films, which made the company profitable. However, he decided it was time to find a studio in Los Angeles more suitable to his skills, and spread word that he was available.
Cecil B. DeMille was the first who wanted to hire him, telling his partner, Jesse Lasky, "The boy is a genius. I can see it. I know it." Lasky opposed the hire, stating, "Geniuses we have all we need." Thalberg then received an offer from Hal Roach, but the offer was withdrawn because Thalberg lacked experience with slapstick comedy films. In late 1922, Thalberg was introduced to Louis B. Mayer, president of a small, but dynamic and fast-growing studio. At that first meeting, Thalberg "made a deep, immediate impression on Mayer," writes Flamini. After Thalberg had left, Mayer said to studio attorney Edwin Loeb: "Tell him if he comes to work for me, I'll look after him as though he were my son."
Although their personalities were in many ways opposite, Mayer being more outspoken and nearly twice the younger man's age, Thalberg was hired as vice president in charge of production at Louis B. Mayer Productions. Years later, Mayer's daughter, Irene Mayer Selznick, recalled that "it was hard to believe anyone that boyish could be so important." According to Flamini, Thalberg was hired because, although Mayer was an astute businessman, "what he lacked was Thalberg's almost unerring ability to combine quality with commercial success, to bring artistic aspiration in line with the demands of the box office." Mayer's company subsequently merged with two others to become Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM), with the 24-year-old Thalberg made part-owner and accorded the same position as vice president in charge of production. Three years after the merger, MGM became the most successful studio in Hollywood.
During his twelve years at MGM, Thalberg supervised the production of over four hundred films. Although Thalberg and his colleagues at MGM knew he was "doomed" to not live much past age 30 due to heart disease, he loved producing films. He continued developing innovative ideas and overseeing most of MGM's pictures. Under Thalberg's management, MGM released over 40% more films yearly than Warner Brothers, and more than double Paramount's releases. From 1924 until 1936, when Thalberg died at age 37, "almost every film bore Thalberg's imprint," notes Mark Vieira.
Thalberg's production techniques "broke new ground in filmmaking," adds Vieira. Among his contributions at MGM was his innovation of story conferences, sneak previews and scene retakes. He introduced the first horror films and coauthored the Production Code, the set of moral guidelines that all film studios agreed to follow. Thalberg helped synthesize and merge the world of stage drama and literary classics with Hollywood films.
MGM thereby became the only movie studio to consistently show a profit during America's Great Depression. Flamini explains that the equation for MGM's success depended on combining stars, a Broadway hit or popular classic, and high standards of production. This combination at the time was considered a "revolutionary approach" in the film industry, which until then assumed a star was all that was needed for success, regardless of the story or production quality. The other studios began following MGM's lead with that same formula.
Thalberg generally followed a system in managing his productions. According to one of his assistants, Lawrence Weingarten, who later became a producer, "Thalberg directed the film on paper, and then the director directed the film on film."
Thalberg was generally opposed to location shooting in foreign countries where he could not oversee production and control costs, as happened with Ben Hur. He therefore kept hundreds of back lot carpenters at work creating realistic sets, as he did for fifteenth-century Romeo and Juliet (1936), or with China Seas (1935), to replicate the harbors of Hong Kong.
Vieira points out that Thalberg's "fascination with Broadway plays" often had him create and present stories visually. For China Seas, for instance, he described for the screenwriters, director and others, exactly how he wanted the film to appear on screen:
I'd like to open this sequence on a roaring gale at sea. ... I think it might be better to open just prior to the storm—that awful calm before the storm ... and the typhoon hits and they go through all that hell, and the terrific tiredness after the fight is over—the weariness of Gaskell [Clark Gable], and from behind him this China woman comes and their affair [begins].
To be certain of achieving the desired effects, Thalberg made sure his cinematographers were careful in their use of light and shadow. Vieira observes that "more than any other producer or any other studio, Thalberg and MGM manipulated lenses, filters, and lighting instruments to affect the viewer." As a result, he notes, "most of Thalberg's films contain moments such as these, in which cinematic technique transcends mere exposition and gives the viewer something to treasure."
Thalberg was supported by most of the studio in these kinds of creative decisions. "It was a big family," notes Weingarten. "If we had a success, everybody—and I mean every cutter, every painter, every plasterer—was excited about it, was abuzz, was in a tizzy about the whole idea of picture making."
Taking risks with new subjects and stars
—C. A. Lejeune, film critic of the London Observer
In 1929, MGM released fifty films, and all but five showed a profit. Of those that failed, Hallelujah in 1929 was also a gamble by Thalberg. When King Vidor, the film's producer and director, proposed the idea to Thalberg of a major film cast, for the first time, exclusively with African Americans, he told Thalberg directly, "I doubt that it will make a dollar at the box office." Thalberg replied, "Don't worry about that. I've told you that MGM can afford an occasional experiment."
By the early 1930s, a number of stars began failing at the box office, partly due to the Great Depression that was now undermining the economy, along with the public's ability to spend on entertainment. Thalberg began using two stars in a film, rather than one, as had been the tradition at all the studios, such as pairing Greta Garbo with John Gilbert, Clark Gable with Jean Harlow, and William Powell with Myrna Loy. After experimenting with a few such films, including Mata Hari in 1931, which were profitable, he decided on a multi-star production of another Broadway play, Grand Hotel, later that same year. It had five major stars, including Garbo, Joan Crawford, John Barrymore, Lionel Barrymore, and Wallace Beery. "Before Thalberg," writes Vieira, "there was no Grand Hotel in the American consciousness." The film won the Oscar for Best Picture in 1932.
Thalberg went against consensus and took another risk with The Great Ziegfeld (1936), costarring Luise Rainer. Although Louis B. Mayer did not want her in the role, which he felt was too minor for a new star, Thalberg felt that "only she could play the part", notes biographer Charles Higham. Shortly after shooting began in late 1935, doubts of Rainer's acting ability emerged in the press. However, despite her limited appearances in the film, Rainer "so impressed audiences with one highly emotional scene" that she won the Academy Award for Best Actress.
After her winning role in The Great Ziegfeld, Thalberg wanted her to play a role that was the opposite of her previous character, for The Good Earth (1937). For the part as a Chinese peasant, she was required to act totally subservient to her husband, being perpetually huddled in submission, and barely spoke a word of dialogue during the entire film. Rainer recalls that Mayer did not approve of the film being produced or her part in it: "He was horrified at Irving Thalberg's insistence for me to play O-lan, the poor uncomely little Chinese peasant." However, she again won the Oscar for Best Actress, becoming the first actress to win two consecutive Oscars, a feat not matched until Katharine Hepburn's two Oscar wins thirty years later.
Grooming new stars
Besides bringing a distinctive high quality "look" to MGM films and often recreating well-known stories or plays, Thalberg's actors themselves took on a characteristic quality. Thalberg wanted his female actors to appear "cool, classy and beautiful," notes Flamini. And he strove to make the male actors appear "worldly and in control." In general, Thalberg movies and actors came to be "luxurious," "glossy," and "technically flawless." By doing so, he made stars of actors such as Lon Chaney, Ramon Novarro, John Gilbert, Greta Garbo, Joan Crawford, Clark Gable, Helen Hayes, Jean Harlow, Marie Dressler, Wallace Beery, John Barrymore, Lionel Barrymore and Luise Rainer.
- Luise Rainer
Luise Rainer, under his guidance, became the first star to win two consecutive Academy Awards as Best Actress. After Thalberg's sudden death during production of The Good Earth (1937), her film career went into decline from being given a string of bad parts, and she gave up her film career. Rainer commented years later, "His dying was a terrible shock to us. He was young and ever so able. Had it not been that he died, I think I may have stayed much longer in films."
- Greta Garbo
In 1925, a young Greta Garbo, then twenty, and unable to speak any English, was brought over from Sweden at Mayer's request, as he saw how she looked in still photos. A Swedish friend thought he would help her by contacting Thalberg, who then agreed to give her a screen test. According to author Frederick Sands, "the result of the test was electrifying." Thalberg was impressed and began grooming the new starlet the following day: "the studio arranged to fix her teeth, made sure she lost weight, and gave her an English tutor."
- Joan Crawford
Joan Crawford's first role was a Thalberg production at MGM and she became one of their leading stars for the next thirty years. She felt that his contribution to MGM was vital to the film industry. Not long after his early death, she recalls her concerns: "Thalberg was dead and the concept of the quality 'big' picture pretty much went out the window."
- Marie Dressler
Thalberg also realized that old stars few had heard of could be made into new ones. Marie Dressler, a fifty-nine-year-old early vaudeville star, was unable to get any roles in films. MGM screenwriter Frances Marion suggested to Thalberg that she might fit well in a starring role for a new film, and was surprised when he knew of her prior successes. Thalberg approved of using her without a screen test and offered his rationale:
My theory is that anybody who once hits the bull's-eye—it doesn't matter in what profession—has the brains and stamina to stage a comeback. So I figure that a woman who held the spotlight for so many years has been the victim of bad writing—and probably a lot of bad advice.
By 1932, shortly before she died, Dressler was the country's number one box office star.
Getting audience feedback and reshooting
According to Vieira, MGM had few failures during this period, and numerous blockbusters. Among the reasons was Thalberg's unique system of developing a script during story conferences with writers before filming began, and later giving "sneak previews" followed by audience feedback through written questionnaires. Often, where he felt improvement was needed, he arranged for scenes to be reshot. As Thalberg once stated, "The difference between something good and something superior is often very small."
Bad decisions and missed opportunities
Thalberg felt he had his "finger on the pulse of America. I know what people will do and what they won't do," he said. His judgment was not always accurate, however. Thalberg's bringing Broadway productions to the screen to develop higher picture standards sometimes resulted in "studied" acting or "stagey" sets, notes Flamini. In 1927, after the successful release of the first full-length talking picture, The Jazz Singer (1927), he nevertheless felt that talking pictures were a fad. Thalberg likewise did not think that color would replace black-and-white in movies.
When an assistant protested against a script that envisioned a love scene in Paris with an ocean background, Thalberg refused to make changes, saying "We can't cater to a handful of people who know Paris." A more serious distraction to Thalberg's efforts was his obsession with making his wife Norma Shearer a prominent star, efforts which sometimes led to "overblown and overglamous" productions. Thalberg himself admitted to his obsession years later when he told a fellow producer: "You're behaving like I did with Norma. I knew positively that she could play anything. It's a kind of romantic astigmatism that attacks producers when they fall for an actress."
Important films at MGM
Ben Hur (1925)
One of the first pictures he took charge of, Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ, was inherited and already in production by another studio when MGM was formed. The film was turning into a disastrous expense with cost overruns already in the millions due to its lavish sets and location shooting in Rome. Most studio executives chose to terminate the film to cut their losses. Thalberg, however, felt differently, and thought the film would affect movie audiences, due to its classic literary source, and would highlight MGM as a major new studio.
He, therefore, discarded much of the original footage shot in Italy and recreated the set on MGM's back lots in Culver City, which added more millions to the production, yet gave him more control over production. The new set also included a replica of Circus Maximus for the dramatic chariot race scenes. Flamini notes that Thalberg's "gamble paid off," drawing international attention to MGM, and to Thalberg within the movie industry for his bold action.
Mutiny on the Bounty (1935)
Mutiny on the Bounty was the studio's next most expensive film after Ben Hur, with some now calling it "Thalberg's masterpiece." He initially had difficulty convincing Mayer that he could make the film without making heroes of the mutineers. He achieved that by instead making a hero of the British Royal Navy, whereby the officers and shipmates would from then on display their mutual respect. Thalberg also had to convince Clark Gable to accept the role against his will. He pleaded with Gable, eventually promising him that "If it isn't one of your greatest successes, I'll never ask you again to play a part you don't want." The film's other main stars were Charles Laughton and Franchot Tone. The film was nominated for six Academy Awards, including Best Actor, and winning it for Best Picture. Thalberg accepted the award as producer from Frank Capra.
Thalberg and Mayer partnership
At first, Thalberg and studio chief Louis B. Mayer got along splendidly; however, they had different production philosophies. Thalberg preferred literary works, while Mayer preferred glitzy crowd-pleasing films. A clash was inevitable, and their relationship grew decidedly frosty. When Thalberg fell ill in the final weeks of 1932, Mayer took advantage of the situation and replaced him with David O. Selznick and Walter Wanger. Thalberg's reputation by that time for working long hours was widely known, and rumors about the related strain on his fragile health had become front-page news in entertainment trade publications. The Hollywood Reporter in January 1933 updated its readership about his condition and addressed growing concerns that he might be forced, despite his young age, to quit the business:
In an effort to quiet rumors zooming throughout the industry, indicating that Irving Thalberg would be compelled to retire permanently as production head of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and take a long rest, a reporter from this publication got in touch with his physician yesterday for a statement as to the real condition of Mr. Thalberg. Dr. Philip Newmark stated:
Mr. Thalberg had a heavy attack of influenza that lasted several days and, although he was quite ill, he recovered nicely. However, he is far from being in good condition, he is all tired out and needs rest. I want him to take a rest for several weeks. I do not consider it necessary, at this time, to send him away, as he is quite comfortable at home.
Asked about the report that Thalberg had suffered a violent heart attack, Dr. Newmark replied: "Mr. Thalberg's heart has not been any too strong and that is another reason why I have insisted that he take a long rest.
Once Thalberg recovered sufficiently from his bout with the "flu" and was able to return to work later in 1933, it was as one of MGM's unit producers, albeit one who had first choice on projects as well as preferential access to all the studio's resources, most notably its stars. Thalberg's close relationship to Nicholas Schenck, then president of Loew's Incorporated, proved to be an ongoing advantage for him. Loew's was the corporate parent of MGM, so Schenck was the true power and ultimate arbiter at the studio; and he usually supported Thalberg's decisions and continued to do so whenever disagreements about projects or production needs arose. As a result, Thalberg also continued to produce or coproduce some of MGM's most prestigious and critically acclaimed ventures in this period, such as The Barretts of Wimpole Street starring his wife Norma Shearer (1934), Mutiny on the Bounty (1935), China Seas (1935), A Night at the Opera (1935), San Francisco (1936), and Romeo and Juliet (1936).
During his few years with Universal while living in New York, Thalberg had become romantically involved with Carl Laemmle's daughter, Rosabelle. Still in his early twenties and later spending most of his time in Los Angeles, his feelings toward her were no longer as strong. Flamini suspects that this may have affected his position at Universal and partly caused his decision to leave the company. " The Laemmles prayed that Irving would marry Rosabelle," notes Flamini. "They wanted their sons to be educated and their daughters to marry nice Jewish boys."
Less than a year after he and Mayer took charge of the newly created MGM studios, and still only twenty-five years old, Thalberg suffered a serious heart attack due to overwork. Mayer also became aware of Thalberg's congenital heart problems and now worried about the prospect of running MGM without him. Mayer also became concerned that one of his daughters might become romantically involved, and told them so:
He's attractive. I don't want you girls getting any ideas in your heads, ever. ... I don't want to have a young widow on my hands.
Thalberg, aware of Mayer's feelings, made it a point of never giving too much attention to his daughters at social events.
One of Thalberg's traits was his ability to work long hours into the night with little sign of fatigue. According to Vieira, Thalberg believed that as long as his mind was active in his work and he was not bored, he would not feel tired. Thalberg, who often got by with only five hours of sleep, felt that most people could get by with less than they realized. To keep his mental faculties at peak, he would read philosophical books by Bacon, Epictetus, or Kant. "They stimulate me. I'd drop out of sight in no time if I didn't read and keep up with current thought—and the philosophers are brain sharpeners."
During the early 1930s, Thalberg was ambivalent about political events in Europe. While he feared Nazism and the rise of Hitler, he also feared Communism. At the time, notes Vieira, "given a choice between communism and fascism, many Americans—including Thalberg—would prefer the latter." Thalberg stated his opinion:
When a dictator dies, his system dies, too. But if communism is allowed to spread, it will be harder to root out. What is at stake is our whole way of life, our freedom. They will have vanished forever.
When others suggested that many Jews could die in Germany as a result of Nazi anti-Semitism, he replied that in his opinion "Hitler and Hitlerism will pass." On one occasion, Catholic Prince Lowenstein of Germany, who himself had almost been captured before fleeing Germany, told him: "Mr. Thalberg, your own people are being systematically hunted down and rooted out of Germany." Thalberg suggested that world Jewry should nevertheless not interfere, that the Jewish race would survive Hitler. Within a few years. American film distribution was "choked off" in Germany. Led by Warner Brothers, all American studios eventually closed their German offices.
Thalberg began dating actress Norma Shearer a few years after he joined MGM. Following her conversion to Judaism, they married on Thursday, September 29, 1927, in a private ceremony in the garden of his rented house in Beverly Hills. Rabbi Edgar F. Magnin officiated at the event, with Shearer's brother, Douglas Shearer, giving the bride away, and Louis B. Mayer serving as best man. The couple drove to Monterey for their honeymoon and then moved into their newly constructed home in Beverly Hills. After their second child was born, Shearer considered retiring from films, but Thalberg convinced her to continue acting, saying he could find her good roles. She went on to be one of MGM's biggest stars of the 1930s. Their two children were Irving Jr. (1930–1987) and Katherine (1935–2006).
Thalberg and Shearer took a much-needed Labor Day weekend vacation in Monterey, California, in 1936, staying at the same beachfront hotel where they spent their honeymoon. A few weeks earlier, Thalberg's leading screenwriter, Al Lewin, had proposed doing a film based on a soon-to-be published book, Gone with the Wind. Although Thalberg said it would be a "sensational" role for Gable, and a "terrific picture," he decided not to do it:
Look, I have just made Mutiny on the Bounty and The Good Earth. And now you're asking me to burn Atlanta? No! Absolutely not! No more epics for me now. Just give me a little drawing-room drama. I'm tired. I'm just too tired.
Besides, Thalberg told Mayer, "[n]o Civil War picture ever made a nickel". Shortly after returning from Monterey, Thalberg was diagnosed with pneumonia. His condition worsened steadily and he eventually required an oxygen tent at home. He died the following morning at the age of 37.
Sam Wood, while directing A Day at the Races, was given the news by phone. He returned to the set with tears in his eyes and told the others. As the news spread "the studio was paralyzed with shock," notes Thomas. "Work stopped and hundreds of people wept," with stars, writers, directors, and studio employees "all sharing a sense of loss at the death of a man who had been a part of their working lives," states Flamini.
His funeral took place two days later, and when the services began the other studios throughout Hollywood observed five minutes of silence. Producer Sam Goldwyn "wept uncontrollably for two days" and was unable to regain his composure enough to attend. The MGM studio closed for that day.
—director and producer Cecil B. DeMille
Services were held at the Wilshire Boulevard Temple that Thalberg had occasionally attended. The funeral attracted thousands of spectators who came to view the arrival of countless stars from MGM and other studios, including Greta Garbo, Jean Harlow, the Marx Brothers, Charlie Chaplin, Walt Disney, Howard Hughes, Al Jolson, Gary Cooper, Carole Lombard, Mary Pickford, and Douglas Fairbanks, among the stars. The ushers who led them to their seats included Clark Gable, Fredric March, and playwright Moss Hart. Erich von Stroheim, who had been fired by Thalberg, came to pay his respects. Producers Louis B. Mayer, the Warner Brothers, Adolph Zukor and Nicholas Schenck sat together solemnly as Rabbi Magnin gave the eulogy.
Thalberg is buried in a private marble tomb in the Great Mausoleum at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, California, lying at rest beside his wife Norma Shearer Arrouge (Thalberg's crypt was engraved "My Sweetheart Forever" by Shearer).
Over the following days, tributes were published by the national press. Louis B. Mayer, his co-founding partner at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, said he had lost "the finest friend a man could ever have," while MGM president Nicholas Schenck stated that "Thalberg was the most important man in the production end of the motion-picture industry. Leading producers from the other studios also expressed their feelings in published tributes to Thalberg:
David O. Selznick described him as "beyond any question the greatest individual force for fine pictures." Samuel Goldwyn called him "the foremost figure in the motion-picture industry ... and an inspiration. ... " M. H. Aylesworth, Chairman of RKO, wrote that "his integrity, vision and ability made him the spearhead of all motion-picture production throughout the world." Harry Warner, president of Warner Brothers, described him as "gifted with one of the finest minds ever placed at the service of motion-picture production." Sidney R. Kent, president of Twentieth Century Fox, said that "he made the whole world richer by giving it the highest type of entertainment. He was a true genius." Columbia president Harry Cohn said the "motion picture industry has suffered a loss from which it will not soon recover...". Darryl F. Zanuck noted, "More than any other man he raised the industry to its present world prestige." Adolph Zukor, chairman of Paramount, stated, "Irving Thalberg was the most brilliant young man in the motion picture business." Jesse Lasky said, "It will be utterly impossible to replace him."
Among the condolences that came from world political leaders, President Franklin D. Roosevelt wrote, "The world of art is poorer with the passing of Irving Thalberg. His high ideals, insight and imagination went into the production of his masterpieces."
Among the pictures that were unfinished or not yet released at the time of his death were A Day at the Races, The Good Earth, Camille, Maytime and Romeo and Juliet. Groucho Marx, star of A Day at the Races, wrote, "After Thalberg's death, my interest in the movies waned. I continued to appear in them, but ... The fun had gone out of picture making." Thalberg's widow, Norma Shearer, recalled, "Grief does very strange things to you. I didn't seem to feel the shock for two weeks afterwards. ... then, at the end of those two weeks, I collapsed."
I can think of no one in our industry who does not owe Irving Thalberg a deep debt of gratitude. I can think of no one in the world to whom his passing is not a loss.
—actor Lionel Barrymore
Thalberg's legacy to the movie industry is "incalculable," states biographer Bob Thomas. He notes that with his numerous production innovations and grand stories, often turning classic literature and Broadway stage productions into big-screen pictures, he managed to keep "American movies supreme throughout the world for a generation." Darryl F. Zanuck, founder of 20th Century Fox, said that during Thalberg's brief career, he had become the "most creative producer in the history of films." Thomas describes some of his contributions:
The touchstone of his genius was quality, the unceasing pursuit of quality. He ventured into uncharted land in his search for improved film entertainment, and his attainments became the goals of his competitors. He was ever seeking refinement in visual images, in sound and music, in acting style and directorial technique. Most of all, in writing. ... He recognized when words sang, when characters lost their cardboard effect and acquired dimension, when events could be so devised to stir the emotions and raise the spirit. Thalberg's films performed those feats to an amazing degree, and no filmmaker has since achieved his measure.
Most of MGM's major films in the 1930s were, according to Flamini, "in a very real sense," made by Thalberg. He closely supervised the making of "more pictures than any other producer in Hollywood's history," and was considered the "archetype of the creative producer," adds Flamini. Upon his early death at age 37, a New York Times editorial called him "the most important force" in the motion picture industry. The paper added that for the film industry, he "set the pace and others followed ... because his way combined style, glamour, and profit." He is described by Flamini as having been "a revolutionary in a gray flannel suit."
Thalberg refused to take credit as producer, and as a result his name never appeared on the screen while he was alive. Thalberg claimed that "credit you give yourself is not worth having". His final film, released after he died, was The Good Earth (1937), which won numerous Academy Awards. Its opening screen credit was dedicated to Thalberg:
To the Memory of Irving Grant Thalberg – we dedicate this picture – his last great achievement.
In 1938, the new multimillion-dollar MGM administration building in Culver City was named for Thalberg. The Irving G. Thalberg Memorial Award, presented by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, also named for him, awards producers for consistently high production achievements.
In popular culture
The Last Tycoon
In October 1939, American novelist F. Scott Fitzgerald began writing The Last Tycoon, a fictionalized biography of Thalberg, naming the protagonist Monroe Stahr to represent Thalberg. "Thalberg has always fascinated me," he wrote to an editor. "His peculiar charm, his extraordinary good looks, his bountiful success, the tragic end of his great adventure. The events I have built around him are fiction, but all of them are things which might very well have happened. ... I've long chosen him for a hero (this has been in my mind for three years) because he is one of the half-dozen men I have known who were built on a grand scale."
Thomas notes that among the reasons Fitzgerald chose to write a book about a Thalberg-like character, was that "throughout his literary career, Fitzgerald borrowed his heroes from friends he admired, and inevitably a bit of Fitzgerald entered the characterizations." Fitzgerald himself writes that "When I like men, I want to be like them ..." Fitzgerald and Thalberg had real life similarities: both were prodigies, each had heart ailments, and they both died at early ages.
According to biographer Matthew J. Bruccoli, Fitzgerald believed that Thalberg, with his "taste and courage, represented the best of Hollywood. ... [and] saw Thalberg as a model for what could be done in the movies." Fitzgerald died before the novel was completed, however. Bruccoli writes of Fitzgerald's book:
Nurturing a heroic sense of American character, he found his essential American figure in his last novel. ... So thorough was Fitzgerald's identification with his hero that Stahr stands among the most compelling Jewish characters in American fiction.
Although parallels between Monroe Stahr in the novel and Thalberg were evident, many who knew Thalberg intimately stated that they did not see similarities in their personalities. Norma Shearer said that the Stahr character was not at all like her former husband.
Stahr is special, unique, monastic, a relic. He walks alone. Occasionally men follow him waiting for orders. He is in a daze of work and thought. He carries the whole studio operation in his head.
In the 2016 television series based on the novel, Monroe Stahr is played by Matt Bomer.
Fitzgerald also based his short story "Crazy Sunday," originally published in the October 1932 issue of American Mercury, on an incident he witnessed at a party thrown by Thalberg and Shearer. The story is included in Fitzgerald's collection Taps at Reveille (1935).
Thalberg was portrayed in the movie Man of a Thousand Faces (1957) by Robert Evans, who appropriately enough went on to become a studio head himself.
Thalberg was portrayed by Bill Cusack in Young Indiana Jones and the Hollywood Follies (1994), a TV film based on The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles, in which Indiana Jones is depicted as taking part in Thalberg's conflict with Erich von Stroheim over Foolish Wives.
- Reputation (1921)
- The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923)
- Merry-Go-Round (1923)
- His Hour (1924)
- He Who Gets Slapped (1924)
- The Unholy Three (1925)
- The Merry Widow (1925)
- The Tower of Lies (1925)
- The Big Parade (1925)
- Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ (1925)
- Torrent (1926)
- La Bohème (1926)
- Brown of Harvard (1926)
- The Road to Mandalay (1926)
- The Temptress (1926)
- Valencia (1926)
- Flesh and the Devil (1926)
- Twelve Miles Out (1927)
- The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (1927)
- London After Midnight (1927)
- The Crowd (1928)
- Laugh, Clown, Laugh (1928)
- White Shadows in the South Seas (1928)
- Show People (1928)
- West of Zanzibar (1928)
- The Broadway Melody (1929)
- The Trial of Mary Dugan (1929)
- Voice of the City (1929)
- Where East Is East (1929)
- The Last of Mrs. Cheyney (1929)
- The Hollywood Revue of 1929 (1929)
- Hallelujah (1929)
- His Glorious Night (1929)
- The Kiss (1929)
- Anna Christie (1930)
- Redemption (1930)
- The Divorcee (1930)
- The Rogue Song (1930)
- The Big House (1930)
- The Unholy Three (1930)
- Let Us Be Gay (1930)
- Billy the Kid (1930)
- Way for a Sailor (1930)
- A Lady's Morals (1930)
- Inspiration (1931)
- Trader Horn (1931)
- The Secret Six (1931)
- A Free Soul (1931)
- Just a Gigolo (1931)
- Menschen hinter Gittern (1931), German-language version of The Big House (1930)
- The Sin of Madelon Claudet (1931)
- The Guardsman (1931)
- The Champ (1931)
- Possessed (1931)
- Private Lives (1931)
- Mata Hari (1931)
- Freaks (1932)
- Tarzan the Ape Man (1932)
- Grand Hotel (1932)
- Letty Lynton (1932)
- As You Desire Me (1932)
- Red-Headed Woman (1932)
- Smilin' Through (1932)
- Red Dust (1932)
- Rasputin and the Empress (1932)
- Strange Interlude (1932)
- Tugboat Annie (1933)
- Bombshell (1933)
- Eskimo (1933)
- La Veuve Joyeuse (1934) French-language version of The Merry Widow
- Riptide (1934)
- The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934)
- The Merry Widow (1934)
- What Every Woman Knows (1934)
- Biography of a Bachelor Girl (1935)
- No More Ladies (1935)
- China Seas (1935)
- Mutiny on the Bounty (1935)
- A Night at the Opera (1935)
- Riffraff (1936)
- Romeo and Juliet (1936)
- Camille (1936)
- Maytime (1937)
- A Day at the Races (1937)
- Broadway Melody of 1938 (1937)
- The Good Earth (1937)
- Marie Antoinette (1938)
- The Trap (1922)
- The Dangerous Little Demon (1922)
|1923||Photoplay Awards||Medal of Honor||The Big Parade|
|1934||The Barretts of Wimpole Street|
|1927–28||Nominated||Best Unique and Artistic Production||The Crowd|
|1928–29||Won||Best Picture||The Broadway Melody|
|1928–29||Nominated||Best Picture||The Hollywood Revue of 1929|
|1929–30||Nominated||Best Picture||The Divorcee|
|1929–30||Nominated||Best Picture||The Big House|
|1930–31||Nominated||Best Picture||Trader Horn|
|1931–32||Won||Best Picture||Grand Hotel|
|1931–32||Nominated||Best Picture||The Champ|
|1932–33||Nominated||Best Picture||Smilin' Through|
|1934||Nominated||Best Picture||The Barretts of Wimpole Street|
|1935||Won||Best Picture||Mutiny on the Bounty|
|1936||Nominated||Best Picture||Romeo and Juliet|
|1937||Nominated||Best Picture||The Good Earth|
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Ayn Rand was a Russian-American novelist, philosopher, playwright, and screenwriter.
She is known for her two best-selling novels, The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, and for developing a philosophical system she called Objectivism. Educated in Russia, she moved to the United States in 1926. She had a play produced on Broadway in 1935 and 1936.
After two early novels that were initially unsuccessful, she achieved fame with her 1943 novel, The Fountainhead. In 1957, Rand published her best-known work, the novel Atlas Shrugged. Afterward, she turned to non-fiction to promote her philosophy, publishing her own periodicals and releasing several collections of essays until her death in 1982.
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Alexis Perakis-Valat is a Franco-Greek HEC graduate who began his career with L'Oréal as Product Manager for L'Oréal Paris in 1995. After managing Garnier in Belgium, he went on to become General Manager of L'Oréal Paris in Spain, and in 2003, he became Managing Director of SoftSheen Carson in the US. From 2005 to 2008, he was General Manager of L'Oréal in Germany. In 2009, he returned to France as Managing Director for the Consumer Products Division in Europe. In September 2010, Alexis Perakis-Valat was appointed CEO of L'Oréal in China. In addition to this role, he became Executive Vice-President for the Asia Pacific Zone and a member of the L'Oréal Executive Committee in July 2013.
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Jerome Redd….who is he, really? He carries many titles and functions; mentor, actor, comedian….just to name a few….but we’ll soon learn that there’s even still so much more to him. Born and bred in the one of the most impoverished areas of Baltimore City, Jerome defied the odds by choosing not to succumb to violence or any of the other negative factors that infiltrated his environment. After retiring from the United States Army in 1996, Jerome sought to, and still continues to, “give back” to his community through his work with youth, his books and the arts. It is his faith in God, the support of his wife and his love for humanity that fuels and inspires him to be the asset that the world needs. Look out world….greatness is in our midst!
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779452c85d8d603dad54a0381bd88fe159ce7f0d84d9734028462dc2c2158dbc
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Dr. Wallace is a native of Alabama. He received his BS in Spanish from the University of Alabama at Birmingham (UAB). He graduated AOA from medical school at UAB in 2006. He completed his residency training at UAB as well after which he served as Chief Medical Resident.
He then pursued a nephrology fellowship at Vanderbilt University and served as Chief Nephrology fellow. There he was awarded the Hugh Jackson Morgan Award for best fellow in the Department of Medicine. After his fellowship, Dr. Wallace joined the faculty at UAB where he has earned numerous accolades including the C. Glenn Cobbs Award two years in a row for being elected by his peers as one of the top 10 clinicians in the Department of Medicine.
Currently, he is the Director of the UAB Home Dialysis Program and co-director of the UAB Fabry Disease Clinic. Since becoming faculty, his research has been focused on eliminating geographic and socioeconomic barriers which prevents patients from accessing specialized care. Primarily, he has focused on telemedicine in the provision of care in home dialysis and rare diseases such as Fabry disease, a genetic disease. He has ongoing research and has published on the role of geography in access to home dialysis, as well as research in providing home dialysis follow up remotely using telemedicine.
Already during this research, he has fully replaced a comprehensive follow up visit for peritoneal dialysis patients using telemedicine, and is studying the effect of this intervention on quality of life. Furthermore, he has published on racial disparities in home dialysis. Using the platform of telemedicine established for his studies on home dialysis, he is focused on creating a network and establishing processes by which physicians at the University of Alabama at Birmingham could provide medical expertise across the state of Alabama using telemedicine thus increasing access to care to patients who due to geographic and/or financial constraints may not be able to travel to UAB.
Due to his research, he was named to the American Society of Nephrology Kidney Health Initiative that is focused on furthering the use of technologies such as telemedicine and tele monitoring to improve the care of patients on home dialysis. It is his hope that with these studies, the physician workforce distribution issues can be addressed and access to care across the country can be improved.
In January of 2018, Dr. Wallace was named the junior faculty winner of the Dean’s Excellence Award in Service for his work in expanding UAB’s telemedicine capabilities. He was nominated for this award by Dr. John R. Wheat.
Dr. Wallace will be honored at the Annual Awards Luncheon during Alumni Weekend on March 10, 2018 at the Birmingham Marriott 280. Lunch is $30. If you would like to attend, please register here.
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A Dark and Stormy Night ©
It was a dark and stormy night.
Isn't that the way all good mystery novels are supposed to begin...?
Only, in this case, it was a dark and stormy day. And I sat huddled by the window like a crazed woman who knew something grim was about to happen.
I could feel a sinister threat in the air. My palms were sweating. So was my brow. My feet were cold. I was gripped with fear.
If I'd been a chain-smoker I would have gone through a pack by now.
One hour passed. Then one hour and five minutes. One hour and fifteen minutes. Gawd! The waiting was unbearable! Would he never turn up?!
The rain pelted furiously on the window. The weather matched my depressed and anxious mood.
In my mind I pictured him. He was younger than me. A good man. But inexperienced in these things.
What would be his reaction if I told him he couldn't do it anymore...that there was too much at stake? His future. My future. Our future.
I got up and poured my seventh cup of coffee. It was bitter. I spit it out. He always said he hated my coffee. Now I know why.
Dazed, I wandered in front of the mirror and took a good look at myself. The lines of worry were prominent today. My eyes looked wary, my hair grayer; my mouth trembled as I thought of the independence I must now relinquish to him.
I remembered our good times together. How we laughed in the snow! How we held hands until he asked I not do that in public anymore! How I kissed him goodbye over and over again but still he returned. He said it was because I was a good cook...among other things.
I glanced at my watch. Two hours! Would the waiting never cease?! How much more could a tormented woman stand?!
And then, I heard it! The car in the driveway! My heart skipped a beat. My breathing accelerated!
I raced to the window, absolutely ecstatic with relief. All that driving and still, he made it. The car wasn’t even dented!
It was a miracle.
Our sixteen-year-old son had just returned home from his first driving lesson.
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Doubt in the Midst of Worship
There it was. Through the haze of the warm afternoon, the mountain came into view.
Soon they would see him again.
It had taken them days to get there. Every step to the north, every step down from the mountain of God, was filled with bewildered hope. For most of them, they were travelling home, back to the country they had roamed in their youth, back toward the sea they had swam in as children, worked on as young adults, and on whose shore they had first seen him.
But all that seemed so long ago. An age had passed since then, and life would never be the same.
How could it be? They had walked with God, or rather, God had walked with them.
On the very sea he had called them on, they had seen him stride through stormy gale. This same sea opened up its gates to receive the swine, now filled with a legion of the accursed, while a reborn man knelt weeping at the feet a carpenter from Nazareth. And now, it was to the land around this sea that they returned.
Their journey stretched from one mountain to another. The mountain they had left still bore the scars of the gore that had been spilt upon it. A mountain that had buckled under the wrath of heaven as sin left a crimson stain. And while the scenes of their riven Lord seared fresh in their memory, it was to a different mountain they now looked. A mountain of hope. This was the mountain the Teacher had pointed out to them, the mountain where he would walk with them once more.
As they neared the foot of the mountain, conversations of empty tombs, locked doors, rushing wind, and tongues of fire echoed amongst this little band of brothers. Everything was different now. Every conversation shared with their Master now replayed with crystal clarity, wisdom from on high resting in uneducated men, divine treasure in clay pots.
With every step up the mountain of hope, conversation retreated. Inward thoughts swirled in quiet wonder. The sound of sandal on stone broken only by the intermittent humming of Psalms of ascent. One by one the well-known tune drew out the rough notes of fisherman whose tongues were more accustomed to cursing then praise.
To you I lift up my eyes,
O you who are enthroned in the heavens!
Behold, as the eyes of servants
look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of a maidservant
to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the LORD our God,
till he has mercy upon us.
Have mercy upon us, O LORD, have mercy upon us,
for we have had more than enough of contempt.
Our soul has had more than enough
of the scorn of those who are at ease,
of the contempt of the proud.
As the words still hung in the air, they bridged a crest and saw him.
It wasn’t an unusual sight. After all, for three years they walked beside this man, ate with him by the evening fire, and slept beside him under the expanse of the heavens. For three years they heard him teach, saw him extend his hand to the broken and the outcast, felt his tender care as he loved them even when they could not understand. No, it wasn’t unusual, but it was a miracle.
They’d seen his broken body slump, his rasping breath go quiet, his trembling outstretched fingers go still. They’d seen his lifeless form sprawled on the ground as the cross was dropped for his body to be taken away. They’d seen the death shroud wrapped crudely and hurriedly before being laid on a cold stone in darkness. They’d seen him. A thousand times seen him. The scene replayed in nightmarish horror each time they closed their eyes. Yet, here he was.
All earth stood still.
Immanuel. How can it be?
Jesus turned from his view over the valley below. His eyes pierced theirs, his teeth clearly seen behind his growing smile. His hands once again stretched wide toward them, but this time they carried no load, instead they welcomed and beckoned.
Knees buckled. Then, from some deep recess of divine memory, echoed John the Baptisers words, “Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!"
Tears flowed. Worship began.
But some doubted...
What an incredible scene. And yet, for all the wonder of that day, even the wonder of that moment, this is how Matthew records it:
Matthew 28:16-20 (ESV)
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. And when they saw him they worshiped him, but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age."
I think that for so many years my eyes leapt to, "All authority...", but in doing so, I've overlooked a great mystery.
"And when they saw him they worshiped him, but some doubted."
But some doubted.
What a phenomenal phrase. That as the risen Christ, the Lamb of God, is presented before his closest followers, some rushed forward in worship while others fell back in doubt.
Thus it was, and forever shall be. At least, that is the case this side of glory.
As week after week our churches present the risen Christ who once was dead but is alive forever more, there are those who respond in authentically spiritual worship, while others are weighed down in their doubt and fears.
Yet regardless of the response, we must never cease to direct our vision to the radiant one of God. Only Jesus can overcome our fears and doubts.
Pastors and preachers: Paint a picture of Jesus before your people; lead them ever upward to find their soul's delight in Immanuel, God with us. Immerse yourself so deeply in the gospel that it would ooze from your very being as you continually lead others to the feet of our Saviour.
But remember, you will find worshipers, and you will find doubters.
Jesus is enough. He sees the worship and the doubt—then in his stride beckons us to look over his shoulder to the valley below and says, "Peace be with you. As the father has sent me, even so I am sending you. Continue the mission. Lead people to me. I will never abandon you."
"I will never abandon you."
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"You can't see the forest for the trees". We pretty much know what we mean, but it's confusing to try to explain. After all, the forest IS the trees, and the trees ARE the forest. And if somehow we parse out what we're trying to say--that we miss something if we're too focused on something else--then we can get stuck with figuring out what is more important, the thing we're focused on, or the thing we're missing.
This is very much the dilemma in this passage from Mark 2:23-3:6. Jesus and the religious leaders seem to have differing perspectives on what matters. Some explanatory background might be helpful. In the Jewish religion of that time (and pretty much all times), the sabbath is a holy day every week. Since Genesis says that God created the world in six days and rested--and did no work--on the seventh day of the week, their faith practice was/is that the seventh day of the week was/is the sabbath. On the sabbath, you rested and did not do any work. There were pretty specific guidelines about what "work" meant--only so much weight could be lifted or it was considered "work" and breaking the sabbath, for example. These specific guidelines were adhered to pretty closely by these religious leaders, who understood the holiness of the sabbath and how important it was to stick with it--to "keep" the sabbath.
Jesus and his disciples pluck some of the grains in a field as they walk along on the sabbath, which according to the religious leaders is working on the sabbath. Jesus responds with a story from the past about how King David took specially consecrated bread, which only priests were allowed to eat, and ate it, and gave some to others (and none of them were priests), in a time of hunger for all of them. Their need was more important than the "specialness" of the bread. Jesus then goes to the synagogue, their place of worship, and sees a man with a withered hand. It is the sabbath, and to heal the man's hand would be "working"--and Jesus heals him anyhow, since the guy will be better off with a hand that actually works. The religious leaders not only found this objectionable, and a violation of sabbath-keeping, it says they "went out and immediately conspired . . . against him, how to destroy him". Destroy him? DESTROY him? Clearly keeping the sabbath is a pretty crucial thing in their eyes.
It's not an insignificant thing in Jesus's eyes, though. Jesus values keeping the sabbath--but he says "The sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the sabbath". Not to heal someone may be keeping the rules, but it is not in the spirit of the God who desires wholeness. Not to eat of the grain might be keeping the rules, but the hungry need to eat.
Who can't see the forest for the trees?
We can do this too. It has been said that the "Seven Last Words" of the church are "we never did it like that before". Sometimes we get caught up in our customs, our traditions, our doing things "just right"--and we miss the needs of people we should care about. Sometimes we get caught up in "right behavior" (not that we should celebrate "wrong behavior") that means we don't see what is really going on. A child who is disruptive may not be behaving as we wish that child would--but WHY is that child behaving that way? We can get so caught up in the behavior we are frustrated with and lose sight of the reasons for the behavior.
Jesus reminds us that the people matter, that the rules shouldn't get in the way of the people who need love and care. The sabbath was made for us, not us for the sabbath.
GOSPEL Mark 2:23-3:6
23One sabbath he was going through the cornfields; and as they made their way his disciples began to pluck heads of grain. 24The Pharisees said to him, ‘Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?’25And he said to them, ‘Have you never read what David did when he and his companions were hungry and in need of food? 26He entered the house of God, when Abiathar was high priest, and ate the bread of the Presence, which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and he gave some to his companions.’ 27Then he said to them, ‘The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath; 28so the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath.’
1Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. 2They watched him to see whether he would cure him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him. 3And he said to the man who had the withered hand, ‘Come forward.’ 4Then he said to them, ‘Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?’ But they were silent. 5He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’ He stretched it out, and his hand was restored. 6The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.
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Start Writing your BookBegin writing your book
Write your book today by Morgan Gist MacDonald
Hello, this is Roger Bryan and today I will discuss the Morgan Gist MacDonald project "Start your notebook today". Now, the whole point is that I was reading this one, that I wrote a few years ago and I really felt it was really going to be the right moment to do what my fourth one would be.... From a technical point of view my fifth one, if you consider the cookery we did two years ago.
My intention was to create a more sturdy textbook, something more impressive. Thought I' d get started with a little research 1. and this one had a bunch of great reviews on Amazon. I' ve made a few comments because there are a few things here that I thought were really interesting about this script that could help you when you're considering starting a work.
The number of words you should type per days, how you can understand this on a week-by-week and how many days it should take to produce your time line to the first one. And I think on a 1 to 10 ratio I would give the script about an 8 I really think it's too easy for an audiences who probably will never do it.
To those who have authored a work or to those I know are coaching someone in authoring the work, it might be a bit simplified and maybe even a bit overweight in the game. I' d still strongly suggest it. One of the things I think of working with college kids who have tried to compose and fail and look at those who have composed and successful books. What I think is that the work with college kids who have tried to compose them and fail.
It was clear to me how important her section on "Why" is for your work. It' s a figment of imagination to just create a song, sit down and write and then publish your story on Amazon and think you'll make a lot of it. When you write novels, it still won't work.
"First of all, you have to put this down. What do you want to do this? Is your expertise in an industrial sector helpful to others? Perhaps you have found ways to make things better in your sector or where you work? Do you have an adventure you want to tell a tale, or you want to establish yourself as an authoritative person by exchanging your experiences in a particular area?
While you see much of being an authoritative person in an industrial sector, you don't really see much of reflecting on the "why" for your work. They can say that Morgan's "why?" for composing this work is that she had expertise in composing textbooks, she had a system she wanted to divide, and she was able to give advices to folks that they could fight to finish their first work without it.
If you are sitting down and thinking about doing your first or second and third, fourth and fifth books, I would suggest this as something that would give you a good overview. "If you want to write a novel, get this at Amazon. That' Roger Bryan, this is a reviewer of "Start reviewing your notebook today" by Morgan Gist MacDonald.
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Have you ever wondered why Jesus told people to walk around naked? It’s a topic I am hoping to make my first sermon sometime in the next two years. In the meantime here is a really short answer I offered in response to an answer on a midterm. I hope it has relevance to your life even though you may be missing all the details and context from the class! Here goes…
[Walter Wink]* appeals to the verses in Romans, 1 Thessalonians and 1 Peter, which say “do not repay evil for evil” and to Matthew 5 where it says, “You have heard that it was said, ‘an eye for an eye’ and ‘a tooth for a tooth’, but I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If someone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them your other cheek also. If someone sues you and wants to take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If someone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.”
He appeals to these texts because he believes that this passage has often been misinterpreted to passivity instead of nonviolent resistance.
He interprets the slapping on the cheek in view of the necessity of a blow on the right cheek being given as a backhanded slap rather than as a punch. Being backhanded was a blow met to degrade. Punching was something one did when they fought an equal. He believes Jesus was telling victims to communicate to their abusers that they had the same human value and dignity as their abusers.
Wink interprets giving of cloak as well as tunic to indicate exposing the evilness of the system. Only the poorest of the poor were being stripped of everything in the time of Jesus. By the time someone was suing them for their tunic instead of their land, they had nothing. By walking out of court naked, the victim would shock his abusers as well as expose the true result of their actions. In that society the naked person was not the one on whom shame was put but rather the one who was looking upon the naked.
Wink interprets going the second mile to be a way in which the oppressed Israelites could take the initiative against their Roman oppressors. Roman soldiers were allowed to impress service on civilians and force them to carry their pack for a mile. To carry the pack a second mile would be to put the soldier in a position of possible punishment. Perhaps he would be put on barley instead of wheat, made to stand outside of the officers’ tent holding a lump of dirt, flogged or a number of other punishments. Whatever the case, the soldier wouldn’t know what was happening to him as a result of the Jew’s “generosity”. Wink calls us to consider the humor of the scene of a Roman soldier begging a Jew to give him his pack back!
This interpretation is about finding a way to resist evil without becoming evil in the process of doing so. By exposing the injustice of the system room may be created for just change.
Well, that’s that! I have much more to say on the topic, but it’s time to hit the road running. I have far more to accomplish this week than I can imagine doing.
May the grace of God be with us as we go throughout our day and resist evil in the ways Jesus teaches! Consider His life. Never did He condone it. Always did He resist it. Let us do the same, but without becoming evil in our means of doing so!
*Most information in this answer is taken from pages 98-111 of The Powers that Be: Theology for a New Millennium, Walter Wink, 1998.
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Last semester, I was scrolling through the class list of offered classes that I could take for fall. As it was in alphabetical order, I came upon anthropology fairly quickly. A class that has a mix of science and history could be fun! It was just as exciting as I anticipated, but it also made me look at the world in a new light.
1. Race is a spectrum.
Skin color is literally influenced by how close a population is to the equator. Hotter environment invokes a darker skin tone, which only makes sense. Separate races really are not a thing because race is a spectrum that fluctuates naturally as one goes to and from the equator.
Race was actually established in the United States as a construct due to (wait for it...) slavery. Classes had previously been determined by wealth, but race was constructed in America to ensure that the enslaved labor force stayed as a permanent lowest class due to their skin color.
2. A third gender has actually already been conceptualized in several different cultures.
While being transgender has only recently become acceptable in history, it has been termed as a third gender and accepted in many diverse cultures for years. Historically, these people living as a third gendered person have typically been born males who fall either off of the binary or shift towards the feminine side of the spectrum.
Transgenderism, as it turns out, has been around for a lot longer than it has gotten press coverage.
3. Languages are dying as fast as one in every 14 days.
It's mind boggling to think of how many languages there have been in human history. This becomes even more mind boggling when one comes to think of the effects of globalizing languages.
Some of the first dying languages that may come to mind are the languages of the Native Americans. These languages have sometimes fallen out of use due to the Native American genocides via European weapons and diseases.
Other languages we spoke about in studying anthropology included Chulym, a native Siberian language discontinued by the normalized Russian language and another language called Sora in India discouraged by traditional schooling. We learned that oftentimes that these languages were only spoken by the oldest generations of these cultures and that teaching the language was a struggle for both the learned and the young.
As a result of the rarity of speakers of these languages, some languages go "extinct," which means that there are no living speakers of these languages left. Many languages today only have one to a few living speakers, and since they are in danger of going extinct, just like a species they are hence termed endangered.
4. Caucasian is an outdated and inaccurate term.
As there is actually an area between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea called the Caucasus, and Caucasian implies that anyone termed as such is from this area. Since Caucasian is often used as a synonym for anyone with a lighter skin tone ("white"), this would imply that white people originate from the Caucasus.
This misconception started in the 18th century with Johann Friedrich Blumenbach. He was an early German anthropologist and he suggested the division of mankind into five races: Caucasian, the white; Mongolian, the yellow; Ethiopian, the black; Malayan, the brown; American, the red.
As the map above shows, this is just not true. Skin color diversified with natural selection to have more melanin in the sun and less with less sun. In fact, we're really all just varying shades of brown to tan to white.
Some have also propogated eugenics: essentially a racist scientific outlook. Eugenic theories propose that humans are actually so different that we're close to being different species, which is far from true. We can and have interbred between different skin colors and will continue to do so for as long as we exist. Part of the evidence for this is differing skull shapes, but this is not true either. More differences between the skull shapes and parts of female and male skulls exist than those between races.
5. Agriculture was not a cohesive movement, but evolved independently in different parts of the globe.
The origin of agriculture is quite the complex subject. Many have questioned why mankind even moved to agriculture given the decreased health benefits and the wrecking of egalitarian social structures that were included with a nomadic lifestyle.
One thing we now know is that agriculture arose independently as people sought a stable source of food. Agriculture also allows for a higher population and for some people to do something other than constantly fulfill their nutritional needs (now known as specialization). Agriculture likely arose independently as females (largely in charge of collecting the flora instead of hunting the fauna) started using stabilized, seasonal food.
6. Before the Columbian Exchange, the only animal easily susceptible to domestication in South America was the llama and its cousin the alpaca.
The ancient ancestors of the llama and alpaca are called vicuñas and guanacos. These beasts of burden were good both because they could be beasts of burden and they were also easily manipulated population-wise. Vicuñas and guanacos were bred for thicker wool and for overall strength as well. Their wool was sheared for clothes and they were used to trade and travel long distances (including across the Andes).
Enjoy these pictures of the derpy camelids of South America.
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Dragged all Around
Dragged all Around
Words of Faith 8-9-18
Dr. Jeffrey D. Hoy © 2018
Faith Fellowship Church - Melbourne, FL
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As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!" "Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."
So what is this Scripture all about? Why didn't Mary get called into the kitchen? Why was Martha reprimanded? It is because Jesus is dealing with some very specific problems that can affect us all. After all the consideration of gifting and temperaments in ministry, at the bottom line Martha was distracted from the Lord. Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made (40).
The problem was not that Martha was making preparations. It was that she was distracted by the preparations. The Greek word translated "distracted" literally means to be "dragged all around.” Sometimes we get dragged all around be our desire to serve or our need to serve or even our attention to details. Sometimes we forget why we were doing all these things.
If the devil can't get you to fall he will try to get you distracted he will try to drag you all around. Some of us will always be more attuned to the practical preparations and others to the spiritual focus but we must not miss that the reason we gather is for the Word. The purpose of our gathering is not to move chairs or to make meals. Those things are very important but they serve the goal and focus of study.
The reason we gather is exactly what Mary was doing. Some scholars suggest that Martha may have been so panicked and distracted that she did not even greet Jesus. That is a sure sign that you have missed the point. Are you serving so faithfully that you have forgotten to pray?
Jesus never said that what Martha was doing was of no importance or even of little importance. Serving is a focus that Jesus will lift up again and again. When Jesus got to the Last Supper the disciples were distracted by speculation about who will be the greatest to the point that they neglected a Martha like duty of hospitality-- the washing of feet. Jesus is certainly not against serving. He just knew that Martha had missed the point of any gathering and that is to be in the presence of the Lord.
Don't miss the reality that Marys can become distracted as well. Marys can become so distracted by their spiritual pursuits that they miss the fact that there are jobs that needs to be done. There are people who need care and concern. We can easily become like the priest or the Levite who walked to the other side of the road when the wounds are crying out! James, the brother of Jesus pointed out that faith without works is dead. A genuine communion with God will always drive us back into the world to serve.
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Trailblazing the Airways
By Kelly Putter
May 4, 2009 – Whoever said chicks couldn’t fly did not know the story of this plucky little bird from southwestern Ontario.
By Kelly Putter
|Eileen Vollick in her flight suit
May 4, 2009 – Whoever said chicks couldn’t fly did not know the story of this plucky little bird from southwestern Ontario. Eileen Vollick was just 19 when she earned her wings and the right to call herself a true Canadian pioneer, trailblazing the airways for thousands of women who came after her.
“This woman is a legitimate Canadian hero,” says Paul Kastner, a member of the organizing committee that posthumously honored Eileen recently on the centenary of her birth. “I sort of fell in love with her when researching her background for our event.”
Born in Wiarton, Ont., it was Hamilton that would help nurture Eileen’s great-big imagination. The city was in the throes of a growth spurt during the 1920s that would see new buildings, schools and sporting events dot heighten its sense of civic pride. Eileen’s spirit was very much in keeping with the Roaring Twenties. The spunky and determined teenager took her cues from her independent-thinking mother, a freelance writer and actress set on raising her six children alone while her husband worked as a marine engineer in South America.
“Eileen was very vivacious and everybody loved her,” recalls Audrey Hopkin, Eileen’s 91-year-old sister, from her home in Charlottesville, Va. “Eileen was full of spirit. She could play the piano. She loved parties, when we would all gather round and sing. Our mother allowed us freedom of expression.”
While that freedom meant an easel, art supplies and a room of Hopkin’s own in which to paint, her soon-to-be airborne sister was equally supported in her quest to become Canada’s first licensed woman pilot. The notion gathered wings as Eileen watched from her bedroom window overlooking Hamilton Bay the building of the aerodrome for Jack Elliott’s Air Service.
First though, the 18-year-old had an obstacle to overcome – her age. After inquiring if a “girl could fly,” Eileen was given permission by the federal government provided she waited till she was 19. Men could then get their pilot’s licence at 17. But that didn’t deter Eileen.
“Each day as I drove my car past the aerodrome a small, still voice whispered, ‘Go ahead, brave the lion in his den and make known your proposition to him’,“ Eileen wrote in the Canadian Air Review in June 1928, three months after earning her licence. “ I proposed to learn to fly, and fearful of being turned down or laughed at (women had not then entered into this man’s game in Canada) I hesitated wondering how much courage or talent was required to fly an airplane.”
Soon the pretty and petite Eileen was wearing a “cut down” version of one of her father’s mechanic’s suits that her mother had altered, and standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a classroom of 35 male cadets at the Elliott Air Service. On weekends a number of the cadets would wend their way to Eileen’s house, bearing hangovers and looking for Mrs. Vollick’s cure which comprised hot tea and epsom salts. “It would clean out their system and they would feel alright again,” said Hopkin. “Eileen could have a flock of young men after her, but they didn’t pressure her. All those men at the airport were very respectful.”
Eileen took to the air immedately; her first flight was the acid test of her mettle as the pilot manoeuvred the plane into spins, loops and zooms – all designed, she thought, to either frighten her or test her courage.
“As I sat in the cockpit I felt quite at home,” wrote Eileen, who worked as a textile designer at the Hamilton Cotton Company; “fear never entered my head and when I saw the earth recede as the winged monster roared and soared skyward, and the familiar scenes below became a vast panorama of checkerboarded fields, neatly arranged toy houses, and silvery threads of streams, the pure joy of it, gave me a thrill which is known only to the airman who wings his way among the fleecy clouds.”
But before the seemingly fearless teenager earned her wings, she would accomplish another first as the first Canadian “girl” to parachute from a plane into water. Testing her nerve and surely her family’s as they watched her stunt from their Beach Boulevard home, Eileen jumped from the wing of a plane into the Hamilton Bay from an altitude of 2,800 feet.
“My mother was frantic because the boat was not there to pick Eileen up,” recalls sister Hopkin. “Eileen loosened the harness and let her parachute drop and swam to the boat as it sped up to meet her. My mother’s language was nothing I’d repeat because she was very upset.”
Memories of Eileen’s jump would linger when Eileen was later asked to parachute into the lake during the Canadian National Exhibition. Her mother said no.
Eileen’s history-making flight would take place on March 13, 1928 when at 19 she flew a ski-equipped Curtiss Jenny from the frozen waters of Burlington Bay, making three three-point landings on the ice and passing her federal test to become the 77th licensed pilot in all of Canada. On that day, Eileen earned her wings with only ten of the male students she had started out with. Because she was barely five-feet tall she would require extra seat cushions to prop her up to seethrough the aircraft’s windscreen.
Aeronautical adventures ensued as Eileen performed aerobatic flying across North America, garnering the attention of famed aviatrix Amelia Earhart, who invited her to join her on a flying tour that would also include Jacqueline Cochran.
“They called it off for some reason,” says Hopkin. “But when we went to visit (Amelia Earhart) in Jackson Heights, Long Island, Eileen asked if I wanted to come up and visit and I said no. I was a teenager and I didn’t want to sit around with the ladies talking.”
Eileen would put her flying career on hold after marrying James Hopkin, a steamfitter from New York State. She would move to Elmhurst, N.Y. and go on to raise two daughters, Joyce Miles and Eileen Barnes.
Eileen has been awarded numerous honours over the years, including the Amelia Earhart medallion in 1975. The most recent award took place in August 2008, when about 250 people gathered to mark her contribution to aviation on the 100th anniversary of her birth in Wiarton. Eileen was feted with the unveiling of a Canada Post stamp and the naming of an airport terminal after her.
During the festivities, Eileen also earned the distinction of being the first and only female in Canada to have a facility named in her honour, when the Wiarton-Keppel International Airport named its two-storey passenger terminal after her. An Ontario Heritage quarry stone recognizing Eileen’s accomplishments was also dedicated on Aug. 2 in the newly-created Eileen Vollick Parkette at Wiarton airport.
The first Canadian woman to pilot a military jet, Maj Dee Brasseur, attended the ceremony, as did a large number of female pilots.
“It’s important that people know that a lot of Canadian women have done some pretty extraordinary things,” says Marilyn Dickson, a member of an international women pilot’s organization that was instrumental in getting Eileen recognized. “It’s important that young people know some of the history, especially our Canadian history.”
Although Eileen died in 1968 at age 60, her flying spirit lives on. Last year, daughter Joyce Miles decided she would celebrate her 76th birthday by parachuting from 10,000 feet with her son and granddaughter. And in Wiarton last summer, sister Audrey Hopkin, who celebrated her 90th birthday by bungee jumping, took her first flying lesson at the age of 91 with Marilyn Dickson.
“She took the controls to fly across the Bruce Peninsula,” says Dickson of her oldest student ever. “Later she said she understood what her sister got so charged up about for all those years she was flying.”
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A drabble - in which Caroline goes to Klaus' mansion to apologize for betraying him, but they argue when she realizes he should be apologizing for scaring her and shaking her.
"So, are you just going to stand there with your back turned to me?" Caroline asked, standing in his living room. Klaus had let her in the house and was standing with his back to her as he looked over some papers on a table. She sighed. Of course he was going to make this difficult.
Klaus finally turned around and looked at her, the sight of her face almost too much to bare. After all his efforts of trying to get to know her and show her that he wasn't such an awful person, she had wasted no time in planning the demise of him and his family. "What is it that you came here to do, Caroline? My kindness only stretches so far."
Caroline glared at him. Yes, maybe she had taken a part in Damon's plan to help get Kol daggered. But, Klaus had done way worse things. And his tone and snarky little comments were starting to piss her off. "Well, I was going to come here and try to make amends, but actually it's you who should be apologizing to me."
Klaus smirked and shook his head, laughing softly. "Is that right? And what should I be apologizing for, sweetheart?"
Caroline crossed her arms over her chest. "You still haven't apologized for what you've done to Tyler."
"Tyler? You didn't really come all the way over here to talk about that little mutt, did you?"
Caroline clenched her jaw. "Maybe! But, you also shouldn't have put your hands on me."
Klaus took a step closer to her. "Alright, Caroline. I'm not sorry. For anything." He walked past her, closer to the fire, needing to get away from her stares. Klaus found it a little more difficult to hold his ground when the beauty of her face was distracting him.
Caroline turned around and shoved his shoulder. "What do you mean you're not sorry? I never want you to put your hands on me like that again!"
Klaus turned around and grabbed her by her wrists, backing her up against a wall. He stared into her eyes, saw the fear there, but also something else. Excitement?
Caroline struggled against his grip but it was useless. He overpowered her easily and that didn't make her feel any better. But, she wasn't going to let him win that easily. "Apologize…now."
Klaus grinned and pressed his body tightly against hers. "No," he whispered, and then his lips were on hers, searching her mouth in a frenzy. He hadn't expected their first kiss to go quite this way - he'd wanted to originally take his time with her, be slow, gentle, caring. But, this would also do.
Caroline grunted against his kiss, trying to fight it, but again found herself overpowered by his strength. Except this time, she wanted it. She'd wanted him to kiss her so badly, and while this wasn't an ideal way to get what she wanted, she would gladly accept his mouth on hers in such a passionate fashion.
Klaus released her arms and was happy to find that they were instantly wrapped around his neck, his hands finding her hips and holding onto them tightly.
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Authors: Steven A. Tolle
“He doesn’t seemed to have done too good of a job.” Jake stated.
“Many have thought the same, Jake.” Tomaris said. He lifted the scroll and began to gently unroll it. “Here, in Arnes scroll, is the tale of the Guardian and of his failure.” With that, he began to read.
The Guardian was wandering in the market of a city on the eastern coast, surrounded by the people who passed him by, unaware of his presence. He was a servant of the Creator, immortal, having existed before Time itself. He was tasked with protecting all of the people on this world, confronting his lost brothers when they sought to influence man. They were trapped in the Darkness, but could still reach into the spiritual realm.
He felt for the telltale darkening of a person’s spirit, a sign that his fallen brothers were at work. He traveled far and wide, his senses trained to detect the disturbances in the spiritual realm, seeking to confront his enemies before they could harm those they sought to influence. He was forbidden to compel the people of this world to do anything, though he could appear in the physical world, his true essence hidden, offering counsel and advice.
He was enjoying the life and vitality of the marketplace, listening to the people
haggle, argue and laugh. Suddenly, an overpowering spiritual disturbance staggered him, dark waves of evil sweeping over him. He caught himself and tried to calm the sudden trickle of fear that sprang up inside him. He had never felt anything like it before. Still, he was the Guardian of this world, chosen by the Creator, and he must confront whatever had just happened. He easily located its origin, radiating malevolence like an open wound, and stepped out of reality and moved to that spot.
As he appeared at the point of the disturbance, he was astonished for a second time. He saw a tear in the fabric of reality itself. This tear existed in both the spiritual and physical realm. He would have to heal this tear in both realms, so he stepped out of the spiritual realm and became flesh on the physical plane. He was tall and powerful in his physical form, clothed in shining armor, his breastplate carved with intricate runes. He found himself in a sparsely wooded area, the trees that were standing appeared stunted, the ground littered with rocks and boulders.
In the physical world, the tear appeared as a large, rotating vortex, wedged between two large boulders, the edges lined with red fire and at the center the darkest black. He could feel the strength of the tear and drew his sword. The sword, created and given into his hands by the Creator, was filled with the Light. This gave the Guardian more power than he had in himself. The sword flared brilliantly as he drew it, rivaling the sun in the sky, its power filling him. He studied the tear for several moments before moving forward. He would close it quickly and then repair the damage in the spiritual realm.
As he began moving towards the tear, a voice rose behind him, chillingly familiar. He spun, eyes widening as he saw him standing there. It was his former brother, the one whom he had been closest to, both emotionally and in power, in that period before Creation. He had fallen into Darkness, but was somehow standing on this world. They had fought bitterly during the rebellion, each striving to destroy the other. There were some physical alterations from his time in the Darkness, but it was he.
That is impossible.
The Guardian thought, stunned.
“So, it is you.” His fallen brother said with satisfaction, a twisted and cruel smile on his face. “I thought I had felt your presence on this world.”
“I do not know how you escaped your prison, but you will find that your release is short-lived.” The Guardian said, moving towards, sword ready, confident in his power.
“That would be true, if I had come alone.” The demon laughed. He gestured and from hiding places amongst the rocks more demons appeared. Their shapes and appearances had been altered from the long eons spent in the Darkness. They spread out and surrounded the Guardian. He recognized several of the strongest by their essence, including Creatos and Helvan. Those two began to organize the lesser brothers near them.
“This world will be ours, Guardian.” The demon lord taunted. “You cannot stand against us.”
“I am a servant of the Creator, entrusted to defend this world.” The Guardian bravely stated. “You will find that I am not easily defeated.” With that, he surged forward, sword moving.
Calling for the others to attack, the demon lord sent a blistering streak of dark fire towards him, which the Guardian extinguished with his might. He was closing with the demon lord when he was struck on all sides by the demons’ powers. He was buffeted by that assault, but overcame it, his form and sword now blindingly bright, shining with the purest white light. He lashed out at the closest demons, his power burning into them, several of the weaker ones exploding into ash.
He continued trying to get within striking distance to use his sword, but the demons were moving, shifting positions, while continuing to rock him with attacks. He felt some of the dark energy slip past his defenses, burning his skin. He grimaced at the sudden pain, something that he had not felt since the rebellion against the Creator.
He was surrounded on all sides now, a shining island in a sea of dark fire. Needing to protect himself, he was unable to bring his full might to bear, damaging some of the demons, but unable to destroy enough to make a difference. He was still developing a plan of attack when the demons changed tactics.
He was unable to move fast enough when several demons threw themselves against him physically. They pulled at him, trying to bring him down despite the pain that his power caused
them, their claws scoring his armor. He was able to throw off his attackers, his sword swinging and catching them, destroying them with flares of Light.
Now the more powerful demons charged him, their fire slamming into him as they closed the distance. He could not avoid Creatos and the demon lord as they crashed into him, rocking him with blows while the other demons kept up a constant bombardment of dark fire. He sent a flare of power into them, causing pain, but not enough to dislodge them. Calling forth his last reservoir of strength, he succeeded in throwing off Creatos, but the demon lord seized his hand holding the sword, ignoring the pain the sword caused, and twisted, wrenching the sword from his hand.
The sword fell to the ground, its Light suddenly extinguished. The Guardian attempted to retrieve it, but was forced back by the demons’ might, their power burning past his defenses. Without his sword, he knew that he could never defeat this many of his fallen brothers and would fall, leaving the people of this world unguarded. With a cry of frustration and pain, he sent a blast of power into his enemies, gaining a measure of space, and translated out of the physical plane and fled.
Tomaris carefully set the scroll down on his lap. The room was quiet as they all contemplated what they had just heard. After several moments of reflection, Tomaris spoke again.
“The scroll goes on to say that, after his defeat, the Guardian appeared to Arnes, who was living alone in a cave, and showed him how to access the clerics’ power. He explained its uses and bid him to go out and bring others to the service of the One.” He paused,
then said. “Further, it states that the Guardian would continue to oppose the demons as he could, but without his sword, he could not directly confront them or heal the tear. There is a mention that he must continue to hide his presence to prevent the demons from tracking him down and destroying him.”
“Why didn’t the One simply banish the demons?” Jake asked. “That would seem to be the easiest way to take care of this. That would have prevented a thousand years of chaos.”
“I certainly do not know the mind of the Creator, Jake.” Tomaris said with a soft chuckle. “We have to assume that there is a reason for all things, even if we can’t understand why.”
“Also, consider that our lives are but like flashes of light in the broad sweep of time.” Tomaris said more seriously. “You are young and I am sure that the time to reach your age seems to have taken a long time, but at my age, that period of my own life seems but a brief moment. Can you imagine what a thousand years would be to an immortal creature that existed before the creation of time? Likely, those long years seem but what a few minutes would be to us.”
“Now that we know this, Tomaris, what do we do with it?” Dominic asked. “You did not simply come here to give us a history lesson.”
“You are correct, Dominic.” Tomaris replied. “I think I have found a way that we can help Jake return to his world and gain another weapon in our fight against our enemies.” He paused, looking
at each of them, appearing to gauge what reaction his words would bring. “I believe that we must find and recover the Guardian’s sword.”
“Are you mad, Tomaris?” Dominic asked, voice deathly quiet. “How can we accomplish something that the Guardian cannot do?”
“I am sane I assure you, Dominic.” Tomaris replied evenly, taking no offence. “I still don’t understand how Jake was brought here, other than it took someone or something with great power. Even if I solve that puzzle, I lack the strength to even attempt to return Jake to his world. The sword is a source of great power. With it, I believe that we stand the greatest chance to be successful in helping Jake, as well as having a mighty weapon to wield against our enemies. If we were to succeed, perhaps the Guardian himself would appear, sending Jake to his home and closing the tear.”
He paused for a moment. “Also, it may be a mad idea, as you suggest, but I doubt that our enemies even dare to believe that we would make the attempt. What are we compared to the Guardian? That may give us the edge we need to be successful.”
“Where is the sword, then?” Dominic demanded. “Why have you not seized it before, if it can be done?”
“I do not know the exact location of the sword.” Tomaris admitted. He held up his hands when everyone, shocked and in disbelief, began to protest. After it quieted, he continued. “I am confidant that we can locate it, but it will take courage and determination. When I was a younger man, I heard many stories of a powerful object that the demons protected. I tracked down those leads and found clues that now indicate to me that the object of those stories is the sword. The demons cannot touch or use the sword as it is an anathema to them, but they protect it to keep it from the Guardian. I was never able to find it or I would have attempted to take it; it is moved from time to time.”
“What I propose is dangerous, with a small chance of success, but the reward is great.” He looked at Dominic. “I know that you have small regard for your own safety, but are you willing to risk your life for a chance to send Jake back to his proper world?”
“I would risk it, as long as it is not a fool’s errand.” Dominic replied directly, face neutral and arms crossed.
Tomaris nodded and turned to Jake. “Jake, are you willing to face danger and hardship in an effort to find a way home?” He asked, watching him closely.
“I would, if I wasn’t in this condition.” Jake stated.
Tomaris sat silent for a while, studying Jake and thinking. “I believe that, with Jonas’ assistance, I can help you with that. However, I think that we can use your current condition to aid us.”
“Do you still believe that the demons have spies in the city, as you mentioned in your letter, Jonas?” Tomaris asked.
“I do.” Jonas replied. “We know that their attack was directed at Jake. They knew of him, where he lived and with whom he associated. They could only know that if someone in the city was providing that information.” He absently scratched his beard. “Also, the attack on the princess was meant to draw Jake out. Someone had to know the schedule of her travels and that would only come from the palace.”
“Let us use this to our advantage.” Tomaris said. “We will let it be known that I am taking Jake back to the Keep to study his condition. Once we are safely away, we can send him off in search for the sword.”
“Surely you do not intend to send Jake off by himself?” Jonas asked, incredulous.
“No.” Tomaris replied. “He will need someone who knows something of the world and can help guide him.”
“I will go.” Dominic said. “I will protect him.”
“No, not you, Dominic.” Tomaris disagreed. “You are too well known and if our enemies see a young man with you, they will know who that is and realize our ruse.” He continued more gently. “You will search for the sword, but not in the way you may think.”
“Who then, if not me?” Dominic demanded.
Tomaris looked over at Hailyn and nodded.
“Absolutely not!” Jonas interjected. “She has just barely passed her tests. If a cleric is needed, then I will go.”
“No, friend Jonas.” Tomaris said kindly. “You are as well known as Dominic. Your presence would draw unnecessary attention.” He looked at Jonas with a measure of sadness in his eyes. “Also, I sometime have glimpses of what may be. In these visions, I have seen that you will be needed here. If you are not present, then terrible things will happen.”
“Then, I will find another cleric to go with Jake.” Jonas replied, frustration evident on his face. “Hailyn is not ready.”
“Jake will need someone that he trusts and can rely on.” Tomaris responded. “Can you find a cleric who will care more for Jake than this beautiful child does?”
Jonas was quiet, his jaw clenching as he thought of how to respond. In that silence, Dominic spoke.
“She is a cleric now, Jonas.” He said directly. “She may be young, but she is a skilled healer, level-headed and brave. The boy and her get along, which is important on long missions. She seems the best choice.”
He turned to Hailyn. “Will you go with Jake, girl? Knowing the risks and the small chance of success?” Dominic asked.
Hailyn straightened and responded. “I will, Dominic.” She looked over at Jonas. “If Brother Jonas allows it.”
Jonas struggled with his emotions; he saw both the longing and the fear of being left behind in her eyes. He knew of her feelings, but he thought of her almost like a daughter; he was closer to her than any of the other apprentices in the Temple. He wrestled with his desire to protect her and realization that Dom was right. Saying a silent prayer for strength, he tried to believe that he was doing the right thing.
“Hailyn will go.” He said reluctantly. “As Dom said, she appears to be the best choice.” He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to ignore the look of relief on her face. “She is a cleric of the One and we must trust in His grace to keep them both safe.”
“We still face a choice.” Tomaris said. “From what I have been able to piece together, I believe that the sword is in one of two locations. While it is imprecise and the true location unknown, one set of clues points to the north, somewhere in Beragan, while the other suggests it is in the far south of Aletonia, near the Southern Wilds. What I propose is that we send Jake and Hailyn to the north while Dominic will accompany Moshanna to the south. Moshanna is from Aletonia, so he can assist Dominic.”
“Shouldn’t we send some soldiers or other clerics along with them?” Jonas asked. “While Dom can usually take care of himself, demons likely guard these sites and only clerics can succeed there.”
“Stealth will be key to this quest, Jonas.” Tomaris replied. “Too large a group and it will attract attention. Also, neither country is likely to welcome Sanduan soldiers roaming inside their borders.” He thought for a moment. “While Jake and Hailyn have the power to stand against the demons, Dominic and Moshanna will need some magic on their side.”
“What do you propose then?” Jonas queried.
“Can you find a cleric around Jake’s size?” Tomaris responded. “One that is strong in his power?”
Jonas thought it over, and then nodded. “I know a cleric that I trust to do this.”
“Then you will announce that Hailyn and this other cleric are going on a mission to the clerics of Beragan and they will accompany us when we head back to the Keep.” Tomaris stated. “Once we get to the crossroads, we will dress Jake in the cleric’s robes and send them north. The cleric will act as Jake’s double until we reach the Keep, then he can accompany Dominic south. Dominic’s presence with my party is obvious, as he is known as Jake’s protector, and will reinforce the idea that Jake is at the Keep.”
“Remember, we must keep this plan secret.” Tomaris cautioned. “If our true purpose is known, then the demons will move the sword or reinforce their positions.”
“Are we agreed?” He asked. Dominic gave a curt nod while Jonas did so reluctantly. Hailyn looked at Jake and they both indicated yes.
“Now, it has been a long day. I am old and travel is not as pleasurable as it once was.” Tomaris said. “We will use tomorrow to prepare for the journey, then Jonas and I will return tomorrow night to heal Jake. We can depart early the next morning.”
“Come to the Temple, Tomaris.” Jonas said, heading to the door. “We have room for you and your men.”
“Thank you, friend Jonas.” Tomaris responded. “Your hospitality is much appreciated.” He looked back towards Jake.
“If you allow me a private moment with Jake?” Tomaris requested.
“We will wait outside.” Jonas said and he left, followed by Dominic and Hailyn.
“Child, this is a dangerous undertaking.” Tomaris began. “If I was younger and could endure the physical demands of this quest, I would accompany you. Since I cannot, you must rely on your strength and power. Even if you remain undetected, you may still face challenges that will test you to your limits. Remember what you are trying to accomplish and have faith in yourself.”
“However, you must learn to control your fear.” He continued. “I believe that your fear is what triggered the intertwining of your life force with your power. Jonas told me of what happened that caused you to touch that force. Both times it sounded as if you were frightened enough that the fear overwhelmed you. I know that Dominic has tried to train you to keep fighting even when afraid. That control is the same with your power.”
“I admit I was scared out of my mind, but all I did was try to gain more power. I didn’t do anything different.” Jake stated, looking down at his hands, seeing the unnatural paleness. “I still don’t understand what you and Jonas mean by my life force.”
“Your life force is that which animates your physical body.” Tomaris explained. “I have told you that man is a creature of two worlds, the physical and spiritual. The life force is a gift of Light from the Creator that provides the energy that powers your body while binding your spirit to your mortal form. But you should know that it is a finite resource. As we age, it slowly dissipates, causing the body to weaken and that spiritual binding to become frayed. Once it is exhausted, the body dies, the bond disappears and our spirits returns to the Creator.”
“In some way, you are able to tap into it.” He continued. “Since it is pure Light, it is very powerful against the forces of Darkness. But, as you know, there is a cost for using it. If you use too much, then you will die.”
“You have been lucky so far.” Tomaris stated. “In the first instance, you had Jonas nearby to succor you. You had your friends to bring you out the second time. I will be able to help you now, but once you only have Hailyn with you, a third use may mean that either you or she will die. That is why I urge you to gain control of your fear since fear is the trigger. I will not say that you may not face a situation where that use will be required to defeat your foes, but if you use it, know that it will likely kill you.”
“How do I keep from using it, then?” Jake asked. “Controlling fear is easier said than done.”
“Unfortunately, I cannot help you there. Only you can control your fear, Jake.” Tomaris said understandingly. “You must hold onto courage and calmness in the face of danger. Keep in the forefront of your mind something like home, or perhaps someone special, that would be lost if you cannot control your fear and are killed.”
Tomaris rose to leave. “If you wish to say farewell to your friends here, I would encourage you to do that.” He said kindly, eyes compassionate. “Your fate is unclear, but whatever results this quest brings, it is unlikely that you will return.” With that, he turned and left.
Jake released his magic, sagging against the wall, and thought about all that had been said. His emotions were jumbled and conflicting. He felt excited, nervous and sad at the thought of leaving, but was troubled by the ribbon of fear that twisted in his mind as he contemplated embarking on a quest that would be full of dangers.
The next day passed quickly for Jake. Knowing that he may never see them again, he got up early and went with Norlan to the smithy to spend some time with Dern and Almos. The walk was tiring, but he tried to stay engaged for their sake. He spent a couple of hours talking with them, catching up on all that happened since he left. When Norlan suggested that he go back to the house, he said his goodbyes, politely telling them that he would try to return after he finishes at the Keep, keeping the finality of his departure to himself. They had been good friends to him when he needed friends, so it was a slow and sad walk back to the house.
He then spent the rest of the day with Cherise and Madalin. They had been told that he was returning to the Keep so Tomaris could find a way to heal him. They paid close attention to him, fussing over him really, and already teary-eyed regarding his departure. Jake tried to put on a brave face, not wanting them to worry.
When Norlan returned in the early evening, Dominic was with him. Jake noticed that he had a different breastplate on, one that looked like his old one. Jake asked him about it.
“You have a good eye, boy.” Dominic replied. “This is my old armor. I recovered it after we had cleared the demons’ fortress. It was custom-made for me and I wanted to see if Norlan could pound out the dent and fix the straps. I had gone to the smithy this morning, arriving shortly after you left, hoping that something could be done. We were discussing it when Jonas and Tomaris arrived at the smithy. I am not sure what he did, but with Tomaris’ help, Norlan was able to repair it.”
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When Amari Tankard CC’17 got to Columbia, she was apprehensive about speaking in large groups.
But after studying abroad in Paris, where she acclimated to a new culture during Spring 2016, and serving as president of Proud Colors, an LGBTQ group for students of color, Tankard is not afraid to let her voice be heard.
“When I was a first year, I definitely had an apprehension of speaking up in groups in an academic setting,” she said. “I think being a campus leader definitely helped because it’s made me more outspoken.”
Tankard, a chemistry major from the Bronx, joined the board of Proud Colors in Fall 2014 as a sophomore and then became president the next fall, running it even while she was abroad. Under her leadership, membership has grown from eight to more than 30 students, and she worked to bring New York Daily News columnist Shaun King to speak on campus in October 2016.
Tankard brings the same passion and newfound candor to her research, which hits close to home. She has always been interested in diseases – cancer runs in her family – and so has decided to go into research. She will work next year at Kadmon Holdings, a biopharmaceutical company based in New York, and then hopes to go to graduate school for a Ph.D. in biomedical sciences.
In Her Own Words
“When I was younger, I didn’t really understand [cancer], so I thought, why not investigate it and see what’s happening? I was confused by the science of it and that’s when I decided I wanted to cure cancer, when I was 10. Being a woman and black and in science is a rare combination. I want to be the researcher behind making more effective drugs. You think how cancer spreads and how it’s a form of cell regulation, so what [we can] fix or change is how our medications are affecting healthy tissue and how they’re targeting abnormal cells.” —Amari Tankard CC’17
Corinne Lestch SOA’18 is a freelance writer based in New York City. She has worked for the New York Daily News, where she received a Front Page Award from the Newswomen’s Club of New York, and is currently getting her M.F.A. in creative writing at Columbia's School of the Arts. She received a B.S. in journalism from Northwestern University in 2010.
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SATURDAY UPDATE ON WHO KILLED LIBIA – EPISODE 44 ON UTV
John goes to tell Sofia that he has something important to tell her and he wants her to pay much attention to him but Sofia rather sits John down to tell him a little about her late father Bernardo. She continues by telling John that her father once had a mistress called Libia before he passed away and on the day of his burial, the young and beautiful girl Libia came to their hacienda and there she confessed that she was pregnant for her father Bernardo but Gabriela really maltreated Libia and threw her out. But up till now, she really thinks about that young lady because she could feel her father Bernardo really loved her as she said and it really pains her that she died so soon. John then asks Sofia if she ever went looking for Libia and Sofia replies that she, Eva and Don Augustin thought of looking for Libia but that was the time they realized she was dead but she is very happy because she knows that Libia and her da will continue their love journey wherever they may be.
Petra goes to threaten Fernando to give her more money else she is going to dispose all his bad deeds and also inform everyone that he Fernando was the one who beat Rosa up and took away her son Luis. Fernando then agrees to comply to Petra’s demand and Petra tells Fernando that she will forever stay away from him if he will do as he says but Fernando says in his mind that he is going to make sure she indeed stays away forever because he will eliminate her as he smiles.
Oscar tries to explain to Jemima that there is nothing going on between him and Rosa but rather he was only consoling her because she was desperately in search of Franco but Jemima refuses to understand him and tells him to leave her sight. Oscar then asks Jemima if she is being serious because if he should leave as she says, a time will come whereby she is going to regret everything and by then it might be too late for her to reconcile yet Jemima still stands by her decision and asks Oscar to leave. Oscar agrees to leave and he informs Jemima that he is going to sacrifice himself to God and serve him as a priest and there Jemima stands in shock.
Oscar tells Franco that he wants to be a priest since Jemima is refusing to accept him and Franco teasingly tells Oscar to be serious for once. In the same vein, Pablo and his grandmother Delfina approaches and Oscar and Franco asks if everything is ok with them since Delfina looked sick and weak and Pablo explains to them that his grandma is not well and he doesn’t know what to do and as they talk, Petra appears very drunk and she tries to attack Pablo but Oscar and Franco stops her and there Pablo informs the brothers that Petra is the one who looks after Luis and maltreats him all the time. Petra then tells Pablo that she is going to deal with him for meddling into her affairs and Oscar yells at Petra to be careful else if she lays a finger on Pablo, he will kill her and there Petra takes Oscar’s statement and tells him that if anything should happen to her, he Oscar will be blamed because he just mentioned that he is going to kill her and she angrily leaves. In the same vein, Armando and his guards sits somewhere and listens.
Fernando calls Armando and informs him that he has an assignment for him and Armando asks what he wants him to do this time around and Fernando tells Armando to eliminate Petra for him this very night because she is in town and is blackmailing him for money. Armando then tells Fernando that there is no problem at all because he overheard Petra exchanging words with Oscar and Franco and there Oscar threatens to kill her if she should mess up with them so they can therefore eliminate her and later if people finds out that she is dead they will put the blame on Oscar and Franco which will lead them to be imprisoned and there all their wishes will finally come true and Fernando congratulates Armando for bringing up such a good idea as they jubilate. In the same vein, Armando pays someone to eliminate Petra and the following morning, a hotel attendant finds Petra lying dead in her room and she screams.
An officer and his policemen goes to summon Oscar and Franco that they have been charged for the murder of a woman called Petra and John furiously asks the officer why he is saying so and the officer explains to John that someone overheard his brothers arguing with Petra the previous night and there they threatened to kill the woman so they will have to carry investigations and if they turns out not to be guilty, they will be discharged and Oscar and Franco agrees to go with the officers. In the same vein, John goes to encourage his brothers that he is going to do his best to prove their innocence and get them out of cells.
Rosa tells Ofelia that he saw Armando giving a huge sum of money to one of the guards and it makes her wonder why because Armando only does that for a purpose and there Ofelia and Rosa gets frightened because they knew Armando and Fernando are definitely up to something.
Fernando goes to inform Gabriela and her daughters that Oscar and Franco has been detained by the police for murder and there Sarah and Jemima gets shocked but Jemima tells Fernando that Oscar and his brother can’t be murderers but Sarah objects to it.
John and Father Teddy goes to defend Oscar and Franco to the officer and there the officer informs them that he sent his boys to where the incident happened and they found a weapon which they think Oscar and Franco used in murdering Petra so they find it as a great evidence against them and John and Father Teddy stands speechless.
Credit: TelenovelaGH | Who Killed Libia Episode 44 Update on Saturday 25th August 2019
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“Hey you!” An angelic voice called. “Come.”
It was a little after midday; grey clouds were rushing in towards the semi-dry land from the horizon, and little droplets of rain raced to cover the concrete pavement, turn it into puddles, and draw a rainbow above the waters. The waves were roaring fiercely, every now and then vomiting on the scarce passersby by surprise. It was a vision I had grown accustomed to throughout the years and enjoyed.
A cold wind blew as I turned around to look at the direction where the voice came from. And in those few seconds my mind attempted to visualize the voice, but my efforts were all in vain. It surpassed all my abilities – I was mentally crippled. Then I saw her, sitting in her tiny French-made car, waving her tiny hand to me, signaling to me where my steps should take me next. I walked towards her. And as I walked, I saw what seemed to be a smile coming from behind the wet windows of her car; a smile that was able to quickly warm the coldness that had become my companion. Weird emotions took over me and made my being shiver, but my steps remained firm.
As I approached, the door on the passenger side of the car opened, and the image behind the voice came to life. Wavy dark hair fell perfectly across her face gently brushing across her cheeks. Her black eyes met with mine, and – for a moment – I felt that the world had stopped rotating; like it had frozen in that fraction of a second in time, preserving it from becoming a memory. I had never seen such a beautiful being.
“Are you on duty?” Her voice brought me back to my senses.
“Yes.” Came my reply, my voice shaking.
“Great! I need to polish these please,” she said as she pointed at the black knee-length boots she was wearing. The smile never left her face.
“Sure.” I placed my tiny chair facing her and situated my tool box between us. She tried to adjust her position on the passenger seat but it proved difficult.
“I think it would be better if you take them off and give them to me,” I suggested. “After all, it is raining. You’d better stay inside.”
She nodded and softly unzipped her right shoe then handed it to me. I saw that her face was turning red with embarrassment, so I smiled at her to reassure her that it was something I was used to as I took the boots and began brushing them.
“This is the first time I do this,” she explained. “They got all wet and I have somewhere to be in a bit.”
My voice betrayed me, and I could not reply. So I nodded in agreement. I was still replaying the moment our eyes met in the back of my mind, my senses going wild.
“Have you been doing this a long time?” It was a typical question I got from all the people whose shoes I had shined.
“Yes,” I said without looking at her. “My father used to be a shoeshine man, and my grandfather before him.”
“And how did you end up doing this?”
“Well,” I started as my hands still worked on her boots. “My dad used to take me with him ever since I was young. He used to tell me that this is one job one can never be bored of. You get to meet new people every day; people from different backgrounds, different colors, different places, and that would enrich your experience. And I was fascinated with the work he did and the people we met along the way.
We always walked down this strip; my father was in love with the sea, and it rubbed off on me. We came here every day. We would start very early in the morning. And when I asked him, my father would tell me that there were people out there who needed us. As a child, that was enough for me as I all I wanted was to be with him, watch him as he worked. He was an amazing man. When he held me, I could feel the roughness of his hands and smell the color of dye. And it made me proud of him and want to be like him when I grew up. He was a proud man; proud of his work and did it with all the love he held inside.”
I paused and looked at her. She was still smiling; her eyes looking at me but not really seeing me. I gave her back her right boot and waited till she put it on, unzip the left one and give it to me.
“What happened next?” She curiously asked, indicating that she had been listening.
“I am only child. My father fell ill – pneumonia – and could no longer go to work,” I replied. “So I decided to take over and continue in his footsteps. He had taken good care of me, and I could not let him down. Throughout the years, I had learned all the things he knew and was able to go on with his legacy. And just as he did, I started coming here very early in the morning – every day. Unlike him, though, I used to start my day with a cup of coffee and a cigarette, and watch the sun rise from behind these mountains there. I learned a lot about people from their shoes.”
“Really?” She exclaimed.
“Sure,” I said as I handed her back her left shoe. “A person’s shoes and the way a person walks, which leaves marks on the shoe, tell a lot about their character.”
“So,” she said, as she put her shoe on. “I gather that you like what you do.”
I nodded. “It’s a part of me now, my history. It somehow defines who I am and tells the story of my roots.”
She grabbed her purse and pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to me. I reached into my pocked and pulled out the wrinkled bills I had. But as I pulled out my hand to give her back the change, she gently pushed it away smiling.
“But this is too much!” I exclaimed.
“No, it’s not.” She said, as she got out of the passenger seat and walked towards the driver’s side of the car. “Consider it my way of saying thank you.” She looked straight into my eyes, smiled as though she could see right through me, then got into the car and drove off.
The rain had stopped. I stood there, motionless, wondering if I would ever see her on this road again. My heart was pounding inside my chest and I was out of breath. I had never felt this way before, and was not sure what it was. But I knew well that those eyes will go with me wherever life may take me.
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I enjoyed this novel to a certain extent, but not as much as I enjoyed the first one. This one was a bit of a bore and it was all rather expected. Something that I personally don’t like in my novels. Even if I do enjoy the author of the series, this novel was still boring. It just seems to all run together when a novel reaches this point, and it truly did seem to with this one. Which is rather sad when it’s only the second novel in this series.
Ever since the Cicely has gotten back to town it’s been one blow after another for her. First her family is torn apart, then she finds out that Grieve is no longer the man that she once knew, and now she’s bound to Lannan. A bond that she hates with a fiery passion, but one that she willingly made. Even if it was only to save Grieve from his current fate. A fate that has only gotten increasingly worse because of Cicely herself. For now all of the Indigo Court have been reduced to their madness and bloodlust. A fate that wouldn’t have happened if Cicely hadn’t gone to Grieve. Because while Lannan was taking his blood payment from her he was also inserting a new drug into her bloodstream. An experimental drug that has the possibility of either weakening the vampiric fae or killing them. However, this drug backfires terribly. Because now all of the Indigo Court no longer have any control over their own madness. They feed at random and killed just for the sole pleasure of it. Even more so than they already did. But there is a bit of a bright side to this drug too. Because none of the vampiric fae can tolerate the sunlight even the slightest. Not even a little bit of it. An that includes Grieve himself. Except Grieve knows that he can’t control himself and in his last attempt at sanity he sends Chatter with Cicely. For if he didn’t his friend could very well end up dead. And Grieve could never forgive himself if that were to happen. But right now Cicely can’t forgive herself for what’s transpired. Because even though she didn’t know about it, it’s still her fault. Which makes her even more determined to fix it.
This novel would be considered an adult romance/urban fantasy novel. A novel that is just about the same as the first one in this series. It even had the same aspects as the first one. Right down to how the characters themselves were even portrayed. Which made this novel a bit dull in the plot department. Mostly because the plot seemed to be the exact same as the other novel as well. However, this novel did add a few new characters into the mix. And they created a flare that this novel was in desperate need of. However, when it comes down to the final recommendation I’d say that it’s a bit of a different one. For this novel is for those of us who truly do love the world that Yasmine Galenorn has created. And if you don’t like her world, than this novel certainly isn’t for you at all. Nor the series for that matter.
*Read on April 21st, 2017
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“And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life? He said unto him,
What is written in the law? how readest thou?
And he answering said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself. And he said unto him,
Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live.” Luke 10 v25-28
But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbor? And Jesus answering said,
A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves , which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on hi, and passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him. And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee. Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbor unto him that fell among thieves?
And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him,
Go, and do thou likewise.” Luke 10 v29-37
To be like Jesus. To show mercy and kindness. Time after time people, because of rooted differences from generations past treat one another with great discontent but Jesus in his travels showed the disciples how to move on from those circumstances. When he was rejected he did not take a form of retaliation nor did he encourage it. Jesus knew the difference when it came to rooted issues that led people to think they were right and what his actions would have on bringing to pass in the future what was really right. People react to actions from others many times over.
In the realm of spiritual warfare, the subtle enemy is the one that is most hard to recognize at times.
Lord, in our walk with you, we know there is an accuser of the brethren. We know he challenges all of us in ways to take up his mantra. Our discernment in today’s culture must be predicated in prayer to understand the circumstances of others in order to help them out of the situation of having their lives destroyed by the most credulous thief and robber. Help us Lord Jesus to know your way throughout this whole day. Help those that we come in contact with hear what you are saying to them in and through your spirit that lives in us this day. We give you the glory and the praise for what you are going to do. Amen
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One photograph can be the jumping off point for an authentic project. What was this? Who built it? When? Why? What happened to it? (history/research – reading)
Where was this photo taken? (geography) What clues are in the photo to help you figure this out? (botany/geology)
Design and build a model of what you think this structure was. (math) Creative writing story starter? (writing)…
Having recently flown on a Dreamliner (and that plane is a dream to fly in) I was thinking about how airplanes, especially the wings, have changed in the last few decades. Wing-tips were added, and have changed several times. Why?
I thought this might be an interesting authentic investigation and project – doing research on why airplane and airplane wings have changed. Students could design and present their ideas for improved airplanes. Older students could focus on aerodynamics and airplane wings, new building materials used for planes, etc. Younger students could focus on interior changes to the inside of planes.
*I fall into the “younger student” aka “I don’t understand aerodynamics” category! My plane is going to have wider, more comfortable seats including armrests for each passenger – in coach class! Only two seats per row on each side, so that you are not climbing over, or being climbed over when someone needs to get up. Better food, more movies, the Ice Skating Network…
Almost every curriculum has a grade level objective of writing a biography. Writing about a famous person is a great objective, as long as the student is really interested in, and has a connection to, the person they are researching. If this isn’t present, it is just another exercise where little to no learning will be internalized.
Writing biographies can easily be incorporated into an authentic project. For the group of students I worked with who did the year long State Fair Project, we had them write a biography about someone famous from their state. (Definition of “from” included – born there, lived there, worked there, retired there…) Not only did this tap into their interest about the state they “owned” for the year, it also allowed them a great deal of latitude in picking a person who really interested them. We even managed to find a subject for a young lady who was determined to research and write about a figure skater – and her state was Florida! (This was a bit of a stretch, but an Olympic Gold Medalist in figure skating from Canada had spent her later years retired in Florida – worked for us!)
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Aut cum scuto aut in scuto
Always thought the F7U was a neat looking plane and ahead of its time. A shame that it ended up a failure.
I remember reading "The Wrong Stuff" in that little bookstore in Coronado and laughing outloud as the author described crashing an early Cutlass right off the coast much to the shock and awe of the various local fish and crustaceans. It was written by John Moore and really quite funny.The Wrong Stuff: Flying on the Edge of Disaster
The engines' lack of power doomed it. The high-pressure hydraulics system gave a lot of problems, too. That enormously long nose gear was kind of weak and a hard landing could collapse it. None of the problems were unfixable, but more capable designs were in the pipeline. Changes came rapidly in those days.
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What territory did Ptolemy get after Alexander the Great died?
Ptolemy got Egypt. He founded the Ptolemaic dynasty, the last kingdom of Egypt. Cleopatra is descended from him.
No. Alexander's General Ptolemy (Ptolemy I Soter I) was a general who succeeded Alexander are ruler of Egypt in 323 BC The famous astronomer named Ptolemy was Claudius Ptolemy, a Roman citizen of Greek and Egyptian background who lived in Alexandria and wrote on many topics, including astronomy. He was born about 100 AD and died about 170 AD.
The Persian Empire did not exist after Alexander the Great died - it was his Macedonian Empire. An his death, his generals who were ruling the provinces converted them into kingdoms of their own (the Hellenistic Kingdoms), starting with Ptolemy in Egypt. Seleucus took Syria and to the east, while Asia Minor was taken by Antigonus.
What is the name of this successor of Alexander the great who founded a dynasty which lasted for almost about 300 years?
Ptolemy I Soter I (G reek: Πτολεμαῖος Σωτήρ , Ptolemy the Savior, also known as Ptolemy Lagides ) Born 367 BC and Died 283 BC. Was one of the generals of Alexander the Great. appointed Satrap ( governor) of Egypt following the death of Alexander, notcaringto take part in the power play of the successor of Alexanders place. He preferred to stabilize his position in Egypt so it was at the year 308 BC the…
In Egypt in the city of Alexandria founded by Alexander the great 2000 years ago at the time of Julius Cesar and Mark Anthony who she had affairs with. She was very intelligent and well educated and a direct descendant of one of Alexander the greats Generals Ptolemy who founded a line of Pharaohs after Alexander died
Old Persian and Armenian traditions indicate that Alexander the Great, upon seeing the great library of Ashurbanipal at Nineveh, was inspired to create his own library. Alexander died before he was able to create his library, but his friend and successor Ptolemy oversaw the beginnings of Alexander's library.
After Alexander died, his half-brother Philip III Arrhidacos assumed control of Alexander's empire, including Egypt. He was overthrown in six years and replaced by Alexander's posthumous son, another Alexander. He was murdered and his regent, Ptolemy I Soter I, one of Alexander's generals took over Egypt, establishing the Ptolemaic dynasty.
Little is known about the life of Euclid, widely known as the father of geometry. There is no record of his birth or death, only that he lived in Alexandria, modern-day Egypt, during the reign of Ptolemy I in about 300 B.C. Ptolemy I was the founder of the Ptolemaic Dynasty, a line of Greek kings who ruled Egypt after Alexander the Great died and his conquests were divided.
Cleopatra's father, Ptolemy XII, died a natural death in 51 BC. Cleopatra's father, Ptolemy XII, died a natural death in 51 BC. Cleopatra's father, Ptolemy XII, died a natural death in 51 BC. Cleopatra's father, Ptolemy XII, died a natural death in 51 BC. Cleopatra's father, Ptolemy XII, died a natural death in 51 BC. Cleopatra's father, Ptolemy XII, died a natural death in 51 BC. Cleopatra's father, Ptolemy XII, died a natural death in…
Alexander the Great conquered the Persian Empire and ruled it. When he died, he left no clear heir and his generals divided it amongst themselves, turning these provinces into kingdoms of their own (we today call them the Hellenistic Kingdoms). One of these Macedonian generals was Ptolemy who was Alexander's governor of Egypt, who eventually declared himself King of Egypt and also took on the traditional Egyptian title of Pharaoh. The generals set about fighting…
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What is dyslexia? That is what I asked myself thirteen years ago when I had not even heard of the word, but I was searching for a reason why my daughter presented so many “quirks.” Here is the definition from the International Dyslexia Association: “Dyslexia is a specific learning disability that is neurobiological in origin. It is characterized by difficulties with accurate and/or fluent word recognition and by poor spelling and decoding abilities. These difficulties typically result from a deficit in the phonological component of language that is often unexpected in relation to other cognitive abilities and the provision of effective classroom instruction. Secondary consequences may include problems in reading comprehension and reduced reading experience that can impede growth of vocabulary and background knowledge.”
I knew very early on that my daughter was going to have trouble in school. You see, she didn’t start talking until she was three years old and even then her vocabulary was limited to about fifteen words. The children at daycare would always tell the teacher what she wanted. Somehow they understood her, and although I found it amazing and very sweet, I was worried. I sent her to daycare just three days a week for socialization because I thought maybe her speech would improve if she was in a school like environment. It was a great place but very expensive, and unfortunately her speech did not improve.
Everyone around me said, “Don’t worry about it, she’s just maturing slower”. I knew in my gut that this was not the case and set out on a discovery solo. I didn’t really have a support system until I enrolled in a Home Instruction Program for Preschool Youngsters. We lived in a rural community, and there was no preschool in our area. My instructor came every week and noticed my daughter was behind her peers and wasn’t keeping up on the work the instructor assigned, so she tested her. Sure enough, she was behind in almost every subject but scored the highest in the county on building and shapes, so we set about getting her evaluated by a speech and language pathologist. No one told me that language delay was a symptom of dyslexia. According to Decoding Dyslexia Arkansas, The National Health Service, and Dr Sally Shaywitz the following is a comprehensive list of preschool warning signs:
- Delayed speech
- Mixing up sounds and syllables in long words
- Constant confusion of left versus right
- Late establishing dominant hand
- Difficulty learning to tie shoes
- Trouble memorizing his/her address, phone number, or alphabet
- A close relative with dyslexia
- Trouble learning common nursery rhymes, such as “Jack and Jill”
- Difficulty learning and remembering in the alphabet
- Seems unable to recognize letters in his/her own name
- Mispronounces familiar words; persistent “baby talk”
- Doesn’t recognize rhyming patterns such as cat, bat, rat
Shaywitz, Sally. Overcoming Dyslexia. New York: Knopf, 2003. 122.
However, my daughter was also a mechanical genius. At the age of three, she knew all the tools my husband needed to work on the car. Our neighbour was absolutely astounded when he was working on his car, and she would hand him the right size bolt when there were many choices. She had her photographs published in the local newspaper, and her art was exceptional for someone her age. (She later became a very talented artist.) She had all these deficits but had some amazing talents as well.
After a year of delay and incompetence in the “system,” I had her tested, and the diagnosis was expressive and receptive language disorder. I knew something other than speech was wrong, so Iwent to Arkansas Children’s Hospital for a diagnosis. Her IQ was in the normal range for verbal communication, but in the superior range in the nonverbal category. They diagnosed her with expressive language disorder and suggested speech therapy. My Home Instruction Program for Preschool Youngsters instructor helped again and informed me that the State of Arkansas should pay for it. There were programs available. By that time, my daughter was four years old, and I had been searching for answers for a year, but to tell the truth, I already knew she was different when she was 18 months old and not babbling. She was silent. I became her translator, and it created a bond that still holds to this day. I was her voice.
Fortunately I discovered Online Reading Tutor when my daughter was in grade 6. After eight months of tutoring, our daughter was reading at grade level. She is now in grade 10 and on the honour roll in high school.
~ This blog has been written by dyslexia advocate Nancy Colburn, of Arkansas.
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Who is grandfather of criminal?
Paternally, Abraham was his great-grandfather, Isaac was his grandfather and Jacob was the father of Joseph, as recorded in the book of Genesis. Sarah was his great-grandmother, Rebecca was his grandmother and Rachel was his mother. Laban was his maternal grandfather. Bethuel was his maternal great-grandfather.
your grandfather is the relative which is described - a) (If I am a female) your grandfather is my father's son, therefore I am your grandaunt (your grandfather is my brother) - b) (If I am a male) your grandfather is my father's son, therefore I am your granduncle (your grandfather is my brother) - c) (but if I am a sole son/daughter) I am your grandfather/grandmother
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From Best Selling author R.C. Stephens, comes a poignant, emotional story about the power of first love and the promise of second chances .
Title: Where Promises Die
Author: R.C. Stephens
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 20, 2017
Haunted by a childhood trauma that leaves her orphaned, eleven-year-old Grace finds herself on the doorstep of the Duncans, her new adoptive family, broken and unable to speak. Catapulted from a bustling New York City life, she must find a way to call the rural town of Sade, Iowa her new home. Twins Eisav and Jacob Duncan immediately take a liking to Grace, wanting to erase the dark shadows etched on her perfect features.
As the twins vie for her affection, it becomes clear which one makes her smile.
Grace never has a choice for falling in love.
What starts as a way to coax his adopted sister to speak and smile, blossoms into the kind of love that lasts a lifetime.
In this small town it shouldn’t be a crime to fall in love . . .
Isaac Duncan warns his son to stay away from the forbidden fruit. Eisav never listens.
Now an intricate web of lies and secrets stand in the way of Eisav winning back the only woman he has ever loved.
In a place where yesterday’s promises were broken, Eisav must learn what it truly means to love and cherish . . .
But is he too late?
Eisav rode up on his bike, clearly out of breath, and immediately acknowledged Gracie’s defensive stance. His brother had placed his hand on her shoulder as Eisav was riding up, and he wanted an explanation before he knocked his lights out. Eisav had never been known to rein in his temper so without waiting for a response, he threw his bike abruptly to the ground and stomped over to Grace and Jacob.
“What’s going on?” He furrowed his dark brows while his voice barked, shooting Jacob an icy glare. Grace turned her head down to the pavement and kicked at some small rocks nervously. With no response from Jacob or Grace, he took a few more steps closing the distance between himself and his twin. “Don’t ever touch her again,” he snapped. It was a simple ‘Grace was his period’ kind of statement.
“That’s a little presumptuous of you, Brother, don’t you think?” A slow, sly smile curved on Jacobs lips. Eisav was used to Jacob’s goading. He had a hot switch and his brother loved pushing it.
“Don’t goad me, Brother. What the hell are you two doing out here this late at night anyway?” Eisav asked through ragged breaths. It was taking everything in him not to floor Jacob right now. If it weren’t for Grace’s close proximity, he would clock his brother for sure. His gaze drifted to Grace while he waited for a response, only she refused to look him in the eye. He knew something was terribly wrong.
“That’s none of your business,” Jacob responded coolly, clenching his jaw. “Who gave you the right to be territorial over Grace anyway? She’s a member of the family. I have every right to spend time with her.”
“Don’t push me, Brother.” Eisav lifted a finger close to his brother’s face. He was taller and built stronger.
Jacob didn’t back away from the warning. “What are you going to do, Eisav? Hit me? Father will come out here, and we know who’ll get into trouble,” Jacob chided with a condescending tone.
Grace wrapped her arms around her waist. Eisav knew that she hated to see them fight.
“Fuck you, Jacob. If I ever see you touch Grace again … I’ll destroy you myself,” Eisav warned with brutal honesty in his words.
Grace stood quietly off to the side.
Jacob lifted his palms in the air in surrender but then spread his fingers and twiddled them, showing he was not scared of Eisav. “I will not give into your primitive ways tonight. At least not in front of Grace. The girl simply deserves better,” Jacob said, gazing at Grace briefly with a soft smile before walking away. His smirk told Eisav that he felt like he had won this round. “Have a good evening, Grace,” Jacob muttered before pulling the door to the house open and disappearing inside.
Grace remained rooted in her spot. She was clearly expecting an explanation from Eisav. It irked him that she wouldn’t look at him. At thirteen, her auburn hair had grown thick and long in slight waves. She was tall and slender, her skin a pale, milky color, her eyes resembling the forest at night. He sensed the tumult in her glare and a sudden wave of nausea washed over him when he figured out why she wouldn’t look at him. He knew it was only a matter of time before she figured out where he had been running off. His demeanor softened. He felt terrible, even ashamed, but he was also a fifteen-year-old boy with raging hormones. Grace was simply not ready for certain things. She was too young, too pure. If he were being honest with himself, then he would have admitted the real reason he left most evenings was because he wanted something he couldn’t have.
Instead, he chose to fill his nights lip-locked with slutty girls whose names he couldn’t remember by morning. It seemed easier than spending valuable time with Grace while they sat next to each other, talking, playing cards, and singing in such close proximity that he just had to lean forward and take a taste of what he assumed would be the sweetest lips ever. There was only so much resolve he had, and so he worked out his frustrations during the week while spending weekends enjoying her company. He thought it was a win-win situation … until now.
R.C. Stephens was born in Toronto, Canada. She graduated from York University with a Master’s Degree in Political Science.
Her debut Novel Bitter Sweet Love is book one of the Twisted Series. Followed by Twisted Love to be released May 31st 2015.
R.C. is an avid reader, so when she isn’t cooking for her clan or on her laptop writing, she’s snuggled tight with her Kindle devouring any romance novel she can. Okay, with the exception of Thursday nights. She makes time for Scandal and Vampire Diaries. She’s a fan of drama and suspense but she’s also a sucker for a happy ending.
Her husband was her first teenage love. They live together with their three children in Toronto. Loving Canadian winters she could never think of living anywhere else.
Please check back often for updates and the latest news!
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Uninvited Guest coursework
The wind was howling as I shut the window of the hut I was living in. “Poof” I said “lucky the hut didn’t fall off”. I was scared and hungry. My mother and father had gone to sell the meager amount of crops we had managed to ravage from the storm three weeks ago. Last week the storm had subsided down to a slight breeze allowing my parents to grasp the opportunity and go to sell the harvest. Our hut was located 5miles south of a small town and my parents had to go 55miles to get to the market which sold meat and bought vegetables. We needed the meat for the upcoming winter.Order now
I got to my feet and surveyed the damage the storm had done to hut. Luckily most of the furniture was intact and only a couple of chairs had broken. I went down to my cellar to get some pork slices to eat. My 2 horses and 1 chicken were there. We had a pig but it had perished in the storm. We had temporarily moved them to the cellar because they would have surely been victims to the gale if we had left them outside. As I sat down at the table to eat I heard a reverberation near the door. Thinking it was thieves I quickly stashed my plate drew my pocketknife and hid behind the sofa.
Suddenly there was a loud bang and the door fell apart like it had been made of wet wood. Then something stepped inside and my heart skipped a beat. It was humanoid with a bloody red cape billowing due to the wind. It was two meters tall. Its toes were laden with worms and dirt. But the worst was its face. It had three green eyes with two forked teeth and blood dripping from it. Its face was pale white and had some terrible sheen about it. Its hand held something which was smoking. It was my worst nightmare coming to haunt me.
I held my breath as the creature surveyed the room and its contents. For a second I thought it had spotted me. It turned its drooling nose towards the sofa but after a couple of minutes turned its head away and walked towards the kitchen. As he walked away I remembered terrible things. This huts first owner (Im the second) had disappeared and terrible stories revolved around it. My family could not afford any other hut so we moved here despite the warnings.
I woke back to the surroundings and saw the creature fiddling with the kitchen sink. It was always a problem. Water used to never come out. He or she took a small instrument and placed it in a small hole near the sink and lo! The sink had turned into some sort of slide. The creature stepped in and vanished in the depths of the slide.
I was stuck with my biggest dilemma. Should I follow it or should I try calling the police? Then I thought I don’t have the phone, the nearest phone was near the town and which policeman would listen to some kid raving about some monsters. So I gathered my courage and stepped into the slide.
I had never gone so fast in my life. The tunnel walls passed like blur as I slid down the tunnel. I was thrown down a small tunnel. I stood up and walked for around 15minutes.I entered a large room filled with lava and small pathways leading to a small console. I ducked as the creature turned from the console.
My heart was beating fast. I saw another pathway leading to some small cave and I ducked inside. As I entered the cave I got the shock of my life. The missing scientist (1st owner) was tied on gagged there. He looked so feeble and underfed. He turned his head towards me and said “Who are you?” I said “My name is Bharath; my dad owns the house on the top. What in the devils going on here?” The scientist said “These monsters imprisoned me here. They are from a different planet. We don’t know from where”. Awed I asked “Why are they here?” “We believe that their home planet is filled with lava but it’s started to cool down. These creatures built this console to blast open the rock and fill the earth with lava. They can’t live without it”. “But how is this alien surviving”. “It has a live support system with it. It’s very rare and they can’t give it to all their species. You have to blast that console if we have any chance of surviving”. “How?” I asked. “There are some thermal detonators in the back end of the wall. Use it and plug it on the wall of the console”.
I got up and untied the man’s bonds but he was too feeble to move. “Go” he murmured. I got up and moved stealthily towards the console just as I reached the end of the console. I saw the creature pass by and hid for 5 minutes letting it pass by. After I was sure it left I got up and started plugging in the console. I was to busy to notice 2 big shadows looming over me. I felt a tug on my back and was lifted helplessly by one of the creatures. “There are two of them” I thought scared as the creature picked me up. Just as the other creature took aim with its gun (Alien sort of gun) there was a dull thud and the creature fell into the lava. Behind the creature was the scientist with a club. “Go fast ill buy u some time” he said. Stunned I ran towards the console and was just setting the timer when I noticed things were going wrong.
The scientist had the club but the creature was dodging it and with a powerful punch hit the scientist and like a ragged doll fell in the burning pits of the lava. “No” I screamed. Anger coursed through me and hatred filled my whole body. “Hey you stupid beast over here” I screamed. It turned its head towards me and like a bull picked up the club and charged. Just as it was on top of me I dived to the side and nearly missed falling into the lava. The creature banged its head on the console as it missed me. Just as it turned its head I noticed the deceased creature’s gun fallen on the dirt. I dived picked it up and fired. The creature dodged the first 2 shots but on the third one he wasn’t so lucky. The bolt hit his shoulder and with a terrible shriek which pierced my ears it fell into the lava.
I got up feeling elated and started working on the detonators. As I started working I noticed a green tracking blip. It was a signal device. I realized once I blast this console the other aliens cannot enter. I set the device for three hours and started the arduous journey upward.
After two hours I reached the top. It was cool and pleasant after the scorching lava pits. I started arranging the house and just as I decided to tell the broken furniture were due to the storm there was a huge rumble under my house. I knew the console must have been destroyed.
As the evening neared I saw my parents and with a bigger load of meat with them. Elated I ran towards my parents happy to be with them again. They told me that this year’s harvest was worth much more due to the storms and they even had spare coins for me to by some new clothes. As we walked towards the house I remembered the scientists sacrifice to save the world and looked up at the clouds. I thought I saw a shape of the scientist face smiling at me…
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Retreat Grade 10
Focusing too much on our daily activities and routines can be one of the factors that “loosen” our relationship with God. The frenzy state and exhaustion of doing all the responsibilities usually cause us to be less sensitive toward God’s calling; what He tells and wants from us. That was why the 10th graders were invited to pause from their busy days and enjoy their moments with God through the retreat activity that they could get to be more sensitive toward their lives. It was also in line with this academic year’s school theme – Truly Yours – which emphasizes on how each one of us who belong to God ought to continually know Him through our personal relationship with Him, as well as the Graduate Profile No. 1 stating, “Have a growing relationship with the triune God through Jesus Christ.”
The retreat of grade 10 2018 was held for three days, beginning on the 3rd until 5th of September at Panti Samadi Kesusteran, Malino, South Sulawesi. In general, all of the 126 grade ten students were invited to get closer with God through a series of Bible exposition, praise and worship as well as a moment of sin confession. During the Bible exposition and discussion, it was observed that most of the students listened thoroughly and actively participated in it. The same went for the praise and worship session, in which almost all of them looked enjoying the moment when they praised and worshipped the Lord. Based on these positive responses, it could then be concluded that this year’s retreat’s targets had been achieved. To God be the glory.
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I’ve already introduced some hackers on this blog who defied pop-culture stereotypes of blinkered nerddom with a remarkable range of interests and activities outside of computers. Marc Blank, for example, managed to finish medical school while moonlighting with MIT’s Dynamic Modeling Group, where he learned enough to become the most important technical architect behind Infocom’s technology. Andrew Greenberg of Wizardry fame went on to become a lawyer, and now “hacks the law with glee.” In its essence the attraction of hacking is the joy of coming to understand a complex, dynamic, semi-autonomous system, and then bending it to your will. Plenty else in the modern world beyond computers offers some of the same experience, medicine and law perhaps not least among them. Not to mention, to choose an obvious parallel for this blog, games.
The fellow I want to introduce you to today, Doug Carlston, had a background at least as eclectic as anyone I’ve mentioned earlier. Born in 1947 as the son of a Harvard-educated theologian, Doug by the time he was 30 already had a dizzying resume to his name: a Bachelor’s in social psychology from Harvard, studies in international economics at Johns Hopkins, and a law degree from Harvard Law School. In addition to his studies, he had also run a business designing and building houses; spent a year teaching in Botswana; written an introductory textbook on Swahili; written other language guides for American Express. But by 1977 Doug, two years out of law school, was bored, stuck with an uninteresting job with a huge law firm on the 82nd floor of Chicago’s Sears Tower. As a junior lawyer, he got “the kind of work nobody else wants to do,” like conducting client surveys and doing wills and trusts. Feeling “fat and slow” in addition to bored, he packed up and moved to a small town in Maine with a view to getting back to nature. There he set up an independent law practice serving the locals. That proved to chiefly mean defending clients who ran afoul of the stiff local hunting ordinances. Trouble was, virtually all of his clients were clearly guilty, and many never bothered to pay him for his services, making the practice both uninteresting and not terribly lucrative. To help with the latter problem, Doug began to dabble once again in housebuilding in addition to the law. Helping with the former was the TRS-80 he’d bought, ostensibly to help with bookkeeping at the office. Now, however, he just couldn’t stop playing with it.
The TRS-80 was far from Doug’s first exposure to computing. In fact, computing was yet another of those myriad of interests and activities that had marked his life to that point. He had been introduced to computers as early as 1964, when he attended a sort of summer camp for gifted teenagers who might be interested in becoming engineers. There he first dabbled in FORTRAN programming, finding it fascinating. When he went off to Harvard, he found a job there as a “programming assistant,” basically a tutor to help other students bend the machines to their will. When the time came to lock up the computer lab for the day, Doug and his buddies would stuff chewing gum into the locks so that they could sneak back in in the middle of the night and hack. Still, by the time he bought his TRS-80 in 1978 those days were many years in the past.
The TRS-80 served to reignite the old passion. Doug did use it to code programs useful to his practice, but he also embarked on an ambitious game, which he called Galactic Empire. It’s a work of considerable historical importance in its own right, quite apart from its place in Doug’s career. It was, you see, the first recognizable example of a “4X” (“explore, expand, exploit, exterminate”) grand strategy game to appear on a PC, the ancestor of such seminal later titles as Civilization and Master of Orion. The player begins Galactic Empire with a single medium-sized planet and a fleet of 200 ships. From this starting point she is expected to conquer the 19 other worlds of the game’s galaxy. Along the way she must manage each conquered planet’s economy, juggling taxes and population, in order to build more ships for her fleet. As you would expect of a game written in BASIC on a 16 K TRS-80, Galactic Empire is absurdly stripped down and primitive in comparison to its successors. Yet the core attributes — and the vision — are there.
What happened next will be familiar to anyone who read my earlier articles about other pioneers of the early software industry. Doug came up with some packaging and began selling his game directly to local computer stores, as well as through outlets for semi-professional software like SoftSide magazine’s TRS-80 Software Exchange and a similar organ run by Creative Computing. When Scott Adams started Adventure International, he signed up there as well. (Occupying a weird ground somewhere between software publisher and catalog merchant, AI did not demand an exclusive license to the software they “published.”) Meanwhile he made a second game, Galactic Trader, which replaced military with economic conquest. By the end of 1979, the two games together were bringing in about $1000 per month.
That $1000 was very welcome, because otherwise the bottom was falling out for Doug financially. The second oil crisis precipitated by the Iranian Revolution had seriously damaged the economy, and Doug could no longer sell his houses. Meanwhile it was becoming increasingly clear that his country law practice was not sustainable on its own, at least not in this economy. Barely two years after coming to Maine, he decided to cut his losses and move on, yet again, to something else. With no clear plan as yet what that something would be, he piled into his old Chevy Impala along with his 220-pound mastiff (in the front seat) and his computer (in the back) to visit his little brother in Eugene, Oregon. The car started to die in eastern Oregon. Doug:
Something went out with the transmission. It started throwing out smoke. Fortunately, by the time I got into western Oregon it was mostly downhill to Eugene because I had the windows rolled down so we could breathe because the smoke was coming up through the transmission. I couldn’t go more than 15 miles an hour and the windshield wipers wouldn’t work and it was a blizzard outside. I was out there kind of working the wipers by hand going downhill. Finally, we got down into Pendleton, which was just a lot lower than Walla Walla, and we could see again. We made it to about five miles from Eugene when the car finally gave up and my brother came and got me.
Said brother, Gary Carlston, had also made an interesting life of it so far. Like Doug, Gary had gone to Harvard, where he had planned, largely on a whim, to major in Celtic Studies. However, that program was full. On the same floor were the offices for Scandinavian Studies. He knew that the Carlston family had originally come to the United States from Sweden, and like his brother he was fascinated by languages, so what the hell… six years later, he had a Master’s in Scandinavian Languages and Literature. In the midst of that, Gary decided to spend one summer holiday in, appropriately enough, Sweden. An accomplished basketball player and coach, he got into a pick-up game with some locals there. One thing led to another, and Gary found himself returning the following year for a gig that was, in Steven Levy’s words, “so desirable that grown men gasped when he mentioned it”: coaching a Swedish women’s basketball team. Gary himself would later say, “Most girls in Sweden don’t look like the tall model type you’d expect.” Pause… wait for it. “This team did, though.” Whatever its perks, he proved to be good at the fundamentals of his job, leading the team to three championships and two runners-up in five years.
With Harvard and basketball behind him, Gary was faced with making a living in the real world. He briefly taught Swedish in a summer program, but the language was hardly in huge demand in the United States. He worked for a year as a director of the March of Dimes charity in Eugene, but he hated it, and finally quit. That was in the summer of 1979. When brother Doug arrived for his visit, Gary had already spent six months fruitlessly looking for another permanent job while trying to bring in a little something selling reflectors to the parents of schoolchildren.
So, the two brothers, both completely broke, compared and contrasted their misfortune and wondered what the hell to do next. Then Doug, remembering the one thing that had been going pretty well for him lately, suggested that they start a real software publisher to sell his games instead of relying on the semi-professional distribution networks. The very non-computer-literate Gary allegedly replied, “What’s software?” He took some convincing, but, with no other prospects on the horizon, finally agreed. Brøderbund Software was officially founded on February 25, 1980, with $7000 the brothers were able to scrounge from their last savings and their family. As Doug later told Forbes magazine, the company was born at that place and moment only “because I was stuck without a car and didn’t have the money to buy a new one.”
The name “Brøderbund” itself is of course an odd one that would never pass muster with a corporate public-relations department today. It actually first appears in Doug’s very first game, Galactic Empire, where it’s the name of one of the warring factions. “Brøderbund” is a compound noun that is vaguely recognizable to speakers of a number of languages, but isn’t quite correct in any of them. In Danish and Norwegian, the word “brødre” is the plural of “bror,” which means “brother.” (The “ø” is a special vowel found only in Danish and Norwegian; it’s pronounced like the German “ö,” and, also like “ö,” is often used in plural forms of nouns.) It’s probably acceptable to change it to “brøder” in a compound word, to make pronunciation easier. However, the second part of the name, “bund,” is in no sense correct. The intended meaning is obviously the German “Bund,” meaning a bond or union. Yet in Danish or Norwegian the correct word would be “forbund”; “bund” alone means a ground or base, obviously not the intended meaning. So, what we have here is a mash-up of Danish and German — or an example of a sort of pidgin Danish, if you prefer.
Which is not to say that the Carlston brothers didn’t know exactly what they were doing in creating the name. Both were fascinated by languages, and enjoyed this sort of linguistic play. They chose to use the Danish and Norwegian word for “brother” in place of Gary’s more familiar Swedish because Swedish uses German-style umlauts; thus the word would have become “bröder.” The problem with “bröder” was that the “ö” would be impossible to represent on computer screens of the time. The “ø,” however, could be represented by simply typing a zero; then as (sometimes) now, computer displays used the slash to easily distinguish “0” from “o.” This also made the name a clever play on computer technology itself. Even in their professional copy, where the proper character would presumably have been available, the company would often write “Brøderbund” as “Br0derbund” to reinforce the computer connection. As for pronunciation… let’s not even get into that. Suffice to say that everyone just said the name as “Broderbund,” although that’s not correct if we insist on reading it as a Scandinavian word.
Linguistic issues aside, Brøderbund was not a stunning success in its early months. They did have three games to sell, in the form of Doug’s Galactic trilogy. (He had recently completed a third and final game in the series.) Yet, with Softsel yet to be founded, software distribution to retail was in a confused and uncertain state, and neither brother was naturally suited to cold-calling stores to try to sell them on their products. May of 1980 was the low point; it seems incredible, but Doug claims that sales for that entire month were exactly $0.00. Then two things happened that would begin to turn the company around.
At the very first trade show at which they exhibited, the West Coast Computer Faire of March 1980, the Carlstons had made the acquantence of the Japanese software company Starcraft. In June, they got a call from them. As I mentioned in a recent post, Starcraft would later make a big name for itself within Japan by porting and translating Western games for the domestic market. At this point, however, they were reaching out to the West with a view to moving software in the other direction. They had coded several solid action games for the Apple II. Now they were looking for an American partner to sell them for them. This was a huge break, not only because the flashier Starcraft titles diversified Brøderbund’s portfolio greatly when contrasted with Doug’s more cerebral text-oriented strategy games, but also because these games ran on the Apple II, already a much more vibrant and healthy software platform than the Radio Shack-strangled TRS-80. From this point forward, Brøderbund would also switch their emphasis to the Apple II, porting the Galactic trilogy over and developing most of their new software for that platform first.
Shortly after the Starcraft deal was made, Gary got a call from his beloved old basketball colleagues from Sweden, saying they were coming to San Francisco and wanted to meet him there. When he told them that he didn’t have the money to come, they said they could pay for half of the trip — for a one-way ticket from Eugene to San Francisco. The brothers hatched a plan: Gary would fill his suitcase with software, then visit every computer store he could find in the Bay area, attempting to sell the stuff to them personally and hopefully earn enough to get home again. It worked beautifully; he sold almost $2000 worth of software. In the absence of a proper distribution network, the way forward was now clear: they must visit stores personally to sell the owners on their games. At the end of July, Doug took off on a zigzagging road trip to Boston and back, and sold some $15,000 worth of games on the way.
Still, it was a fairly time-consuming and expensive way of moving product, and times remained tight. Doug:
We were going weeks where we only ate on three days; things were that tight. We had used up all my savings from being an attorney and were maxed out on my credit card. My parents didn’t have any money. [In] October my mother lent us $2000 that she had inherited and her sister also lent us $2000.
Then, near the end of the year, Starcraft gave them a goldmine in the form of Apple Galaxian, a perfect clone of a new hit arcade game from another Japanese company, Namco. Soon enough people would be getting sued over far less blatant copying, but it was, ironically given the company’s later reputation for integrity and innovation, this unabashed arcade ripoff that really established Brøderbund as a major player in the software industry. Doug claims today to have not even been aware at first that it was a facsimile of someone else’s game, as the game had just recently been introduced to North American arcades.
Critically, it was at just this point that Softsel, the first proper software distributor, arrived on the scene, making it much easier for Brøderbund and other companies to get their products into stores around the country without the necessity for personal meet-and-greets. Bob Leff of Softsel played a key, and very personal, role in Apple Galaxian‘s success. Doug:
When I sent him a copy of this new game, he said, “We love it, and I want 5000 copies right away.” And I told him, “I’d love to do it, but I don’t have 5000 disks, and I don’t have enough money to buy 5000 disks.” He said, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll lend you the money. You buy the disks and I’ll lend you the money as long as you send them all to me.” I said okay. And he sold everything within a month.
Brøderbund’s sales went from $10,000 in November of 1980 to $55,000 in December, all on the strength of Apple Galaxian. In fact, their sales for December amounted to more than those for the entire rest of the year. Apple Galaxian topped the Softalk magazine chart as the bestselling Apple II program in the country for three months. (Yes, it even outsold VisiCalc during that period.) With both Namco and, oddly, Apple themselves beginning to make legal rumbles, Brøderbund changed the name to Alien Rain in the spring of 1981, and it continued a bestseller for quite some months under its new moniker.
On the back of Apple Galaxian/Alien Rain, the Carlstons could begin to hire some employees and make bigger, more ambitious deals with a growing stable of outside developers. They brought in their younger sister Cathy, who had been unhappy in her job as a retail buyer for Lord and Taylor, to take the role of office manager. And they branched out into productivity software, for which they would soon become more famous than they were for their games. Bank Street Writer, an innovative word processor, was a particular hit, as was the first really complete payroll package to be released for PCs. In the summer of 1981, they left Eugene, which they felt was just too isolated and small to be conducive to their business and which had a horrible problem with fog that sometimes shut down the airport for a week or more at a time, for San Rafael, California, a town in the vicinity of San Francisco that was most famous for being the home of George Lucas and his production company Lucasfilm. In typically unpretentious fashion, they effected the move by renting three U-Haul trucks, packing everything up, and driving the lot down themselves.
You’ll have a hard time finding anyone who knew or worked with the Carlstons with much bad to say about them. For years the siblings each took a regular shift on Brøderbund’s production line, by all indications not as a gimmick but out of a real, heartfelt desire to demonstrate “the dignity in all of the work” at the company, and to have a chance to bond and really talk with their employees. Indeed, they found themselves caring more for their employees than any business guide would recommend, sometimes giving them a second chance even after they were caught stealing. Doug: “It turns out that Gary was the only person who could fire people — which is a valuable skill. He didn’t like it but he was able to do it.” Doug also demonstrated what would seem a hopelessly naive attitude toward his direct competitors. He called them all the “brotherhood,” and even wrote a book in 1985 (the long out-of-print Software People) to sing their praises. Somehow he and his siblings got rich in the cutthroat world of capitalism in the most subversive way imaginable: by just being really nice and fair to everyone, and never losing their idealism about the software they produced. Or anyway, that was most of it. As a story I’m about to retell will illustrate, there was a certain competitive edge to be found under their more cuddly qualities.
Everyone liked the Carlstons, but Brøderbund forged a special bond with On-Line Systems. Although the religious Carlston clan did not share the Williams’ taste for partying, the two companies were otherwise remarkably similar. Both were founded at almost the same time; both focused their early efforts on the Apple II; both enjoyed a relaxed internal culture unconcerned with rank or title; both published a diverse array of software, mostly from outside programmers, rather than specializing like, say, Infocom; both were headed by erstwhile hackers who found less and less time to write code as their businesses grew; both shared the conviction that they were doing something that really mattered for the future; both would ultimately prove to be long-term survivors and winners in a brutal industry, outliving virtually all of their other peers. Especially after making the move to San Rafael, the Williams and the Carlstons saw quite a lot of one another, and shared more trade secrets than any MBA would recommend.
The Carlstons were naturally all invited on that On-Line-sponsored, era-defining whitewater-rafting trip in the summer of 1981. One evening on that trip Doug and Ken Williams seriously discussed merging their two companies, but ultimately decided that it wouldn’t make sense. Normally a company merges with another to get something it lacks, but their two companies were so similar that it was hard to see what that something could be, in the case of either — not to mention the stress of sorting out locations, products lines, management structures, etc. Most of all, it became pretty clear that neither Ken nor Doug was very interested in giving up any control of the company he had founded. Instead they would continue as unusually friendly competitors for more than 15 years.
Another incident from the trip shows why that may have been for the best. While drifting down the river, the group came to a spot where “the water was deep and smooth, and cliffs rose up above the river banks.” Ken shouted to stop the boats, so he and whoever else wanted to could climb up to the cliffs and dive off. Quite a large number, including Roberta and Doug and his sister Cathy, who had swum competitively, decided to join him. At the top, however, Ken got cold feet, even as others were taking the plunge. He begged Doug to go back down with him and Roberta, so they wouldn’t have to be the only chickens in the group. Doug said no, and, to encourage him, suggested that they all four hold hands and jump off together. Ken agreed, they joined hands and ran toward the edge — but Ken balked again. In the end he and Roberta climbed back down in shame, while Doug and Cathy made the leap. “I pushed myself a little further than I was ready to handle,” Ken said. They were all friends, Doug later wrote, “but we all like to win, and if the other falters, we aren’t likely to wait too long for him to catch up.” In his own quiet way Doug was as driven to win as the blustery Ken — or, as demonstrated by that moment on the top of the cliff, perhaps more so.
Brøderbund may have been having more and more success with their productivity software, but they were hardly ready to abandon games. Indeed, their action games were amongst the most popular and highly regarded on the Apple II. We’ll look at a particularly important title in their stable, released just about a year after the rafting adventure, next time.
(The early history of Brøderbund has been very well documented. The most useful sources for this article were: Steven Levy’s Hackers; Doug Carlston’s own Software People (out of print); the lengthy interview Doug Carlston conducted with The Computer History Museum in 2004; and a profile of the company in the September 1984 Creative Computing.)
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FATHER CHRISTMAS AT HOME
ing about letting down toys from the loft, packing them, labelling them to places far and wide; loading them on huge vans which came rumbling in and out of the courtyard with cracking of whips, and parting shouts of " Good luck ! "
Superintending the arrangements, walking to and fro, was the very ancient man. He was so alert, and always on the spot where wanted, yet Eva was thinking his age must at least be two hundred, when Father Christmas said kindly: " My dear, this is my father—he is known as Father Time, and you have known him without having really met him face to face before."
" I didn't recognise him, and I didn't know he was your father, sir," she whispered.
" Why, yes. Don't you know that my full name is Christmas Time ?"
" Of course it is," she exclaimed with a laugh.
The next visit was through a covered way to the printing works—where the mottoes and " directions" for toys and Father Christmas's visiting cards were printed. These cards were all different in design, and each was a beautiful picture stamped with his name, and his own motto, " Peace and Goodwill."
Behind was the sweet factory, with its tempting packets and muslin stockings of all sizes full of sugar-plums. But, as Father Time appeared,
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Born to Italian parents, Aldo Luongo was raised in Argentina. He recalls, "From the day I was born everyone seemed to have an idea of what I should be. My father wanted me to be a businessman and professional soccer player, same as he. My mother wanted me to become a concert pianist, and my favorite uncle wanted me to become a painter. Funny how life unfolds."
While growing up Luongo was exposed to several of the arts including painting and playing the piano. However, his true love was playing soccer. In fact, after graduating from the Academy of Fine Art in Buenos Aires, he played professional soccer for the New York Generals. A few relocations, injuries, and a stint as a jewelry designer later, Luongo completed the circle by returning to painting.
From his acrylics to his fine art prints, Luongo's pieces embody a sense of fluidity and intensity; the results of a true artist engaged in a passionate process of creation. Whether he is portraying a romantic enclave, a frenzied sporting event, or a richly textured landscape, central to all of Luongo's paintings is the balance between memory and hope, sorrow and humor, freedom and control.
These dynamics are clearly seen in his figurative works, especially those portraying "The Hawk," his archetypal character spun from the memory of his father and his discovery of his future self. It is the most enduring single image in the paintings of Luongo. The Hawk is a character that has evolved throughout Luongo's career and is his single most meaningful symbol.
Originally, the Hawk was an homage to the artist's father, Rafael Celestino Luongo, who passed away in the early 70's. Out of this tragic loss was born a new creation. While contemplating his father, the artist realized that in many ways he was the ideal man. A figure that appealed to both men and women, who possessed a personality of charm, charisma, and grace; Rafael epitomized Luongo's conception of the quintessential man. Thus The Hawk was born.
Though never meant to resemble Luongo's father physically, the Hawk personifies his spirit. He represents the appreciation of quality, the hunger of life, and living it to the fullest. He is virile and wise, often surrounded by friends. His essence is captured in the knowing sparkle of his gaze. Originally, the Hawk was merely a personal project. However, while picking up paintings from the studio, a deliveryman mistakenly included the first Hawk portrait in the group. Before Luongo noticed it missing, it was sold.
As he created further Hawk paintings, the concept began to evolve. Instead of the future his father might have had, the Hawk became the future Luongo would like to live. The Hawk came to embody Luongo's ideals, his notion of the good life. He began to portray him in a variety of moods: the somber, the reflective, and the exuberant. Throughout it all, the secret lay in his eyes. People respond so positively to the Hawk that Luongo has had numerous requests for commissions from people who would like their portraits painted with the Hawk.
The Hawk, as described by Luongo, has only 10 or 15 minutes left on the clock of life, "but he's living life to the fullest and going out in style. I want to be like him in my twilight years." Wouldn't most of us? Luongo's paintings are thus an amalgam of moods, tones, and explorations, of times remembered and days to come. Each of Luongo's paintings captures more than just the viewer's gaze, they echo the emotions and experiences of a life lived to the fullest.
Ocean Galleries was very honored to host a show of Aldo Luongo's pieces in 2000 and again in 2017.
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The 60s (part 1 of 4 parts)
We thought it would be fun to commemorate the upcoming Academy Awards, which are being televised on February 24th. Let’s take a look back at the Oscar Winning Best Original songs from previous decades, along with some of the cool stories behind them. Our first installment is all the great songs from the 1960s. Sit back and enjoy!
1960: “Never on Sunday” from the film of the same title. Composed by Manos Hadjidakis, and sung in the film by Melina Mercouri. The song won the Academy Award for Best Original Song, a first for a foreign-language picture, and was originally written in Greek. In addition to being nominated for the Best Original Song honors, Mercouri was also nominated for Best Actress honors, but unfortunately, did not win.
(An interesting side note from the Editor: Ms. Mercouri was given at state funeral in Greece after she passed away from lung cancer in 1994. Not only had she been a well-regarded actress in Europe as well as the U.S. but had been an activist against the Greek Junta’s coup d’état takeover of Greece in the late 60’s and later served twice as the country’s Minister of Culture.)
1961: “Moon River” is from the film “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” This highly romantic song was composed by Henry Mancini, with lyrics by Johnny Mercer, and sung in the film by its star, Audrey Hepburn. After its “Best Original Song” honors at the Oscars, it became the theme song for Andy Williams, who first recorded it in 1962 (and performed it at the Academy Awards ceremony that year). The song has since been covered by numerous artists. As Robert Wright wrote in The Atlantic Monthly, “This is a love sung to wanderlust. Or a romantic song in which the romantic partner is the idea of romance.”
1962: “Days of Wine and Roses” plays in the film of the same title. Composed by Henry Mancini, with lyrics by Johnny Mercer, and sung by numerous artists over the years. The most well-known versions were by Andy Williams in 1963, and Perry Como, also in 1963.
The phrase “days of wine and roses” is originally from the poem “Vitae Summa Brevis” by the English writer Ernest Dowson.
1963: “Call Me Irresponsible” was performed for the film “Papa’s Delicate Condition.” Composed by Jimmy Van Heusen, with lyrics by Sammy Cahn. The song was originally thought to have been written for Judy Garland, however Sammy Cahn said during an interview in 1988 that the song was initially written for Fred Astaire to sing in the film “Papa’s Delicate Condition” in which Astaire was supposed to star in. Due to other contractual obligations, the role later went to Jackie Gleason, who initially introduced the song.
1964: “Chim Chim Cheree” is from the film “Mary Poppins.” Written and composed by Richard M. Sherman & Robert B. Sherman and sung in the film by Dick Van Dyke and Julie Andrews. The song was inspired by one of the drawings of a chimney sweep created by Mary Poppins’ screenwriter, Don DaGradi. When asked about the drawing by the Sherman Brothers, DaGradi explained “the ancient British folklore attributed to ‘sweeps’ and how shaking hands with one could bring a person good luck”, inspiring them to write this as Bert’s theme song.
1965: “The Shadow of Your Smile” made it big in the film “The Sandpiper,” AKA “Love Theme from The Sandpiper”. The music was written by Johnny Mandel, lyrics by Paul Francis Webster. The song was introduced in the 1965 film The Sandpiper. Initially, this was written as a trumpet solo for Jack Sheldon in the film and became a minor hit for Tony Bennett. The song was introduced during the height of the Bossa Nova wave of the mid-60s, a time which popularized the Brazilian musical influence. “The Shadow of Your Smile” subsequently became one of the most frequently recorded songs of the decade.
1966: “Born Free” is from the film of the same name, music by John Barry, and lyrics by Don Black and was originally recorded by Matt Monro. Lyricist Don Black managed British singer Monro at the time, and he and Barry asked him to record the song for the film’s soundtrack. Monro’s interpretation appeared over the closing credits in a shortened version recorded especially for the film, which enabled it to qualify for the Academy Award. The song was subsequently recorded by hit makers such as Frank Sinatra, Andy Williams, and Roger Williams, among others.
1967: “Talk To The Animals” comes from the hit film “Doctor Doolittle,” written and composed by British composer Leslie Bricusse. The song was performed in the film by star, Rex Harrison. It was widely rumored that the song was not generally well appreciated, and in some cases, was actually disliked by those who were working on the film during the time of its production. However, it was fondly remembered enough to be included in the 1988 Eddie Murphy version of the same movie.
1968: “The Windmills of Your Mind” played in the film “The Thomas Crowne Affair” with music by French composer Michel Legrand, the French lyrics (under the title “Les Moulins de mon cœur”) written by Eddy Marnay, and the English lyrics written by Americans Alan and Marilyn Bergman. The song is heard initially sung by Noel Harrison during opening credits and later, during the film, in a scene in which the character Thomas Crown flies a glider at the airport in Salem, New Hampshire. The movie starred Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway.
1969: “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head” is found in the film “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” written by Hal David and Burt Bacharach. The song was sung by B. J. Thomas in the movie, and later recorded in seven takes, after Bacharach expressed dissatisfaction with the first six. In the film version of the song, Thomas had been recovering from laryngitis, which made his voice sound hoarser than in the 7-inch release. The song was a number one hit in multiple countries, including the U.S. and went on to top Billboard’s Hot 100 for four weeks making it the first number one American hit of the 70’s.
So many great songs, with such a rich tapestry of sometimes little-known information behind their making. I’m always totally fascinated by the stories behind the songs, aren’t you? We’ll explore more Oscar Award winning hits, next time from the 70s in our next installment. Until then, cheers!
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