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Although Woody Allen’s Manhattan is one of cinema’s best and most-loved films, it also among the most misunderstood. This is probably because there is such a disconnect between the film’s stunning and romantic imagery, and the way the characters actually behave on-screen. Often, it’s been called a “love letter” to New York, or what’s worse, a “love poem,” but it’s really an excoriation of Isaac Davis (Woody Allen) and the projection of his ideals, which are incongruently set against all that’s beautiful and lush. It is quite an effective device, for it makes the film seem to be about one thing, yet completely undermines the genre tropes that other superficially similar works are so dependent on, even as the black and white cinematography of the great Gordon Willis seems to ‘pretend’ otherwise. Not wasting any time, Woody makes this apparent from the very first shot, in which Isaac is busy at his book. Yes, it’s a ‘romantic’ trope, in the sense that Isaac is a man in love with his city, and trying to write, but is marred by the fact that he simply cannot express one well-articulated thought. At end, he settles on this line: “‘He was as tough and romantic as the city he loved. Behind his black-rimmed glasses was the coiled sexual power of a jungle cat.’ I love this. ‘New York was his town and it always would be.’” This is not exactly good writing, and flies in the face of a later scene where he up and quits his job so he could stop writing crap television, and work on something “serious” and worthwhile instead. Clearly it is not, and despite being one of the most-quoted parts of the film, there is an irony, a futility, here, that most viewers do not catch. The stunning visuals of fireworks are celebratory, but of what? Probably of Isaac’s feelings and ideals, which are repeatedly shown to have little to do with reality, not only of the outside world, but of his internal life, as well, which is as false and self-congratulatory as anything he critiques. This gives Manhattan a special place in cinema, even as, thirty-five years later, it continues to outshine films that, while inspired by Woody’s, are restricted by the genre conventions he absolutely defies.
After the great opening, the forty-something Isaac is shown, at a jazz club with Tracy (Mariel Hemingway), his seventeen year-old girlfriend, his best friend Yale (Michael Murphy), and Yale’s wife Emily. Isaac reveals that his ex-wife, Jill (Meryl Streep), now living with a woman, is writing a book about their marriage, and pretentiously smokes a cigarette — a nice little touch, given what’s already known about his talent. He fusses about Tracy, as if ‘exasperated’ with her age, but is really showing the fact off, and basks within. On a walk around the city, Yale reveals to Isaac that he’s having an affair, and Isaac is critical, even going as far as making fun of the mistress’s qualities, despite … Continue reading → | English | NL | 73dafc5f59db3c5d9120e24ec7434a2bbb30174998a0a94c8abd007dbe376e87 |
This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
Genres: Historical Romance, M/M Romance
Published by Samhain Publishing
Released on November 24, 2015
Hadn’t tried the author before and was curious after reading the story line. This was an emotional best friends to lovers historical romance that was overall enjoyable.
It was the latest installment in a series, but I had no trouble since it’s more of a separate story of a minor character from the earlier three stories that are all needed to be read in order.
The story is a ‘now’ and ‘then’ that flips between present and past and both heroes so the reader has to pay attention and keep up. I do wish the ending hadn’t been somewhat framed by the beginning because it left me with knowing exactly where things are headed. However, on the flip side, I can see that going linearly would have left a series of past scenes with gaps and then the present.
The story in the present is of Ian Sinclair who has left the army and now plans to take up espionage work for the Crown in India. He will be gone for years and maybe never return. The decision has left him unsettled and he knows why. He has unfinished business. His best friend from when they were young boys and on through into manhood, James Hart. Ian needs James’ forgiveness for the way his actions and words severed their deep friendship two years before. He hurt James deeply and he can’t have that on his conscience. He wants their friendship restored so he is going to James’ sister’s houseparty to make the effort before he leaves.
James Hurt, a serious naturalist and gentle soul, has loved Ian Sinclair his whole life, but too many times Ian accepted and then quickly rejected what James gave honestly and freely. Now, he is done. Ian wants his forgiveness; he can have it. His friendship? No; he can’t simply be friends like Ian wants. James is done letting Ian crush his heart. But to go all the way to India…James feels his last hopes are over.
The story is very emotional because, after the first meet up, these young men go through several bouts of acceptance and rejection as the history of their relationship is told between present day scenes. It never actually feels angsty to me because of the way it was broken up present to past and alternates. It was also not a hot passionate piece, but more a slow burner. It wasn’t a long story so I never felt that it stalled out, but it was steady without any huge amounts of excitement. There are a few blips when it seems that others will figure out the truth about these guys, but for the most part, it was James and Ian. Okay and an important cameo-type scene with Ian and the two characters who were the protagonists for the three previous books.
They are an interesting pair with James a naturalist and Ian a soldier. They always saw each other’s strengths and the real person behind the polite society mask which was why this friends to lovers plot had me liking the story and the characters.
James is younger and is innocently open. He knows the dangers of being with Ian during that era, but he is just so eager for Ian to accept him and his love. James is more interested in nature, specifically his butterflies, than people so he can be oblivious to subtle and less than subtle things going on around him.
Ian is always that little bit ahead of James in experience and feels protective of him, but never quite gets what is happening under his nose until suddenly the attraction is obvious and mutual. Blinders are off and he realizes James is a man grown and wanting to share something with him that terrifies Ian on both their parts.
Ian is more complex of the two though the hints at what makes him tick are not stated obviously until late in the story. Most readers will see that Ian’s hot and cold and issues are not because he is a self-absorbed jerk. This is where James’ innocence and youth don’t help because he can’t see that Ian is messed up after growing up with an abusive alcoholic father who was already disappointed that Ian survived and the favored son died and pokes at him because he knows Ian’s secret. And Ian was like many abused children in that he still craved his parent’s respect and tried to please him never realizing that it was impossible.
All in all, I was pleased with the story and am interested to go back for the earlier books about the other pair. The history backdrop was treated well and I liked the way the author built her characters and their story. Those who enjoy slightly spicy m/m Historical Romance should take a closer look at the series.
I received this book from Net Galley in exchange for an honest review.
Romance Roundabout #189 LGBT
Literary Pickers #98 ‘India’
Blogger Shame #22
Mt. TBR #80
New to Me #77 author/series | English | NL | 0fbf31c0a19242d0c0020abb9f7ad8c8b12fc360d72e242feeacc5fcd5c6f58f |
The following short story is a creation tale unlike most by James Crane. For more strange and gothic horror pop over to The Crumbling Keep for Demon’s, Magical Trinkets, and more. They also have a Patreon that helps support these wonderfully ominous creations. Sit back, grab your snack of choice, and enjoy.
In the days of old, many cultures believed the world was created by demonkind. While the majority of the world today worships the dragon gods, there are still small pockets whose prayers are directed toward the oldest gods. In dark ruins and ancient temples on the fringes of the civilized worlds, those worshipers read from decaying texts, spreading the tales of the very creation of the world itself. What follows is one such account…
In the beginning, there was darkness. The first being existed within it without shape or sense of self. The darkness was the first being and the first being was the darkness.
Ages passed and the darkness yearned for more. It coalesced and collapsed in upon itself, giving the second being substance. Thus, Jeragroth came into being. Aware for the first time in the darkness, Jeragroth sought to scream but had no mouth. The second being willed its own mouth into existence and wailed into the darkness. Unable to hear itself, it next willed itself ears. It heard its own screaming and was pleased.
The darkness was also pleased. Its emptiness was filled with the cries of Jeragroth, the agony of being never allowing the second one to be silent. Many more ages passed with only the darkness and Jeragroth. Ever did the screams become sweeter for the darkness. Its feelings for its spawn grew.
The darkness drew tighter around the second one. It seeped inside of him. He seeped inside of it. For a time, they were but one being again. When their copulation had finished, the darkness had produced offspring. Hence Jeragroth became the father of demons, the darkness their mother.
The union had produced a set of triplets. Luln, Lord of rage, was their son. Braxult, Queen of Death and Peace, was their daughter. Erethalion, Caln of Choice and Chance, was both son and daughter, and neither all at once. They wailed as they emerged into the nothing. Jeragroth was pleased, as was the darkness. It grew in its joy until Sribinet, the first realm, formed. Here they lived in their eternal torment.
Time passed in Sribinet and it did not, as is the way in the demon realm. The passage of ages was not as mortals would one day know. The three grew to adulthood, and they became envious of their parents. Luln wished to be father. Braxult wished to be mother. Erethalion only wished for change. Together, the siblings conspired.
One day, Jeragroth came to inflict harm on the three, for his pleasure and that of the darkness.
“Stand, my children, for I would rend your flesh. Stand, my children, for I would see your blood. Stand, my children, for I would hear your screams.
“I will not, father, for I would rather scream in anger than pain.”
With that, Jeragroth charged forward in rage.
“I will not, father, for I choose not to.”
With that, Jeragroth stumbled, his legs failing beneath him.
“I will not, father, for I would see you rest.”
With that, she stood, brandishing a hidden blade. It flashed forward and sunk deep into his chest. He gasped twice before becoming ever still.
The siblings rejoiced, for their tormentor was slain. Sribinet now belonged to them.
Braxult took the body of her father, as was her duty. She reached into Sribinet and created an endless feasting hall made of wood and bone. She again unsheathed her hidden blade and separated Jeragroth’s soul from his body. She cast his body away from her with such strength that it left Sribinet and became adrift in the nameless spaces. His soul, she placed at the head of an endless table.
“Here you shall sit, father, until all is done.
Your drink shall be dust, your food shall be ash.
You will gain companions one day, and they shall be as you.
Silent and waiting, until all comes to an end.”
And there she left him to wait.
Erethalion had all they desired. All of the future had been freed from the time of destiny. All that had been sure was no longer so. They climbed upon a throne of sand with ever shifting grains. There, they waited.
Luln was free. There was none to stop his rage. All across Sribinet, he caused destruction and pain. Where his siblings crossed his path, they suffered. Where his mother was to be found, she wept from his fury.
And she was pleased.
The feelings between child and mother grew. Luln had wanted to become father. Mother, The Darkness, allowed him his wish. A second copulation happened, the screams and howls tearing the very fabric of being. Thus were the nine born during their fornication.
Where they penetrated each other, Yuzzdil, demon of lust was born.
Where they lost themselves in their lust, their minds completely consumed, Thathtil Grog Mezzserin, demon of madness, was born.
Where their claws pierced each other and blood was drawn, Yarlloth, demon of war, was born.
Where one would lash out, causing the other harm, Faqual, demon of fear, was born.
When they coveted each other, attempting to take more than they gave, Gul, demon of greed, was born.
Where they reveled in their prowess, knowing no humility, Ashtabula, demon of pride, was born.
Where they leaked into each other, infecting each other with themselves, Drexath, Demon of Disease, was born.
When they rested afterward, devoid of all desire, Nuremian, demon of apathy and entropy, was born.
When they regained their sense of self and realized that, despite whatever company they found themselves in, they would forever be alone, Bakuritan, Demon of Woe, was born.
The darkness and Luln had imbued them all with a sense of being. Luln appraised his new kin. He remembered back to his first moments of being, when he had screamed and cried into the darkness. He remembered the joy it had brought her. He decided to give his lover a gift.
He devised ever new tortures for his children and siblings, filling the darkness with their cries. Be it lust, apathy, war, or even death; Luln, the demon father, inflicted pain without beginning or end on his family, just as his bride did to him.
Braxult recognized the chain. Creator abused created. She reasoned that it was her duty to create and abuse as well. The demon of death needed life to fulfill this need. Only the living would fear dying, which would perhaps be their biggest torment. She stole some of the darkness and molded it with her bare hands. Soon, she had a mass of land floating in a sea of dark, though it barely stayed together. There was no life to be found on it. Braxult realized that, while death can give meaning to life, it can not create it.
She wandered the darklands alone, not knowing what to do. She came upon Yarllath, hammering upon a great anvil. The sparks shot off into the darkness, casting little patches of light.
“Well met, sister.” Said Yarllath. “Have you come to fight me? Have you come to glory in the letting of blood? Let us give our father a river of crimson. Let us give our mother the cries of the dying!”
Braxult smiled, for she knew a secret that none of the rest did. She would be there when they all died, for she was death itself. Though she lived in the darkness, she would one day lead it to its final resting place. Yarllath could do nothing to her.
“No, my brother. It is what happens after the battle that interests me. I shall soothe the loser and praise the winner. I care not for undecided contests. Mine is a place of resolution. Mine is a place of ends.”
Yarllath smiled. “And mine is a place of ferocity and honor. Be gone from me, sister. I think you weak.”
Braxult did as she was told, but not before snatching some of the stray sparks. Cupping them in her hands, she wandered away again, pushing farther into the dark.
Soon, she came upon Yuzzdil, writhing in the darkness. His/her moans alternated between soft and guttural. Braxult listened, but felt nothing.
“Have you come to love your sister-brother, Braxult? Come, and loose yourself in my thighs. Come and be filled by me. I will moan or scream or cry, whatever you wish.”
Braxult smiled. She knew that Yuzzdil would one day send many into her realms.
“No, sister-brother. The dead have no need for the pleasures of the flesh, for their flesh will but rot away. One day, lives will be lost for lust, though I believe it has other powers too.”
“The pleasures and pain of the flesh are all there is, Braxult. Be gone from me, sister. You are frigid.”
Braxult did as she was told, but not before collecting some of Yuzzdil’s spilt seed. Putting it in a little glass vial, she again began to wander.
Next, she came upon Gul sitting upon a pile of his riches. He eyed her suspiciously as she approached.
“Have you come to steal my riches, sister? Have you come to take what is mine and only mine?”
Braxult knew that while her brother always wanted more, he would be all too happy if she would covet what was his.
“I have not, brother. Though beings will one day be buried with their possessions, the dead carry nothing with them to the next realms. They will be born with naught and will end with the same. You will only know them in the middle.
“You lie, sister. Everyone wants something. Now be gone. I think you the fool.”
Braxult did as she was told, but she had lied. While Gul was distracted by his tirade, she had palmed a red ruby and a gold coin. Placing them in a small pouch, she once again wandered.
Eventually, she heard weeping. Following it, she came upon Bakuritan, alone in the darkness.
“You have come for no reason, have you sister? There is no reason to any of this. We our riddled by constant loss, yet even that imparts no meaning,” wept Bakuritan.
Braxult stayed stoic, no emotion on her face.
“The dead need no meaning, sister. The have as little need for sorrow as they do for joy. I have come with reason, sister, though it be unknown to you.”
“May you be next in line for father’s fancy, sister. May he torture you until you know nothing but sadness! Now be gone, I think you deceive yourself.”
Braxult did as she was told, but not before she collected Bakuritan’s tears. Soaking them up in a cloth, she went alone again into the nothing.
The air began to grow cold around her, causing her skin to burn. Braxult knew this as a sign that their sibling Faqual was near, but they could not see them. Braxult moved silently, trying not to attract attention. Ever was she certain that she was being followed. Ever was there movement out of the corner of her eye.
“Greetings, Death. You have become lost.”
The voice came in a thousand whispers, each one cutting into her mind like a knife. Though Braxult trembled, she walked onward.
“You are reminded of where true power lay now, yes? I can cause armies to run. I make warriors scream. Even death feels fear. Do you bow down before me, sister?”
Braxult steadied herself and stood straight.
“No, sibling, I do not. You are strong, it is true, but you are not real. Death is eternal. Death is actual.”
The whispered turned into a roar. “You are wrong, sister! Now flee, sister! I deem you a coward.”
Braxult left, but not before collecting ice from her siblings cold breath.
She did not walk long when loud laughter filled the air. Ashtabula ran forward out of the darkness to greet her.
“Hello, sister. Have you come to race me? You will lose, for I am the fastest. Have you come to engage me in riddles? You will lose, for I am the smartest. Have you come to wrestle me? You will lose, for I am the strongest.”
Braxult shook her head. Ashdula was none of these things, but he could not be swayed.
“I have come to do no such things, brother. Death needs not prove anything. Death’s existence is proof enough and it will someday drive beings to prove themselves against it. None escape it forever, however.”
“You are wrong, sister. I am the best and you just accept mediocrity. Now be gone. I find you to be inferior.”
Braxult did as she was told, but not before collecting the air from Ashdula’s boasts in a leather bladder. She walked again into the darkness.
As she walked, the darkness took on a purplish hue. Flecks of color punctuated with, the likes of which Braxult had never seen. Thathtil Greg Mezzserin sat alone amongst the swirls. Sheb plunged a needle in and out of her stomach, trailing thread behind it.
“Greetings, sister, lover, hornets nest. Have you come for prophecy? Or a song or painting? Perhaps you’ve come to hear my secrets that none other know. For instance, there is no real difference between a color and a sound. My name means bringer of poisons. My name means bones of the raven. My name means nothing. Will you come play with me, sister? Will you come walk in my fields and burn my mountains?
Braxult stepped back.
“I will not, sister. You, of us all, are truly more terrible than me. Your familiars will pray to be released into my care.”
Thathtil Grog Mezzserin looked up at Braxult. She flicked the needle and thread toward her.
“You will leave me now, Braxult, but you will take this needle and thread before you do. The road is winding and ever changing. The blood will be born with my gifts. You will know my poetry by its hollow bones. Now go.”
So Braxult did, silently and without reply.
The colors faded as she traveled farther away from Thathil Grog Mezzserin. Braxult was quiet and disturbed as she picked her way through the dark lands once again. She was lost in thought, a side effect of seeing her sister. The insanity was contagious and she struggled to shrug it off, her mind swirling in quiet subdued panic.
So distracted was she that Braxult did not notice she was no longer alone. Her foot slammed into something physical, pulling her back into her current reality. Looking down, she spotted Nuremian, sitting upon the ground. He looked to have lain there a long time. The skin on his ribs clung to them, his stomach distended. Though he could truly not die, Nuremian was starving. A hollow blank look hung in his eyes. He made not a sound, despite the impact.
Braxult’s eyes swayed a foot away from him. There, on the ground and easily within his reach, was an apple. His hunger obviously caused him great discomfort, yet he could not be bothered to eat. Braxult thought to protest, but realized it was meaningless. Without a word, she picked up the apple and left.
She wandered then for an age. When she had thought all that she needed to think, Braxult returned to her cold creation. Standing before it was Drexath. Her skin was covered in boils, her breath coming into her lungs in raspy gasps. She seemed frail, yet her strength was found in the frailty. She hissed out her words before Braxult had a chance to inquire as to her presence.
“You have sought gifts from each of your siblings, save me. You have stolen from them all. Gul must be pleased. Why, sister, have you not sought out a boon from me?”
Braxult lowered her gaze. She always found her sister’s appearance pleasing, though she was quite certain Yuzzdil had something to do with that. She hesitated for a moment before she spoke.
“I seek to defy my nature, sister, and create. I do not know that you have anything you can do to assist me. Ours is not the hand of making.”
Drexath smiled, stepping slowly toward Braxult. The demon of disease’s leathery hand moved to the demon of death’s face, crinkling as it caressed.
“You will receive a gift from me, sister, though I will happen after your creation is done. I will send to you countless souls over time. War will ravage them and greed with be their undoing. Lust will drive them into madness. Pride and Apathy’s kin will forever remain lovers. It is disease, however, that will offer a bounty unto death.”
Drexath leaned closer, her bloodied cheek wiping against her sister’s. Her mouth puckered and whispered into her ear.
“It is I who will fill you, sister.”
Without another word, Drexath walked away. Braxult watched her until she disappeared into the darkness. She starred in the direction for a long time. Then, she began her work.
With the needle and thread, Braxult strengthened her creation. It created great depressions in the ground where it crashed into this new world. She opened the vial of tears to fill them, creating Oceans and rivers.
Braxult hung the spark in the heavens and watched as light and heat bathed her creation. Next she hung the gem and gold piece so that they might reflect the light of this new sun into the dark places of the world. The light would keep the Sribinet from entirely consuming it, keeping it forever hers until even the sun and the moons died.
Next, she packed the ice along the northern part so thickly that the sun may never melt all of it. Then Braxult opened the leather bladder, leaking out the whirling air of boasts to create the skies. Into these winds, she crushed the apple. The seeds of the fruit spread out amongst the lands, causing food and trees to grow. This was followed by the winds blowing the northern ice down over the world, putting those plants to bed until it would melt and allow them to grow again. The world now had water to drink, heat to warm it, and food to eat. Her creation needed but one last thing.
She retrieved the spilt seed of her sister brother. He fingers smeared the paste-like substance all over the planet. There, the sun warmed it until it started to grow. Out of this ooze, humans, the first people, were born. Braxult was satisfied. The demon of death had created life. It was the life all others would spring from. She could not keep it secret forever, however. The other demon kind would find her prize.
Her kin soon discovered what she had done. Delighted, her brothers and sisters claimed dominion of this area and that, taking delight in torturing these newly made creatures. Yuzzdil kept quite busy inciting the humans, making sure the demons had a good supply of victims. The world, just like the Sribinet, was filled with the screams and tears of its beings. | English | NL | 5695a805762133a588bd9b2091794d7a040a0c871f7f4103f8a516445ecb90ae |
The Northeastern District
Assembly Church of Christ, Disciples of Christ, comprises the areas reaching from the District of Columbia to upstate New York and Connecticut.
There are twenty-six (26) churches with a total membership of approximately 3,000. The NEDA has a rich history which started with a few determined men. Some these men came from families that had not been
During the Great Depression of the 1930’s, a vast number of blacks began
to migrate northward; many Disciples of Christ, were counted in the number. There were no “Disciple Churches” as they were called in the Northeastern
area, stretching from Washington, DC to Main. A few ministers moved north with a need to continue the Church of Christ. One of the ministers was Elder Charles Gordon of Bath, NC. He made his home in Philadelphia, PA. He gathered a few Disciples together and as a result the St. Peter Church of Christ, Disciples of Christ was organized.
Elder Gordon outstanding statement was, “You can catch more flies with sugar than you can with vinegar.” His
philosophy was that people would work better if they were not driven or spoken to harshly.
In 1928, another energetic Elder emerged. This man was Elder Oscar Samuel Lucas; his desire was to pattern this assembly after the assemblies of eastern NC. To accomplish
this, he contacted Elder William C. Gillams and Elder Henry T. Williams, Deacon James Borum, and Sister Ruth (Ebron) Gibbs for a conference in Philadelphia. They all met with Elder Gordon, Pastor of St. Peter Church of Christ, Disciples of Christ, St. Mary Church of Christ, Disciples of Christ and some other small
missions. In 1930, the union of these churches was organized into an assembly. Elder Gordon was
elected “Chief” and Elder Lucas as his assistant. The seven councilmen were: Elder Lucas, (Chairman), Elder E. G. Gidson, Henry T. Williams, William C.
Gillams, J. J. Gregory, William M. Johnson and Charles H. Gordon. Thus, the Northeastern District Assembly came into existence.
In 1932, the Assembly was incorporated with the name Northeastern
District Assembly, Churches of Christ, Composed of Disciples. For the Assembly’s meeting, a building was rented on Fulton Street, Brooklyn,
NY. The collection during some of the sessions was no more than $5.00. The “Chief” of the Assembly
received a donation of $10.00 annually.
In 1951, the name of the Assembly was modified.
Composed of Disciples was replaced with Disciples of Christ; hence the name Northeastern District Assembly Church of Christ, Disciples of Christ, came
into being. The three Subsidiaries that came into existence were the following:
The Women’s Home Mission (later named Home Missionary Convention)
The Sunday School Convention
The Union (was already in existence before the Assembly)
Sister Ruth Gibbs was instrumental in the increase in the number of
In 1943, Chief Gordon’s health began to fail. Bishop Gillams was called to be the “Acting Chief.” After the death of Chief Gordon in 1944, Chief Gillams was elected to carry
the torch. In 1945, the General Assembly ruled that the title of Bishop would be used for all District Assembly Chiefs.
Bishop Gillams saw the need for the ministers and laymen to meet at a
central point to learn more about the bible, become unified in doctrine, and to learn modern techniques in teaching and preaching; hence the Ministerial Conference came into existence.
To take care of the business of the Assembly, it was agreed to have an annual Mid Year Assembly Business Meeting. The first meeting was held in April 1965 at the Shiloh Church of Christ, Disciples of Christ, which was the Assembly’s Headquarters.
In 1955, Bishop Gillams was elected Bishop for life.
On February 17, 1972, Gillams died, and Bishop William M. Johnson guided the Assembly after his death. He appointed
Elder George W. Johnson as his assistant and then later Elder Harold N. Foy was appointed Second Vice Bishop. Bishop William Johnson was a stern leader
and at times had a “sharp tongue.” His famous saying was, “It’s holiness or hell.” When everything
seemed to be falling in place, Bishop Johnson died in October 1973.
In 1974, Bishop G. W. Johnson was elected Bishop; he
became the fourth Bishop of the Assembly. Bishop Johnson was a mild-mannered man who believed in taking his time before making a decision.
He did everything he could do to make the Assembly grow; he even purchased a building for our headquarters. The
Building Fund Chairman, Bishop Lander E. Brown started a Building Fund Program. His efforts and the Assembly’s efforts came to fruition on Saturday,
February 9, 1980, when a meeting was called at the St. Paul Church of Christ, Disciples of Christ, and the vote was taken to purchase the property. The
building was located at 88 Rockaway Avenue, Brooklyn, NY (corner of McDougal Street). The Assembly was moving towards its long-time dream – to have a
headquarters. The headquarters building was becoming a burden and the plans for renovation were not materializing, so it was voted to forfeit the building. This too was a sad period in the history of the NEDA; we gave up a dream of making that building our headquarters.
Several of the churches weren’t happy with the leadership so they left
and started another Assembly. As a result, the Assembly continued to grow. The Disciples Herald was developed, committees were formed; Housing, Hospitality, Nutrition, Transportation, and the Fund-Raising Committee. Over thirteen years Bishop G. W. Johnson carried the torch.
In 1986, Bishop Harold N. Foy was
elected as Bishop. Bishop Foy was a no non-sense man. He was an avid business person.
He believed in moving forward.
In 1994, Bishop Marvin Creech became the Bishop.
Bishop Creech was a soft-spoken, mild mannered man, one that was full of jokes. Even with his easy temperament, he
said what he meant and he meant what he said. Under the leadership of Bishop Creech, the number of churches grew. The Northeastern District Assembly now had thirty-four (34) churches. Bishop Creech loved singing and he himself could
sing. During this period, the Marvin Creech Male Chorus was formed under the direction of Deacon Luther Brown. Bishop Creech served as Bishop for twelve (12) years. Bishop Creech felt his work as a Presiding Bishop was done, so when the
election was held in September 2006, he did not run for re-election. The election was held and Elder Leonard E. Brown and Elder Andrew Boomer, Jr.,
were elected as the Presiding Bishop and Vice Bishop of the Northeastern District Assembly Church of Christ, Disciples of Christ.
Some accomplishments that have been set in place under the leadership of Bishop Brown
Set curriculum guidelines for ordination and relicensing of ministers,
Restructured the Ministerial Conference,
Promoted transparency and accountability of good stewardship for the Assembly and its subsidiaries,
Formed the deacons’ and mothers’ board, and
Initiated two (2) new churches – New Life Evangelistic Ministries, and Mt. Carmel Church, Togo Africa.
In 2010, elections were held and Bishop Andrew J. Boomer, Jr. became the
Presiding Bishop of the Northeastern District Assembly. Under his leadership, the Assembly continues to grow. As of this writing, there are thirty (30) churches. Soul Savings Station was initiated and accepted into the
assembly. Also, we had our first Men’s Conference and Foreign Mission Convention. Bishop Boomer’s motto
is “Do the right thing because it is the right thing to do.” We are looking forward to greater things that the Lord has in store for us.
To God be the Glory for all He has done and is about to do!
For more information on the General Assembly of the Church of Christ, Disciples of Christ,
Please click on the link below. | English | NL | 1959d955a6200c43f556102d700b275b4f0a90eca10d6a2704c528c92d02d23e |
Izuku wakes to the sound of children laughing.
Warily wondering why the scientists have let children into his pen before his last few years flash before his mind.
Inko, a promise, freedom, red, fulfilling a promise, exhaustion, and sleep.
He remembers using his powers, he remembers bringing the humans a gift. He remembers being tired.
The sound of laughter causes Izuku to focus on the children once again, he thought this place to be foolproof. Shoving his memories to the side to think about them later. No one can see this place. It sends them in the opposite direction. Perhaps his wish has worn off? Rustily using the teaching that Inko told him. She taught him how to walk like a human. She taught him to walk like a human. He found himself stretching as he stood on two feet. Using his powers to make him have opposable thumbs he brushes himself off before stepping closer to the sound. He looks through the thick thorn bushes that hide his home to see two young humans playing in the woods.
Odd. They are about the same size as him. Perhaps everyone is short now? He notices that both of them have gotten his gift. One human boy(?) is growing horns and has a long scaled tail that drags on the ground. He has green hair like me. While the other has an explosion gift. It's interesting to see the way his wish has been interpreted in the time that he has been gone. Izuku watches the young children play tag in the woods unaware of the time. It seems the sun is going down. He feels the hole in his heart grow, he misses Inko. But he has a photo of her in his necklace. He gently rubs the heart-shaped necklace that lays against his fluffy chest. He pauses. Fluffy? He was short hair when he first slept.
Izuku quickly rushes to the puddle he noticed earlier and looks down in shock, his hair has grown curly and dark green, his ears are big and pointy, he has new fangs and a short stubby tail, his hair covers most of his features. His nails are long and curly, and thick. But most importantly He hasn’t grown at all. He's still only 2ft tall. Last but not least Izuku looks at the photo of Inko, only to find it dull and worn, but he can still see her.
Izuku realizes that it may have been more than a just few years of sleep. He wonders just when he is. Just when he finished cleaning himself up, he turns around to see the two small children standing in his home.
There is no need for him to panic right?
“Who the fuck are you?” The blonde one spoke first.
“Kaachan!! You can’t swear at strangers!” the green one said.
“Don’t tell me what to fucking do Deku!!” Kaachan replied.
Izuku panics and speaks quietly, hoping to pass off as a child “im..lost..” His voice is dry and unused, he forces tears to come from his eyes.
“Kaachan!! You made him cry!” the green one shouted.
“Shit I did, fuck I didn’t mean to!??” Kaachan shouted back.
Izuku tried to call upon his voice once more, using his wish to make clothing appear in the same manner and places as the children, he shifts nervously “c-can you help me back to town?”
The green one’s eyes light up at the idea “Kaachan we can be heroes! Oh! My name is Midoriya Ifza !” He gestures wildly to Kaachan “this is Bakugou Kaachan!” Izuku does a double take, he guesses that Izumi is a girl now that he looks closer. What was that about heroes?
Bakugou stomps his foot and lets off his quirk before wildly screaming “ ITS BAKUGOU KATSUKI IDIOT”
Izuku, nervous to give out his name quickly thinks of a nickname and goes with, “um..call me Izu, m-my momma told me not to tell others my name.”
“That's fuckin weird.”
“Let's get moving before it gets pitch black fuckers!”
After about 5 minutes of the sudden random rant about a man named ‘All-Might’ and whatever quirks are. Izuku visibly flinches when his feet touch the pavement. What is this? There are buildings and lights. Izuku finally found the guts to speak up, especially when they entered what he assumed to be the city;
“Um... Midoriya, Bakugou? What’s an ‘All Might’? and a Quirk? what are we walking on and why are all those buildings scary and tall? Um Is this a City? M-my mamma told me to avoid these places, we should leave..” It was about Midnight now. He must have accidentally subconsciously sped forward time while they were walking in the woods. Oops.
Both of them turned to look at Izuku with a weird look on their faces, Why are they making that face?
Izuku turns to see a tall woman with dark hair running towards them shouting “Ifza!” With the police behind her. She rushes past and holds up Midoriya, and she promptly starts sobbing. Bakugou joins in as a tall woman with similar features had picked up him up.
Izuku looks up to both the women.
“Ifza dear, who is your friend?” The woman, who appears to be her mother looks down at Izuku and that makes his heart race. For some reason, he can't focus on making eye contact with the clear adult. “Momma we found them in the woods too!” small Midoriya chimes in.
“Yeah!” Bakugou chimes in “They were lost too! So we wanted to be heroes and take him back to town!” Bakugou has a big smile on his face. His mom sets him down on the ground. “Where’s your parent brat?” His mom asks.
Izuku is scared, his breathing becomes labored he doesn't want to speak. “She’s with the peopl e in coats, and i-i” Izuku can’t stop the tears coming from his face. “I can't go back!!”
Tall Midoriya chimes in “its okay dear we won’t make you go back okay? You can stay right here.” She set down Ifza and got closer to his eye level. Small Midoriya reaches out to grab and hold Izuku’s hand and for a moment he lets them hold hands, it helps Izuku think of the present.
Tall Midoriya looks around for a brief moment. “Could you turn off your quirk sweetie, There's no need to be scared, we can help you.” For a brief moment, tall Midoriya’s face fizzles away to look like one of the doctors. Izuku can feel the moment his heart drops. He looks behind her to see the police car and seeing the increasing worry in both the Bakugou’s faces and the two police officers on the scene. One of them leans into a radio while staring up at the sky, and in the distance, more sirens are coming. Izuku doesn’t know what that means and that terrifies him. This lady is going to take him and hurt him, she’s working for them!!
He can't go back! His breathing turns into frantic gasps.
He rips Midoriya’s hand from the scientist. Much to the shock of both of them. Tall Midoriya-The scientist then looks up at the sky and sees that the temperature dropped. Izuku’s vision is turning white, his body becomes cold. Frost covers the nearby trees in the park. Frost begins to cover the area around Midoriya and himself. Midoriya is crying out for that person he calls his mother. But his mind no longer registers the park, the city. All he can remember is the facility. His Mind bends to his power and creates a snow storm out of thin air. The police are shouting now. Midoriya rips from his grip and runs to his mother. But Izuku cannot hear any of this. All he can hear is the snow and his frantic heart in his ears.
He doesn’t want to go back to the facility. It's cold there. The Temperature drops quickly in the area around him. To sustain the snow. Suddenly there are people outside gathered around the area the police is roping the area off and keeping people away from him. Everyone is visibly tense. But he doesn’t see them anymore, all he sees is the group of people being the scientists that hurt him. He starts visibly shaking and he turns back to where the forest should have been only to see Inko clear as day Sleeping in the snow.
There's more screaming in his ears but he can't hear it, he feels something prick his neck, but he ignores it. Inko is right here. He found Inko! He found mama. He can only hear the roaring silence of snow of mountains. His focus is on Inko. His only worries are about his mother who raised him.
He manages to speak softly, to his mother, blissfully unaware of the hero approaching him, they lock eye contact but he doesn’t see past what his mind is making for him. He doesn’t see the hero with a black costume.
“Momma? Why are you sleeping in the red pool? It's cold here we have to go before they catch us”
Izuku hears softly the voice of his mother the last time “Its okay baby. They won't catch us. But you need to keep going. Okay? I’m going to rest here. But then I’ll zoom and catch up quickly okay? Keep walking for mamma. Can you race to see how far away you can get before I catch up?” He nods enthusiastically. “This world isn’t the right place for you Izuku. Stay out of sight. I love you.”
“I love you too mama!” With that, he turned to run down the mountain when suddenly Izuku is dragged out of his mind. The crowd that has acclimated is massive, thinking its a hero vs villain. but he stares at a tall man, with black hair that stands on end his eyes are covered in goggles, he sees they glow red. Oh! His gift! They named them Quirks! This man can stop his gift-er quirk. Izuku looks down to his midsection to find that a piece of fabric is wrapped around his waist. Oh, is he in trouble? He makes brief eye contact with the man before looking back at the two boys who helped him.
Bakugou and Midoriya are standing by the lady with the dark hair, Tall Midoriya, and Tall Bakugou. They look afraid. He didn't want to make them afraid. He just got scared it happens when he gets scared his power lashes out and does what it wants.
He begins to become dizzy and collapses just as the black-haired man catches him and pulls him forward in his white tape. He faintly notes that he’s never seen that many people before.
Izuku sleeps once more. | English | NL | aeb5d3153a748448183a71eb47201120ae4c218ec052730aa68f88583aebfe04 |
When you wake up on a Saturday morning ready to play basketball outside with your friends, what do you wear? You probably throw on an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts. After you slide your feet into a pair of socks, there's one more thing that you probably reach for. What are we talking about? Tennis shoes, of course!
Tennis shoes actually go by many different names: sneakers, athletic shoes, trainers, etc. You may be able to think of several other common names for tennis shoes. So how did these shoes come to be labeled with the name of one sport when they're used for so many different sports and athletic activities?
Shoes have a long history that dates back to the first human beings ever to walk on Earth. Although we don't have historical records that date that far back, we're sure that it probably didn't take ancient man long to figure out that wrapping animal skins around his feet could make traveling long distances much easier.
For thousands of years, shoes developed slowly. For most of history, they were crafted by hand by artisans and cobblers who would custom fit them for individual customers. All that changed in the 18th century with the invention of vulcanized rubber during the Industrial Revolution.
The first rubber-soled shoes were developed in the late 18th century in England. They were called plimsolls and were a far cry from the tennis shoes we know today. For example, they were all the same, which meant that there was no specific right or left foot!
Despite their deficiencies, plimsolls were popular and spurred rapid development of improved models and new styles. In particular, people began to use them for recreational activities, such as playing tennis. The rubber soles did not mark up the tennis court, and they allowed players to stop and start quickly.
Many of the popular shoe brands you know today got their start around this time. In 1892, for example, the U.S. Rubber Company developed a more comfortable rubber shoe with canvas tops that they called Keds. By 1917, they were mass-producing Keds to meet increased demand.
Around that same time, Marquis Converse began to make an athletic shoe specifically designed for basketball. His Converse All-Stars became popular, especially when an Indiana basketball player named Chuck Taylor endorsed them and began working with the company to improve them. Chuck Taylor All-Stars became one of the best-selling basketball shoes of all time.
In the 1920s, a German named Adi Dassler created a new sneaker brand that he named after himself: Adidas. His brother, Rudi, later started his own shoe company: Puma. As new athletic shoes were developed, people around the world began to use them for many different sports. It wasn't until the 1950s, however, that tennis shoes became popular as a fashion statement outside of any connection with athletics. | English | NL | bb8db6af03804cb76d103540888b3872b4a56782b2563ccffdd1850fa2224f09 |
We continue the story about our hero with the myth of Perseus and Medusa the gorgon.
Kind Polydectes sent Perseus to bring him the head of the only mortal gorgon, Medusa. This way, he could remain alone with Danaë and force her to marry him.
Luckily for our hero, goddess Athena decided to help him (she held a grudge against Medusa). She gave him a bronze shield which was polished like a mirror and she told him to look for the Graeae, three of the Phorcydes, who were sisters of the Gorgons and knew their whereabouts. God Hermes helped Perseus, too, by giving him an adamantine sickle.
The Graeae (Enyo, Deino and Pephredo) were three old women who shared one eye and one tooth among them (poor things, they were old ever since they were born). Perseus took their eye when they were passing it from one sister to the other and told them he'd give it back if they told him where he could find the "Nymphs" (in this case, the Hesperides). After they showed him the way, he gave them back the eye and the tooth. (Now this is the part that I couldn't understand: how could they show him the way or take him there, when he had their eye? I couldn't find the explanation in any source.)
A Roman version goes like this: goddess Minerva (Athena) gave him the bronze shield and god Mercurius (Hermes) gave him the winged sandals called talaria, the hat petasus that made him invisible, the sack and the sickle. In this story, the Graeae were the Gorgons' guardians (maybe that's where the expression "to keep an eye on something" comes ;-). Perseus stole their eye and threw it into the lake Tritonis and that's how he got rid of the guardians.
The Hesperides were the nymphs who guarded the orchard were Hera's golden apples were. They were also the keepers of other treasures of the gods. Among these were a sack (called kibisis), a pair of winged sandals and the helmet of Hades, which made invisible whoever would wear it.
Using the winged sandals, Perseus flew to the Okeanos, where the Gorgons lived. Their names were Stheno, Euryale, and Medusa. They had tusks just like boars, their hands were made of bronze and they also had wings made of gold. Whoever looked at them was turned into stone.
Our hero put on the helmet of invisibility and waited until all the Gorgons fell asleep. Then, moving silently with the winged sandals, he went where Medusa slept, looking at her image reflected in the bronze shield. When he beheaded her, the winged horse Pegasus and Chrysaor (who was a normal young man) sprang from her neck (she was pregnant with Poseidon's children).
As you can see, Perseus and Medusa didn't fight directly - he would have had no chance. He managed to do it with the help of the other gods.
As soon as he killed her, he put her head into the sack, without looking at it. Her sister woke up and tried to catch him, but he was invisible and he managed to escape.
In his Metamorphoses, Ovid says that Perseus was tired after the fight and he asked hospitality from the Titan Atlas. He introduced himself, saying he is Jupiter's son, and he promised to tell the titan about his adventures, in exchange for hospitality. But Atlas knew about a prophecy that one of Jupiter's sons will defeat him, so he didn't receive the hero. Perseus was so angry, that he took Medusa's head out of the sack and showed it to Atlas, transforming him into a mountain.
One of the reasons this story could not have happened is the following: Perseus is Herakles' great-grandfather, and we know that Herakles encountered Atlas and they tricked each other into carrying the heaven.
While crossing the desert, drops of Medusa's blood fell on the sand and gave birth to the poisonous vipers of the desert.
For pictures illustrating the story of Perseus and Medusa, click here.
Click here for the first part of the story of Perseus.
Click here for the love story of Perseus and Andromeda. | English | NL | 5cfd3fa8ea57cf5ccbd85572f1a63968fb8fa7a433d6347747dda09ca658ae04 |
The making of Snow white and the seven dwarfs
Introduction to Snow white
The history of animation is fragmentary without mentioning the name of Walt Disney. Disney’s cartoons have been an integral part of our childhood. Even today, whenever the word ‘cartoon’ is mentioned, ‘Disney’ is the first name that comes to one’s mind. Though many others created characters that might have been much better than those that came from the Disney’s studio, there are few immortal one’s that are still etched in our mind. One such character is SNOW WHITE, a nineteenth-century German fairy tale. This character first appeared in the 1812 edition of Grimm’s Fairy Tales written by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. Apart from Snow white, there were other characters like the seven dwarfs the evil stepmother, a huntsman and a prince. Added to these were other props such as a magic mirror, a poisoned apple and a coffin! It can be said that Snow White changed not only the face of animation but the entire history of film making! It was a precursor to many other animated films that Disney and others produced later on.
Introduction to Walt Disney
If anybody has been enthralled by cartoons, the credit for it should surely go to Walt Disney. Though he needs no introduction, a brief account of the struggles behind the making of the first animated film is necessary. He was responsible for giving a wide range of lovable characters to the world. Apart from the many animated feature films he produced in his studio, he is also credited as being the forerunner of many of modern theme parks. Almost everyone would have heard of Disneyland apart from the characters that he created.
Walter Elias Disney, popularly known as Walt Disney, was born in Chicago on December 5, 1901 to Flora Call and Elias Disney. He had three brothers and a sister. His eldest brother Roy later became the CEO of the company that they founded together. Because of financial problems, his family had to keep on moving to different cities. Young Walt was forced to take up hard chores to help the family. Despite all the challenges that were there on the home front, he was always interested in drawing and theatre. However, it was in 1923 that he set out to Hollywood. Along with his brother Roy, he started a small studio at Hyperion Avenue.
Walt Disney’s most famous creation ‘Mickey Mouse’ made his debut in 1928 through the movie ‘Steamboat Willie’. In less than two years, it had become an international celebrity along with Disney’s ‘Silly Symphonies’. The success of the cartoon films made Disney to think about producing feature length animated films. After years of hard work, ‘Snow white and the seven dwarfs,’ was released in 1937 about which we will read in subsequent paragraphs. This was Disney’s first full-length Technicolor animated musical feature film, based on the Grimm Brothers’ work by the same name. During World War II (1939-1945), Disney stopped production of cartoons and movies. Instead, the studio started to produce training and propaganda material for the US army.
Walt Disney’s work lay beyond animated movies. He had the dream of an amusement park. And in 1952, he set up an organization WED enterprises to work on this idea. When ‘Disney Land’ opened on July 17, 1955 at Anaheim, California, it is said that over twenty five thousand guests thronged through the park. Before his demise on December 15, 1966, through his persistence and hard work he had turned all of his dreams into reality. All this was possible by having respect for tradition and willingness to take risks for the new. In short, it was the ability to dream, to endure hardships and persist till achievement of perfection that made Disney stand apart from his contemporaries.
Making of Snow white and the seven dwarfs
The story of Snow White and the seven dwarfs by Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm, revolves around a paragon of beauty young girl, who takes refuge in the forest where seven dwarfs lived, to hide from her savage stepmother, the Queen. The wicked Queen is jealous on Snow White, because the former wants to be the fairest one around, but Snow White’s beauty outshines her. The dwarfs started to love their stranger guest, who proved to be efficient to household work as well. She cleaned the house, cooked food and so on. One day, while the dwarfs were working in their diamond mine, away from the cottage, the Queen in disguise of an old peddler reaches there, and persuades Snow White to bite into an apple, which was poisoned by the witch. The forest animals intimated the dwarfs of the mishap. They rush home only to realize that it’s too late. They place her in a glass coffin in the woods. The Prince, who fell in love with Snow White, grieved by her apparent death, kisses her. To everybody’s surprise this breaks the spell casted by the witch Queen and awakens Snow White. The mood of the story taken a sudden shift for good, and the dwarfs and animals all rejoice, as the Prince takes Snow White to his castle.
It was in June 1934 that Walt Disney announced that his studio would be making its first film. The story development, however, had started earlier that year itself. At that time, the estimated budget for producing it was US$ 2,50,000. This was almost ten times the budget of the Silly Symphonies that Disney had produced earlier. The reason for choosing to make a movie on Snow White is indeed interesting. It is said that it was a live action movie of the same name that Disney had watched in 1916 which was one of the first films he had watched. Also, in Disney’s opinion, dwarfs would make the best cartoon characters and that any forest setting would give a realistic opportunity to animate appealing little birds and animals.
Since it was known at that instant itself that Snow White would be the first cel-animated film, Disney wanted to ensure that each picture had a soft-focus effect on the backgrounds. Also, he wanted the levels of every scene to be properly illuminated.
It took four years to produce and was often ridiculed by one and all as Disney folly. Hollywood pundits were sure that this film would fail and add to the financial woes of the Disney studio. Infact, his older brother Roy and wife Lillian tried to dissuade him from embarking what they felt was a futile and a Herculean task.
But Disney threw all caution to winds and pushed ahead with his dream film. It was a mammoth job. Many techniques like the use of Multiplane camera were developed and tested.
Yet, there were a lot of teething troubles – staff had to be trained, each of the characters had to be drawn and re-drawn, voices had to be synced to the characters etc. The only plus point during this phase was that the popularity of Mickey Mouse grew exponentially.
As 1937 dawned, the budget earmarked for Snow white was blowing out of proportions. Disney himself was forced to take help of the Bank of America so that his dream could materialize. The final cost that Disney incurred was a whopping US$ $14, 88,422.74!! Yet, all waited for that Tuesday evening on the 21st December that year when ‘Snow white and the seven dwarfs’ premiered at the Carthay Circle Theater in Los Angeles.
It is said that as people watched the movie, they sobbed and cheered as they saw the trials and tribulations of Snow White. Interestingly, this film never won any OSCAR! Disney was instead given a honorary one for what was described as ‘A significant screen innovation which has charmed millions and pioneered a great new entertainment field for the motion picture cartoon’.
How was this ordinary boy from Chicago in Illinois able to achieve so much?
In the case of ‘Snow white’, the crew toiled hard to achieve the desired results. The device had four vertical steel posts, each carrying a rack along which as many as eight carriages had to be shifted both horizontally and vertically. Animators worked tirelessly for six months, drawing innumerable pictures so that they could get into the spirit of the various characters they were expected to portray. Sound technicians experimented with odd devices, crashing glass, tumbling boxes to the floor etc. so that the noises could fit the action sequences.
As this was done entirely in cel-animation, an average of twenty-two individual painted cels for each foot of completed picture, a stupendous amount of 1, 66,352 finished paintings were exposed to the camera. They were moved at the rate of ninety feet of film daily through the camera, which required 1,960 paintings every day and thereby represented the world’s biggest and most exacting job of traditional painting and colouring!
Now, as we marvel the tremendous contribution that Disney did for making this film, it is necessary to understand the contributions of those voice artists who struggled hard to get the intonation of the characters. Also, must be mentioned, the roles that each of the animators played so that a film of this stature could be produced that, till this day, is enjoyed by young and old alike.
Thank You for reading!
A team of animation aspirants, studying at Animaster College– the No.1 animation degree training institute in India, cumulated data to bring forth this interesting article to the readers. You may also like INTRO TO VISUAL ARTS, authored by the same team. | English | NL | 87d25a178ec235136d6d300cee57fb016b2a6bae74036923debd439c3bd6c74c |
— Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt you.
1 When He had concluded all His sayings in the hearing of the people, He entered Capernaum.
Not until He was finished with His sermon (the one we’ve been learning about these past few weeks, describing the kingdom of God and that of the world) did Jesus move on. Everything Jesus did was deliberate; the Lord is not spontaneous or reckless as some have portrayed Him. He came in the fulness of time, as the Father had appointed. And when He was ready, had finished His sermon, He entered Capernaum - the same place where He had healed many people and His fame grew because of it. Luke 4:42 & 43 tell us the crowds were searching for Him. But He said to them, “I must proclaim the good news about the kingdom of God to the other towns also, because I was sent for this purpose.” Having preached throughout Galilee, he came back to Capernaum.
2 A centurion’s slave, who was highly valued by him, was sick and about to die. 3 When the centurion heard about Jesus, he sent some Jewish elders to Him, requesting Him to come and save the life of his slave. 4 When they reached Jesus, they pleaded with Him earnestly, saying, “He is worthy for You to grant this, 5 because he loves our nation and has built us a synagogue.”
The centurion in the Roman army was about what a company commander is in ours. These were men known to be responsible and honorable. This un-named centurion had a household slave who was ill unto death. This was a valuable person and this man who had healed so many in this town a few weeks or months ago was back. He could heal this slave!
This centurion was highly regarded by the local Jewish leaders. When he heard Jesus was in town, he sent the Jewish elders to Him; every translation I looked at uses that word, sent. He issued an order, sent the men and they obeyed. These men were accustomed to giving orders, under the guise of advice, to the Jewish people. This Gentile had built them a synagogue and they went when he sent them. They were familiar with a system of being lords and having the Roman government be lord over them. So they went, and spoke to Jesus on his account.
Note the message they spoke to Jesus about the man who sent them: “He is worthy for You to grant this, 5 because he loves our nation and has built us a synagogue.” This is how the world determines a man's worth - what have you done for me lately? Jews had virtually nothing to do with Gentiles. Their law did require the same treatment for Gentiles who joined with Israel as for the Jews themselves. And while our text tells us this Gentile loved the nation and built them a synagogue, we have nothing telling us he joined with them as a covenant member.
When King Cyrus issued the proclamation to rebuild the temple in Jerusalem, he was highly favored by the Jews, but not part of their covenant community. When King Artaxerxes issued the orders that facilitated the rebuilding of the wall around Jerusalem, he was highly favored by the Jews, but not part of their covenant community.
This centurion loved Israel and demonstrated it. In our day, his name would be on building on the campus of a large "church" or on the pew of smaller one, because far too many Christians think the same way these Jewish elders did, honoring men for the kingdom work that God is doing. Our goal should be to be forgotten by all but our family and the Lord and for His name to be exalted by all! The Jewish worldview was based on the idea that wealth and health revealed God's favor. This man had their attention, they felt indebted to him. And to be clear, we are taught that love without evidence thereof is not biblical love, just as faith without works is not saving faith. When love is expressed in tangible ways, we should thank God for what He is doing, thank the person He is working through, but resist the urge to bestow honor on the creature that rightly belongs to the Creator. This was the error of the Jewish elders in our text – they failed to see Jesus for Who he is; and they saw more in the centurion than was there.
But we see that he put more stock in this man Jesus, which the Jewish hated, than he did in the nation of Israel. His slave was ill and he wanted Jesus, not the elders. This is a key point: When life is hard and when life is good, we need Jesus, not our favorite preacher. A faithful preacher will preach Christ and Him crucified, because only Jesus can do poor sinners good. This man wanted Jesus.
Our centurion would benefit by his slave being healed; we have no reason to believe that was his only motive. Slaves in the Roman military would be baggage handlers or camp assistants. During this time, Seneca was beginning to advocate for humane treatment of slaves, believing that well treated slaves would work better than those who were treated badly. Based on what we see in this passage about this centurion, it’s safe to say he was concerned about the welfare of this man who was his slave. And he wanted this man who was well known as a healer to heal him. The elders petitioned Jesus to come, and we see that He did.
6 Jesus went with them, and when He was not far from the house, the centurion sent friends to tell Him, “Lord, don’t trouble Yourself, since I am not worthy to have You come under my roof. 7 That is why I didn’t even consider myself worthy to come to You.
People who rightly see the Lord and His Christ will see themselves more clearly. John fell down as one dead when the Lord Jesus appeared to him on Patmos in a vision. When Peter saw all the fish in the boat and realized Jesus was Lord over creation, he said, "Depart from me for I am a sinful man." The man who sees Christ clearly will be broken over his own sin. If someone doesn’t see his sin for what it is, if the focus is on the sin of others, he has not seen Christ aright.
Whatever this centurion had heard about Jesus, he understood enough to know He was not a mere man, as he was himself. Receiving someone into your house was an act of grace, accepting responsibility for the care and safety of the guest. Consider when a commoner is accepted to enter the house of the king. The greater condescends to protect and care for the lesser; as David did with Mephibosheth. This Gentile recognized he was the lesser; not the greater. He was not worthy of having of having this man who healed people in his house.
He was not worthy of even going to Him! A person does not approach a king with being bidden. To do so is to invite death. We see this in Esther 4:11 “All the royal officials and the people of the royal provinces know that one law applies to every man or woman who approaches the king in the inner courtyard and who has not been summoned—⌊the⌋ death ⌊penalty⌋. Only if the king extends the gold scepter will that person live.” Such was reverence common people had for kings. Such was the reverence this centurion had for the King of kings.
Isaiah was a prophet called by God to proclaim His Word to Israel. He saw the veil pulled back a little, got a glimpse of the thrice holy Creator and Judge of all flesh. And he was undone. Those being called by God will be broken when they fall upon that Rock. He will bind every wound of every sheep He brings into His sheepfold. Let us learn from this Gentile centurion - we are unworthy to have the God-man in our presence. We are not worthy to be in His presence. But at His Word, we come to Him and are healed. Let not conscience make you linger, nor of fitness fondly dream. The only fitness He requires is that you feel your need of Him. This He gives you! The centurion knew He needed Jesus, and Jesus came.
But say the word, and my servant will be cured. 8 For I too am a man placed under authority, having soldiers under my command. I say to this one, ‘Go!’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come!’ and he comes; and to my slave, ‘Do this!’ and he does it.”
In a song of deliverance, the children of Israel sang out the truth of the power of God's word. Psalm 107:19-20 Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble; He saved them from their distress. He sent His word and healed them; He rescued them from the Pit. Contrary to the nature of gods made by humans, YHWH does not need to touch in order to do. Contrary to those gods which are not Gods, YHWH needs nothing human hands can do. He spoke and everything that is created was created. Say the word, Creator God in human flesh, and my servant will be healed.
This Gentile had more trust in the Messiah from Nazareth than did those who were raised up under and taught the oracles of God. Both the Jews and the centurion had heard the reports of the healing that Jesus performed last time He was in town. The Jewish elders that were friends with the centurion didn't appear to be interested in the Messiah - they wanted to honor their benefactor. But the Gentile had a problem, he wanted something these Jewish elders could not grant him. And his military training served him well in this regard.
Discipline and obedience are keystones of the military, without which it could not function. In our military, lawful orders must be followed; in ancient Rome, ALL orders had to be followed. This centurion knew how to issue and follow orders. He had been taught to trust the chain of command and the system used to get critical messages to where they were needed. With messengers running to and fro, people in the Roman army rarely saw the one giving the orders - they obeyed what was told them without seeing the superior. His entire career was based on orders being given and obeyed, not doubting, only trusting; with the evidence of the signet ring stamped in wax.
We would call this faith. Hebrews 11:1 (KJV) Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. The centurion said, "Say the word and my servant will be healed." The substance of things hoped for - not as the world hopes about winning the lottery. Hope in that which cannot fail. Trust is hope put to use. Faith is also the evidence of things not seen. The centurion had heard much evidence, he trusted in this man about whom he had heard much. And he did more than wish for healing; he sought out the Healer and asked Him to say a word.
Hebrews 11:6 (HCSB) Now without faith it is impossible to please God, for the one who draws near to Him must believe that He exists and rewards those who seek Him. Those whom God calls, come to Him, often without realizing they’ve been called until they see in Scripture that no one can come to Christ unless the Father draws him (John 6:44). Those who seek God have been drawn by Him, believe on Him; and He rewards them - grants them life eternal and provides the Holy Spirit. Man, in his natural state, has not this saving faith and cannot be pleasing to God. The centurion must have had this kind of faith – see how the Savior responded to him!
9 Jesus heard this and was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd following Him, He said, “I tell you, I have not found so great a faith even in Israel!”
It’s fascinating to read how Jesus responds to various people who come to Him in faith. We’ll look at two.
To Nathaniel: Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no deceit! (John 1:47) For a man to have no deceit in his mouth, no guile, is to be without hypocrisy, not doubting about the Lord. This is the man described in Psalm 32:1&2 Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man against whom the LORD counts no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit. This man does not claim to be without sin; but, like Job, he admits he is sinful and casts himself on holy God. In Job 9:20, after being counseled by his friends, Job declared himself to be righteous, yet condemned by his own mouth, blameless yet perverse in God’s sight. The more mature in Christ we are, the more we will be without deceit, without thinking of self too highly.
To Thomas, Jesus said: Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed. Thomas is a type for us: it’s easy to grow dissatisfied with what God has revealed to us and we want more! This is the same discontent Eve suffered. If you believe in Christ, be content with what He has revealed to us! If there be things you or I think are important truths but they are not found in the Scripture, we need to repent! Our faith in Christ will be evidenced by our lives of obedience to what He has told us, even if it goes against what we've been taught from our youth regarding these things.
The centurion saw himself and the Lord rightly and desired nothing more than healing. No sensationalism, no personal glory, no bragging rights. So many in Israel demanded signs. Not this Gentile. He wanted a word from Jesus. Think about that.
10 When those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the slave in good health.
Herein we see the difference between the divine and the carnal. When Word of Faith heretics claim to have healed people, there’s a distinct lack of supporting evidence. Was the person in the wheelchair really crippled? None of the highly publicized “healings” claimed by these people has been verified. These charades take place in protected venues where no hostiles are allowed. When the Son of Man went through Capernaum healing all sorts of people with all sorts of ailments, countless saw and all who knew the healed people knew this Man had done something no one else could. When Jesus healed, it was public, in full view of those who wanted to kill him. Recall the man blind from birth. No doubt about his condition or identity or healing. Recall the fear of man his parents were under:
John 9:18-23 The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight, until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?” His parents answered, “We know that this is our son and that he was born blind. But how he now sees we do not know, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.” (His parents said these things because they feared the Jews, for the Jews had already agreed that if anyone should confess Jesus to be Christ, he was to be put out of the synagogue.) Therefore his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.”
This fear of man works both ways. In this context, the common folk were in fear of the religious leaders and the religious leaders were believing they were worthy of this fear, which they took as adoration. This is why the Jewish elders took no thought about approaching Jesus on behalf of the centurion – they were the noble religious leaders and this man was a commoner, though well thought of by the common folk. They thought too much of themselves and too little of the God-man.
This is the theme throughout Scripture: There are two kingdoms, two peoples. The kingdom of this world will always try to bring God down so man can see himself as lifted up. The kingdom of God will always lift the Lord Jesus as God so man will see himself as lowly. We are not worthy, apart from His redeeming grace, to draw near to God. We are not worthy, apart from the salvation that is Christ alone for Him to come to our house. But those He predestined, He called. And those He called, He justified; and those He justified, He has glorified. He draws us to be close Him and He makes us His house! It’s a far, far better deal than trying to make ourselves righteous and build a house for Him. For He does not dwell in houses built by human hands as if He had need of anything human hands could do for Him.
Application: Not all who call Jesus Lord are His children. Not all who want healing are citizens of God's kingdom. BUT - no one can truly say "Jesus is Lord" except by the Spirit of God; all who are children of God know Christ as Lord. Every citizen of God's kingdom will be healed, when He returns to make all things new.
Do you see Him as the glorified Son of God, seated at the right hand of God the Father? Are you secure in the knowledge that His blood was shed for you and that you are welcome in the beloved?
Self-love is a sign of the perilous times in which we live. 2 Tim 3:1&2 But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy. The list goes on; the point is clear: those who love self are on a pathway to eternal doom. Rather than love self, we are to see ourselves as unworthy servants and love Him Who loved us first.
The citizen of the kingdom of this world lives focused on serving self - do I look good to others, am I well thought of, do I have enough stuff? The citizen of the kingdom of God is focused on being obedient to God as revealed in His Word, bring glory to God in his body (thoughts, speech, actions). Paul summed it up this way: Romans 6:16&22 (HCSB) Don’t you know that if you offer yourselves to someone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of that one you obey—either of sin leading to death or of obedience leading to righteousness? But now, since you have been liberated from sin and have become enslaved to God, you have your fruit, which results in sanctification—and the end is eternal life!
Each one of us who are of Christ's sheepfold will fall into sin from time-to-time; our lives are marked by spiritual warfare. He has given us to one another to teach, reproof, rebuke, weep together, and rejoice together. Christian fellowship is a vital part of our lives as slaves of righteousness.
This is the call we find Paul and Jude alluding to as they refer to themselves as slaves of Christ. Jude, a slave of Jesus Christ and a brother of James: To those who are the called, loved by God the Father and kept by Jesus Christ. Slaves can be sent. Slaves are not worthy of the king's honor, slaves see their lord rightly. Our nature is to be a slave to our fleshly desires. If you are called by God, if you are in Christ, His call is to be a slave to righteousness.
We are unworthy of His redeeming grace, yet He is the faithful One in Whom we can trust.
Come, ye weary, heavy laden,
Bruised and broken by the fall
If you tarry 'til you're better
You will never come at all
Not the righteous, not the righteous
Sinners Jesus came to call
Lo! The Incarnate God, ascended
Pleads the merit of His blood
Venture on Him, venture wholly
Let no other trust intrude
None but Jesus, none but Jesus
Can do helpless sinners good | English | NL | 3adf21e8f3e4c2e49dea16eb0333656e8f482d7772170f6ff480a78afc9f7ffc |
My Wife Is a Beautiful CEO - Chapter 369
The Distressed Hui Lin
The drama-like experience that night made Yang Chen lose courage to look at Lin Ruoxi in the face the next morning during breakfast.
It wasn’t because Yang Chen was shy. He just felt that he was acting rather childish, not to mention that his plan failed! How embarrassing.
Lin Ruoxi on the other hand, acted like nothing happened. She minded her own business as she slowly chewed her food, which was the only good thing about an iceberg, whose emotions were always unclear. No one could tell that something went wrong.
Hui Lin was most gloomy and nervous. Sitting in between them, she couldn’t look left nor right.
Yang Chen had touched her body last night and kissed her on her ear, which caused her body to heat up for the entire night. Her heart had been uneasy, which rendered her unable to fall asleep.
She had stayed by Abbess Yun Miao’s side since young. She even planned to become a nun for the rest of her life. However, her plans went out the window when she was forced to live in this house by her grandmother, and asked to get close to Yang Chen to accomplish her marriage…
Originally, Hui Lin didn’t have any intentions to get between Yang Chen and Lin Ruoxi, since they had interacted rather well. However, due to recent events, she found it increasingly difficult to practice her self control.
At the end of the day, she had received an education which emphasized mainly on the traditional mindset of things. Her body had never been touched, not even by a man’s finger, but she got kissed, hugged, and felt up last night. It was impossible for her to just dismiss it.
But, that man is my brother-in-law…
Distressed, Hui Lin lost the appetite to eat breakfast. She merely had a few mouthfuls of porridge before putting her bowl and chopsticks down.
Wang Ma saw what she did and asked, “Hui Lin, are you not feeling well? Why are you eating so little?”
Hui Lin quickly shook her head. “No, Wang Ma, it’s just that I’m not very hungry. I’m alright.”
“Oh…” Wang Ma nodded, unconvinced. She knew that most young people have things they are troubled about one way or another, so she didn’t follow up with more questions.
As Hui Lin squirmed uncomfortably on her chair, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll go open the door!”
Hui Lin found an escape route. She immediately ran towards the door before opening it for the visitor.
Yang Chen looked at Lin Ruoxi, only to find her ice-cold gaze at his direction.
Yang Chen scratched his nose. He felt that it was best to avoid looking at her for now. He wanted to wait for a week at least for her to slightly defrost.
“Who is it at the door so early in the morning?” Wang Ma asked.
Yang Chen shrugged. “Someone might be here again to visit for the new year.”
Hui Lin slowly opened the door. The smile on her face instantly vanished upon seeing the people outside while her eyes revealed astonishment.
There stood two old people outside the door. More accurately, there was an old man and an elderly lady who appeared to be his maid.
The old man wore a red, thick Chinese suit and pants made with coarse cloth in addition to a pair of black and white handmade cloth shoes. Numerous age spots and kind wrinkles could be seen on his face. He seemed to have a slight stumped posture, or it may just be his below average height which caused him to look skinny and small.
The old woman behind him was wearing a cotton-made, grey clothing from the olden times of the Republic of China. She looked friendly as well. Her hair had fully whitened, but she looked surprisingly energetic.
The old man looked at Hui Lin as if she was his granddaughter. He smiled which caused more wrinkles to appear on his face. Looking at Hui Lin from head to toe, he said, “You must be the from the Lin clan. You’re all grown up already.”
Hui Lin took a double take to make sure that she recognised this man correctly. Quickly, she took three steps back and bowed down strictly and excitedly. She bowed down twice, forming a right angle around her waist.
“Cha—chairman! Nice to meet you!”
Hui Lin’s strange actions attracted the attention of the three people inside. Why did this kid suddenly bow down? Who are the visitors?
The old man waved his hand. Humbly, he said, “I have given up that post for awhile now, your actions are not necessary. I came here quite early in the morning, I hope I haven’t disrupted your breakfast now, have I?”
“We’re actually still eating… Oh, no, no, no! We—we’re not disturbed!” Hui Lin almost told the truth, which made her so nervous that she didn’t know what to say.
The old man laughed. “Don’t be nervous. I’m not a human-eating, old monster.”
How am I supposed to stay calm? Since young, I could only remember having met this man thrice, all three times behind my grandma’s back. But there’s no way that i would have forgotten his look.
He’s one of the few people, who are descendants of the founding fathers of China, who were the reason China became so developed!
Leaving other things aside, although Hui Lin hadn’t gone back to Beijing frequently since she stayed at Emei Mountain, solely based on the occasional description of Abbess Yun Miao, Hui Lin knew how powerful this old man was.
Within the Central Bureau today, except the chairman himself, almost everyone had some form of relationship or connection to this man, let alone the other ministerial officers. It wasn’t too far a stretch to say that one in three ministers was willing to call the old man ‘Master’.
Although the Lin clan was a well-established clan in Beijing, when compared to the clan built by this old man, it could only be considered a second-class one.
When this old man was still in power, even without the aid of the internet, social media and the television, he was still widely recognised and admired by many, many people!
Unfortunately, he was from a different generation after all. When this old man abdicated as the chairman, very few young people remembered him. At most, the ones who did could, only vaguely recalled the shape of his face.
Since Hui Lin wasn’t born and bred from the outside world, and instead was an inexperienced, naive little kid, she naturally got frightened and nervous upon seeing the true, behind-the-scene leader of the country.
“I’m older than your grandpa by quite a number of years, but we’re still considered as the same generation. If you can’t think of what to refer me as, just call me Grandpa Yang,” Yang Gongming said with a smile when he noticed Hui Lin’s confused look.
Softly, Hui Lin answered, “Yes, Grandpa Yang.”
Hui Lin was initially nervous about Yang Gongming’s sudden arrival. The more she thought about it, she assumed that he wanted to fight for his grandson Yang Lie. As a result, she looked at Yang Chen beside the dining table as she felt worried.
Unexpectedly, Yang Gongming smilingly walked towards Yang Chen. Politely, he said, “Pay me no mind. Enjoy your breakfast. I was just impatient to come over, not to mention the elderly people usually wake up early anyway, so as a result, I came here quite early. We can chat after you finish eating.”
Yang Chen had a sensitive hearing. He heard Hui Lin call him ‘chairman’. When he thought about it more carefully, the person whom the granddaughter of the Lin clan had to pay such respect to could only be the largest head of the Central Committee.
This position was not unlike the president in the United States. Although he wasn’t as prominent as the prime minister, he had always been the person setting the overall plans of the country.
However, Yang Chen didn’t recognize this old man although he frequently watched the news. He then concluded that the old man should be a retired committee head.
Why wouldn’t Yang Chen know who the old man was, especially when he was referred to as ‘Grandpa Yang’?
Yang Chen smiled bitterly as he looked at the smiley, thick-skinned old man who was minding his own business admiring the decor of the villa. There was nowhere Yang Chen could hide.
Yang Chen felt that it was already quite surprising that his father was the commander of a military region. However, his grandfather was actually someone who used to lead the country.
I hadn’t seen or heard a peep from my family in the twenty over years I have lived. Now that I’ve returned to the country for one year, why are there so many VIPs related to me appearing out of nowhere?
Lin Ruoxi watched Yang Gongming with curious eyes for a while. Soon, she managed to recognize who the old man was, let alone Wang Ma who was much older than her.
Wang Ma who lacked bravery didn’t dare to continue eating. After looking around for abit, she used the excuse of boiling hot water in the kitchen to slip away.
Lin Ruoxi pondered for a while. She was aware of Yang Gongming’s origin. In addition to Yang Lie’s incident a few days ago and Yang Chen’s reaction, Lin Ruoxi had a feeling that this VIP had a significant relation with Yang Chen.
However, the more she thought about it, the more she found it ridiculous!
They’re both surnamed Yang. Is it possible that… such a man is a member of the strongest clan in China?!
You must be kidding me. Wouldn’t that make him a prince of some sort?
Lin Ruoxi secretly gazed upon Yang Chen. He’s not much different than when he was still selling mutton skewers. | English | NL | d99289f454d6da1dc47aa24cede4b75791476d4b454ac9b64ae8468928eafa3e |
Star Mage | The Enslaved Chronicles: Book 3
Some magic should be forbidden.
Reunited safely in Panar, Miara, Aven, and their friends have conquered more obstacles than they thought possible. The Akarian Assembly has accepted Aven and his magic—and Miara as his queen. But the problems for Akaria and its freemages are only beginning. One ally has vanished. Another teeters on the edge of death. And a third will face a choice between duty and love.
Meanwhile, the Dark Master has marshalled the combined power of Mage Hall and Kavanar’s army. He’s closer than ever before to his goals: destroy the star mage and his magic, recapture those who’ve escaped, and seize all of Akaria for himself.
With the true, terrible potential of magic unleashed, no one can predict what destruction will be wrought. The struggle for the freedom of mage slaves culminates in all-out war in this third and final volume of the Enslaved Chronicles.
Buy your copy now from your favorite retailer. Available in ebook, paperback, audiobook, and hardcover.
Chapter 1: Searching
Wincing, coughing, gasping, he struggled to roll to his left, go forward, to get up in some way that hopefully didn’t crush the person beneath him any further.
He shook his head, trying to clear it, and finally turned out the inside of his tunic and wiped his eyes. The room came into slow focus. A gaping hole in the tower yawned a few yards from his feet. Nearly two floors had been cut into by the bombardment, or had collapsed afterward, and rubble was everywhere. Beyond the chasm, the rest of the chamber they’d met in remained but was now empty. Something bizarrely like thunder followed by brief bouts of sharp rain fell in the distance, like a brief moment of hail that ended as soon as it had begun. Strange. Blinking to clear his eyes, he peered back at the hole he’d climbed out of.
A young woman sat in the cavity, equally bleary-eyed and coughing but clearly alive. Was that his handiwork, or was it luck? Her dress had been poor protection against the stone onslaught, its white now tinged to the pale color of bone, the thin gauze ripped in several places. Was that blood? Hair still a shade of near white fell in dramatic curls around her sharp, angular features and expressive, kohl-lined eyes.
She would be attractive if she weren’t a traitor. The priestess Niat. He refused to let himself think amorously of anyone of her moral fabric; the mind was a thousand times more important than the corporeal form.
He stepped forward and held out a hand to help her up. She squinted and frowned at him but accepted, stumbling to her feet. Temple sandals were also of little practical use against the rocky terrain she now found herself in, but then again, she hadn’t been planning on a hike, now had she?
She stumbled against him, and he caught her, just barely. Apparently they were both due some good luck because when Thel ran toward a falling person, the poor soul usually ended up sprawled on the floor. Years of combat training had given him little grace and only moderate reflexes. Oh, he wasn’t half bad when he was paying attention. But he usually wasn’t. His thoughts were often elsewhere.
That training had afforded him some strength, however much less than his brothers, and now he lifted her out of the depression they’d been trapped in and set her on her feet on the open floor behind him. Then he carefully stepped down and around her, hoping not to send either of them stumbling into the nearby gaping chasm by mistake.
He tried to meet her eyes, but she stared up at the sky, openmouthed. They hadn’t been under there that long, had they? He followed her gaze.
Above them, a dozen stones of various sizes floated in air. Most were pieces of the masonry that had once been the walls of the tower, jagged and angular, not like the boulders he’d imagined, and yet it had worked. Curious. The visualization did not have to be quite perfect, apparently. Yes, he was finally learning a little.
He glanced back at Niat, only now to find her staring wide-eyed at him. The expression was a bit crazed. What, floating stone was more terrifying than nearly being crushed to death? His eyes caught on something on the side of her hip.
“Why is your dress glowing?” he asked.
She glanced down at her hip, then back at him, narrowing her eyes. “Mage,” she hissed, like an insult, an accusation.
He raised his eyebrows. “What does—” he started, hoping to ask again about her glowing hip, but in his distraction, he released some part of himself that was still connected to the stones.
He realized his error almost immediately as her gaze darted up.
Without looking—there was no time for that—he threw an arm around her and swept her a foot to the side and against him.
“Get your—” she started.
A piece of masonry crashed into the spot where she’d stood, and she gaped, eyes wide as the dust swirled up and caught in the wind, reminding him just how high up they were.
“—hands off me, mage,” she finally finished, pushing him away.
He glared at her, then rolled his eyes. “You’re the one that distracted me. A simple ‘thanks’ would have sufficed, but I suppose your kind words will have to do.” | English | NL | 6ea8b246b2970d0a5dd633174e8add0f64bc56cfe356060b24d41977f9f99934 |
In 2015, large packs of discs which may have been DVDs were present, along with packs of what were possibly Blu-ray discs and laserdiscs, in the alleyway where Emmett Brown and Marty McFly landed the DeLorean time machine before executing their plan to clear Marty McFly Jr.'s name. Whether these discs were being thrown away or shipped to be sold is unclear. Some of the discs may also have been compact discs, which were the same size, and were just starting to replace vinyl records in 1985.
Behind the scenes
- Although films were being released on DVD as early as 1996 in Japan, with the movie Twister (whose producers included Steven Spielberg and Kathleen Kennedy), special features such as audio commentary were not a feature in the early years of the technology. It was not until 2002 that the long-awaited release of the Back to the Future trilogy took place. The trilogy was later re-released on DVD in 2010, and then again in 2015, with a short film entitled Doc Brown Saves the World.
- Back to the Future Part II (large stacks of optical disc media were in the alleyway) | English | NL | e0f5371c55431270c98dd7b77f31e5c8cb42bdb02b6408a74a8c7a1d7e6e3843 |
While in graduate school, a psychology professor asked the class to draw a line across the middle of the paper. He asked us to write down, above the line, three people that have helped shape who we are — that have helped us feel good about who we are. He also asked to list three names below the line, that have negatively contributed to how we see ourselves.
The purpose of the exercise was to reflect on the way that people “coached” us from an “above the line” perspective.
Coach Tom Osborne is an above the line coach — for tens-of-thousands of men and women. His deep care for others is apparent in the way he conducts his life — and his life efforts.
Thomas William “Tom” Osborne (born February 23, 1937) is a former American football player, coach, college athletics administrator, and politician from Nebraska. He served as the head football coach at the University of Nebraska football team for 25 years, from 1973 to 1997. Osborne was one of the most successful coaches in American college football history, with a career record of 255–49–3, 13 conference championships, and three national championships. He was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame as a coach in 1999.
Osborne was later elected U.S. Representative from Nebraska’s 3rd congressional district, as a Republican. He served three terms, from 2001 to 2007. In 2007, he returned to the University of Nebraska as athletic director (AD). He retired as AD in January 2013.
He lives a life of love and purpose — and is deeply devoted to his faith, his wife and children, and the service of mentoring others. You can learn about Coach Osborne’s mission at TeamMates.org.
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In This Episode:
- Why he got into athletics
- Getting his start with the Nebraska football program
- Re-designing the offense and becoming the eventual head coach
- Being a driven person and always needing to be in the action
- Moving from transactional leadership to transformational leadership
- Way he coached his players
- Formulating a philosophy with his coaching staff
- Cost of success at a major college football program
- How he’s trying to grow his new foundation
- The idea of service and how it’s guided his life
- The role fear of failure played in his life | English | NL | c187b642188fc26b5217bea614e1874887b2f3de88bf64a7b61973d3c8d2389d |
Women who reported feeling more stressed during their ovulatory window were approximately 40 per cent less likely to conceive during that month than other less stressful months.
"These findings add more evidence to a very limited body of research investigating whether perceived stress can affect fertility. The results imply that women who wish to conceive may increase their chances by taking active steps towards stress reduction such as exercising, enrolling in a stress management programme or talking to a health professional," said Kira Taylor, researcher at the University of Louisville, US.
In the study, 400 women who were 40-years-old and younger and were sexually active recorded their daily stress levels measured on a scale from one to four (low to high).
The diaries also contained information regarding menstruation, intercourse, contraception, alcohol, caffeine and smoking. Urine samples were also collected and women were followed until they became pregnant or until the study ended for an average of eight menstrual cycles.
Researchers in the study published in the journal Annals of Epidemiology calculated mean stress levels during each phase of the menstrual cycle, with day 14 as the estimated time of ovulation.
They found the negative effect of stress on fertility was only observed during the ovulatory window, and was true after adjustments for other factors like age, body mass index, alcohol use and frequency of intercourse.
The study also found that women who did conceive experienced an increase in stress at the end of the month in which they became pregnant. Taylor concluded that this could be the result of two factors -- women became stressed after taking a home pregnancy test and learning they were pregnant, or most likely the increased stress was the result of changes in hormone levels caused by pregnancy itself.
"Some individuals are skeptical that emotional and psychological attributes may be instrumental in affecting fertility," Taylor added. | English | NL | 80ed86133aeaaa796d32f2c4120aeaded1b4c0b04aaffb61c082d563ff9ced38 |
1Now it was after this that Absalom the son of David had a beautiful sister whose name was Tamar, and Amnon the son of David loved her. 2Amnon was so frustrated because of his sister Tamar that he made himself ill, for she was a virgin, and it seemed hard to Amnon to do anything to her. 3But Amnon had a friend whose name was Jonadab, the son of Shimeah, David’s brother; and Jonadab was a very shrewd man. 4He said to him, “O son of the king, why are you so depressed morning after morning? Will you not tell me?” Then Amnon said to him, “I am in love with Tamar, the sister of my brother Absalom.” 5Jonadab then said to him, “Lie down on your bed and pretend to be ill; when your father comes to see you, say to him, ‘Please let my sister Tamar come and give me [some] food to eat, and let her prepare the food in my sight, that I may see [it] and eat from her hand.’” 6So Amnon lay down and pretended to be ill; when the king came to see him, Amnon said to the king, “Please let my sister Tamar come and make me a couple of cakes in my sight, that I may eat from her hand.” 7Then David sent to the house for Tamar, saying, “Go now to your brother Amnon’s house, and prepare food for him.” 8So Tamar went to her brother Amnon’s house, and he was lying down. And she took dough, kneaded [it], made cakes in his sight, and baked the cakes. 9She took the pan and dished [them] out before him, but he refused to eat. And Amnon said, “Have everyone go out from me.” So everyone went out from him. 10Then Amnon said to Tamar, “Bring the food into the bedroom, that I may eat from your hand.” So Tamar took the cakes which she had made and brought them into the bedroom to her brother Amnon. 11When she brought [them] to him to eat, he took hold of her and said to her, “Come, lie with me, my sister.” 12But she answered him, “No, my brother, do not violate me, for such a thing is not done in Israel; do not do this disgraceful thing! 13As for me, where could I get rid of my reproach? And as for you, you will be like one of the fools in Israel. Now therefore, please speak to the king, for he will not withhold me from you.” 14However, he would not listen to her; since he was stronger than she, he violated her and lay with her. 15Then Amnon hated her with a very great hatred; for the hatred with which he hated her was greater than the love with which he had loved her. And Amnon said to her, “Get up, go away!” 16But she said to him, “No, because this wrong in sending me away is greater than the other that you have done to me!” Yet he would not listen to her. 17Then he called his young man who attended him and said, “Now throw this woman out of my [presence], and lock the door behind her.” 18Now she had on a long-sleeved garment; for in this manner the virgin daughters of the king dressed themselves in robes. Then his attendant took her out and locked the door behind her. 19Tamar put ashes on her head and tore her long-sleeved garment which [was] on her; and she put her hand on her head and went away, crying aloud as she went. 20Then Absalom her brother said to her, “Has Amnon your brother been with you? But now keep silent, my sister, he is your brother; do not take this matter to heart.” So Tamar remained and was desolate in her brother Absalom’s house. 21Now when King David heard of all these matters, he was very angry. 22But Absalom did not speak to Amnon either good or bad; for Absalom hated Amnon because he had violated his sister Tamar. 23Now it came about after two full years that Absalom had sheepshearers in Baal-hazor, which is near Ephraim, and Absalom invited all the king’s sons. 24Absalom came to the king and said, “Behold now, your servant has sheepshearers; please let the king and his servants go with your servant.” 25But the king said to Absalom, “No, my son, we should not all go, for we will be burdensome to you.” Although he urged him, he would not go, but blessed him. 26Then Absalom said, “If not, please let my brother Amnon go with us.” And the king said to him, “Why should he go with you?” 27But when Absalom urged him, he let Amnon and all the king’s sons go with him. 28Absalom commanded his servants, saying, “See now, when Amnon’s heart is merry with wine, and when I say to you, ‘Strike Amnon,’ then put him to death. Do not fear; have not I myself commanded you? Be courageous and be valiant.” 29The servants of Absalom did to Amnon just as Absalom had commanded. Then all the king’s sons arose and each mounted his mule and fled. 30Now it was while they were on the way that the report came to David, saying, “Absalom has struck down all the king’s sons, and not one of them is left.” 31Then the king arose, tore his clothes and lay on the ground; and all his servants were standing by with clothes torn. 32Jonadab, the son of Shimeah, David’s brother, responded, “Do not let my lord suppose they have put to death all the young men, the king’s sons, for Amnon alone is dead; because by the intent of Absalom this has been determined since the day that he violated his sister Tamar. 33Now therefore, do not let my lord the king take the report to heart, namely, ‘all the king’s sons are dead,’ for only Amnon is dead.” 34Now Absalom had fled. And the young man who was the watchman raised his eyes and looked, and behold, many people were coming from the road behind him by the side of the mountain. 35Jonadab said to the king, “Behold, the king’s sons have come; according to your servant’s word, so it happened.” 36As soon as he had finished speaking, behold, the king’s sons came and lifted their voices and wept; and also the king and all his servants wept very bitterly. 37Now Absalom fled and went to Talmai the son of Ammihud, the king of Geshur. And [David] mourned for his son every day. 38So Absalom had fled and gone to Geshur, and was there three years. 39[The heart of] King David longed to go out to Absalom; for he was comforted concerning Amnon, since he was dead. | English | NL | 46f967c2fb4df3791a99681a4bf32f1d7d3830926c0ca78df69c3199379f667c |
When I was little my mother told me about the time she and her friends climbed up to a beer billboard and threw snowballs at people passing by. Not long after I heard the story a huge billboard of Tom Selleck went up in Times Square. He was dressed in a cowboy hat and a tuxedo and grinned out at me from a red sports car with a Chaz license plate. I wanted to climb up there, not to throw snowballs but just to sit. Alas, neither my mother nor I could find a way to climb up and I figured the police were a lot more observant now than they had been when my mom was a kid. Reluctantly I surrendered my fantasy of sitting next to Tom Selleck.
Fast forward to Labor Day forty years later. I was seated in the American First Class Lounge awaiting my flight from LAX to JFK. Flipping idly through the LA Times I looked up when I heard a familiar voice. Tom Selleck had entered the lounge and taken a seat not ten feet from me. My heart banged; maybe I would get a chance to talk to him and this time, really do it.
See, I had had chances to talk to him before; his television series about Las Vegas shot on Jamie’s lot and whenever I was there I would ask casually whether they were on set that day. Jamie answered every query with a scowl that would have melted the abominable snowman, so I never visited the set.
One afternoon I asked Jamie’s close friend Robert Santoro, a Teamster captain who worked on the show, what Mr. Selleck was like. He assured me that he was very nice and wouldn’t mind signing an autograph for my mother and me. At that Jamie raised one eyebrow. “She won’t get the opportunity to find out,” he stated firmly, facing Robert but really talking to me. “He is on this lot to work not to entertain fans.” As he returned to the papers stacked on his desk, I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue like Lucy Ricardo and instead looked sadly at Robert. He shrugged helplessly.
Well, today was the day to test Robert’s hypothesis. Since Mr. Selleck was not here to work and he wasn’t with his family, I would see just how nice he was. I dug in my purse for a pen and a scrap of paper and approached him. Planting myself directly in front of him, I “ahem”med loudly. He raised his eyes over his reading glasses.
“Mr. Selleck,” I began. “My mom and I have had a crush on you since you were the Chaz man. May I please have your autograph for her?”
He smiled slightly and reached up. “What is your mother’s name?” he asked kindly. I told him. He wrote then handed me the paper.
I accepted it then said, “You know, when I was a little girl there was a billboard of you in Times Square. It was the last shot in the commercial where you roped cows . . .”
“Steer. They’re not cows, they’re steer.”
“Oh. Okay, steer. Then you showered and dressed in a tux and climbed into that red Corvette. . . ”
“It was a Ferrari.”
I squinted at him. “Really?”
“Well, I guess you can tell I grew up in New York and know nothing about either cows or cars.”
He smiled then turned as his name was called. His escort had arrived to take him to his flight.
“Well, ‘bye,” I said. “Thank you.”
He nodded, hoisted his brown leather bag, and turned away.
I looked at my watch and realized that I should get ready to walk to the boarding gate, too. I slipped the autograph into my tote bag and headed for the ladies’ room.
Within about ten minutes I was boarding my plane. Flashing my boarding pass for seat 1A at the flight attendant I turned right and saw Tom Selleck sitting in 1 B.
“Hi Mr. Selleck!” I exclaimed.
He looked up from his script and peered over his reading glasses. “Hey, it’s Corvette Girl,” he smiled.
I tossed my carry on in the overhead bin and couldn’t stop myself from giggling as I plopped into the window seat.
“What is so funny?” my seat mate asked.
I told him about my childhood dream about climbing the Chaz billboard and sitting next to him high above Times Square.
He laughed. “Well, today you will be higher in the air than the billboard was,” he observed.
I looked at his script. “Is that the new cop show you are going to star in?” I asked nodding at the script.
He nodded. “It looks like a really good show. I hope it does well.”
“My mom and I will watch it, although she will miss Jesse Stone. She loves those.”
“Oh, tell her that they aren’t going away. We have three more scheduled.”
“My husband will watch, too, even though you are no longer shooting on his lot.”
At his raised eyebrow I added, “My husband Jamie runs Culver where your last show shot and I always wanted to meet you and get your autograph but he said he’d kill me if I bothered you. Robert said you wouldn’t mind but I never did, anyway. I remember one day when someone’s daughter hung around the set all day mooning after Josh Duhamel, his agent chewed Jamie’s ear off. I learned from her mistake.”
Mr. Selleck nodded. “Robert who?” he asked curiously.
“Yes, he is friends with my husband.”
“You should have asked him to get it for you. I would have signed. Robert is a great guy.”
So I sat next to Tom Selleck all the way to New York and he was charming. When he fell asleep I thought of laying my head on his shoulder and snapping a selfie but just my luck he’d be a light sleeper and I would turn into Lucy Ricardo yet again when she chats with the sleeping Van Johnson and he wakes, embarrassing her.
When we landed at JFK, Mr. Selleck’s next escort arrived to walk him from the plane to collect his luggage. Just before exiting, he turned and hugged me. He smiled that Magnum smile, turned again, and was gone. | English | NL | 182be879f92a40a460d4ba22d36025edbc89fa3a614783075f01e0932dd19a71 |
To see if ShippingPass is right for you, try a 30-day free trial. Also, with ShippingPass, there is no need to worry about commitment. If you decide you want to discontinue the service, you can cancel your subscription at any time. No matter what your shipping needs, Walmart's got you covered. Sign up for ShippingPass so you can shop more, save money and live better. Share Your Faith Products
Then Moses said to the people of Israel, “See, the Lord has called by name Bezalel the son of Uri, son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah; and he has filled him with the Spirit of God, with skill, with intelligence, with knowledge, and with all craftsmanship, to devise artistic designs, to work in gold and silver and bronze, in cutting stones for setting, and in carving wood, for work in every skilled craft. And he has inspired him to teach, both him and Oholiab the son of Ahisamach of the tribe of Dan. ... Bible Scripture Art
He made an altar of bronze, twenty cubits long and twenty cubits wide and ten cubits high. Then he made the sea of cast metal. It was round, ten cubits from brim to brim, and five cubits high, and a line of thirty cubits measured its circumference. Under it were figures of gourds, for ten cubits, compassing the sea all around. The gourds were in two rows, cast with it when it was cast. It stood on twelve oxen, three facing north, three facing west, three facing south, and three facing east. The sea was set on them, and all their rear parts were inward. Its thickness was a handbreadth. And its brim was made like the brim of a cup, like the flower of a lily. It held 3,000 baths. ... Bible Scripture Art
The son of a woman of the daughters of Dan, and his father was a man of Tyre. He is trained to work in gold, silver, bronze, iron, stone, and wood, and in purple, blue, and crimson fabrics and fine linen, and to do all sorts of engraving and execute any design that may be assigned him, with your craftsmen, the craftsmen of my lord, David your father.
Then I saw another beast rising out of the earth. It had two horns like a lamb and it spoke like a dragon. It exercises all the authority of the first beast in its presence, and makes the earth and its inhabitants worship the first beast, whose mortal wound was healed. It performs great signs, even making fire come down from heaven to earth in front of people, and by the signs that it is allowed to work in the presence of the beast it deceives those who dwell on earth, telling them to make an image for the beast that was wounded by the sword and yet lived. And it was allowed to give breath to the image of the beast, so that the image of the beast might even speak and might cause those who would not worship the image of the beast to be slain. ... Christian Gifts
This is the book of the generations of Adam. When God created man, he made him in the likeness of God. Male and female he created them, and he blessed them and named them Man when they were created. When Adam had lived 130 years, he fathered a son in his own likeness, after his image, and named him Seth. The days of Adam after he fathered Seth were 800 years; and he had other sons and daughters. Thus all the days that Adam lived were 930 years, and he died. ... Christian Canvas Art
Now King Solomon sent and brought Hiram from Tyre. He was a widow's son from the tribe of Naphtali, and his father was a man of Tyre, a worker in bronze; and he was filled with wisdom and understanding and skill for doing any work in bronze So he came to King Solomon and performed all his work. He fashioned the two pillars of bronze; eighteen cubits was the height of one pillar, and a line of twelve cubits measured the circumference of both.read more.
Without works of gold, silver, bronze, iron, stone, and wood our world would be confused. Our currency would be difficult to manage, our world olympians wouldn’t receive beautiful crafted metals and our homes would be less structured along with the rest of our lives. Crafting works of art is very important and it is fantastic that our Lord has gifted many with the gift of a skilled craftsman.
"Now her sister Oholibah saw this, yet she was more corrupt in her lust than she, and her harlotries were more than the harlotries of her sister. "She lusted after the Assyrians, governors and officials, the ones near, magnificently dressed, horsemen riding on horses, all of them desirable young men. "I saw that she had defiled herself; they both took the same way.read more. Share Your Faith Products
He also made two pillars for the front of the house, thirty-five cubits high, and the capital on the top of each was five cubits. He made chains in the inner sanctuary and placed them on the tops of the pillars; and he made one hundred pomegranates and placed them on the chains. He erected the pillars in front of the temple, one on the right and the other on the left, and named the one on the right Jachin and the one on the left Boaz.
If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory. Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry. ... Share Your Faith Products
The Bible is full of encouraging scriptures that are such a blessing to read and memorize. Here are ten of my favorite scripture quotes for encouragement. Feel free to share these with others as these encouraging Bible verses will brighten anyone’s day. The Scriptures used are filled with hope, comfort and inspiration. These famous Bible quotes are from the Old and New Testament. Bible Scripture Art | English | NL | 014f4e733da40d5ac6f30a0aa6748584f3ddc1317750454b10943780f83eabe4 |
Children In The Miracles Of Jesus Christ
Most Relevant Verses
While he told these things to them, behold, a ruler came and worshiped him, saying, "My daughter has just died, but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live."
Behold, one of the rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name, came; and seeing him, he fell at his feet, and begged him much, saying, "My little daughter is at the point of death. Please come and lay your hands on her, that she may be made healthy, and live."
Behold, there came a man named Jairus, and he was a ruler of the synagogue. He fell down at Jesus' feet, and begged him to come into his house, for he had an only daughter, about twelve years of age, and she was dying. But as he went, the multitudes pressed against him.
When Jesus came into the ruler's house, and saw the flute players, and the crowd in noisy disorder, he said to them, "Make room, because the girl isn't dead, but sleeping." They were ridiculing him. But when the crowd was put out, he entered in, took her by the hand, and the girl arose.
He came to the synagogue ruler's house, and he saw an uproar, weeping, and great wailing. When he had entered in, he said to them, "Why do you make an uproar and weep? The child is not dead, but is asleep." They ridiculed him. But he, having put them all out, took the father of the child, her mother, and those who were with him, and went in where the child was lying.read more.
Taking the child by the hand, he said to her, "Talitha cumi!" which means, being interpreted, "Girl, I tell you, get up!" Immediately the girl rose up and walked, for she was twelve years old. They were amazed with great amazement. He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and commanded that something should be given to her to eat.
While he still spoke, one from the ruler of the synagogue's house came, saying to him, "Your daughter is dead. Don't trouble the Teacher." But Jesus hearing it, answered him, "Don't be afraid. Only believe, and she will be healed." When he came to the house, he didn't allow anyone to enter in, except Peter, John, James, the father of the child, and her mother.read more.
All were weeping and mourning her, but he said, "Don't weep. She isn't dead, but sleeping." They were ridiculing him, knowing that she was dead. But he put them all outside, and taking her by the hand, he called, saying, "Child, arise!" Her spirit returned, and she rose up immediately. He commanded that something be given to her to eat.
Jesus went out from there, and withdrew into the region of Tyre and Sidon. Behold, a Canaanite woman came out from those borders, and cried, saying, "Have mercy on me, Lord, you son of David! My daughter is severely demonized!" But he answered her not a word. His disciples came and begged him, saying, "Send her away; for she cries after us."read more.
But he answered, "I wasn't sent to anyone but the lost sheep of the house of Israel." But she came and worshiped him, saying, "Lord, help me." But he answered, "It is not appropriate to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs." But she said, "Yes, Lord, but even the dogs eat the crumbs which fall from their masters' table." Then Jesus answered her, "Woman, great is your faith! Be it done to you even as you desire." And her daughter was healed from that hour.
From there he arose, and went away into the borders of Tyre and Sidon. He entered into a house, and didn't want anyone to know it, but he couldn't escape notice. For a woman, whose little daughter had an unclean spirit, having heard of him, came and fell down at his feet. Now the woman was a Greek, a Syrophoenician by race. She begged him that he would cast the demon out of her daughter.read more.
But Jesus said to her, "Let the children be filled first, for it is not appropriate to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs." But she answered him, "Yes, Lord. Yet even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs." He said to her, "For this saying, go your way. The demon has gone out of your daughter." She went away to her house, and found the child having been laid on the bed, with the demon gone out.
When they came to the multitude, a man came to him, kneeling down to him, saying, "Lord, have mercy on my son, for he is epileptic, and suffers grievously; for he often falls into the fire, and often into the water. So I brought him to your disciples, and they could not cure him."read more.
Jesus answered, "Faithless and perverse generation! How long will I be with you? How long will I bear with you? Bring him here to me." Jesus rebuked him, the demon went out of him, and the boy was cured from that hour.
One of the multitude answered, "Teacher, I brought to you my son, who has a mute spirit; and wherever it seizes him, it throws him down, and he foams at the mouth, and grinds his teeth, and wastes away. I asked your disciples to cast it out, and they weren't able." He answered him, "Unbelieving generation, how long shall I be with you? How long shall I bear with you? Bring him to me."read more.
They brought him to him, and when he saw him, immediately the spirit convulsed him, and he fell on the ground, wallowing and foaming at the mouth. He asked his father, "How long has it been since this has come to him?" He said, "From childhood. Often it has cast him both into the fire and into the water, to destroy him. But if you can do anything, have compassion on us, and help us." Jesus said to him, "If you can believe, all things are possible to him who believes." Immediately the father of the child cried out with tears, "I believe. Help my unbelief!" When Jesus saw that a multitude came running together, he rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to him, "You mute and deaf spirit, I command you, come out of him, and never enter him again!" Having cried out, and convulsed greatly, it came out of him. The boy became like one dead; so much that most of them said, "He is dead." But Jesus took him by the hand, and raised him up; and he arose.
Behold, a man from the crowd called out, saying, "Teacher, I beg you to look at my son, for he is my only child. Behold, a spirit takes him, he suddenly cries out, and it convulses him so that he foams, and it hardly departs from him, bruising him severely. I begged your disciples to cast it out, and they couldn't."read more.
Jesus answered, "Faithless and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here." While he was still coming, the demon threw him down and convulsed him violently. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, and healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. They were all astonished at the majesty of God. But while all were marveling at all the things which Jesus did, he said to his disciples,
It happened soon afterwards, that he went to a city called Nain. Many of his disciples, along with a great multitude, went with him. Now when he drew near to the gate of the city, behold, one who was dead was carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. Many people of the city were with her. When the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said to her, "Don't cry."read more.
He came near and touched the coffin, and the bearers stood still. He said, "Young man, I tell you, arise!" He who was dead sat up, and began to speak. And he gave him to his mother.
Jesus came therefore again to Cana of Galilee, where he made the water into wine. There was a certain nobleman whose son was sick at Capernaum. When he heard that Jesus had come out of Judea into Galilee, he went to him, and begged him that he would come down and heal his son, for he was at the point of death. Jesus therefore said to him, "Unless you see signs and wonders, you will in no way believe."read more.
The nobleman said to him, "Sir, come down before my child dies." Jesus said to him, "Go your way. Your son lives." The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him, and he went his way. As he was now going down, his servants met him and reported, saying "Your child lives!" So he inquired of them the hour when he began to get better. They said therefore to him, "Yesterday at the seventh hour, the fever left him." | English | NL | 658c8afbec07290c924d10857c43f51716e7685f9f106572c033d399a1f28d59 |
Aerie is a lawful good Avariel, a race of winged elves, but because she has lost her wings, the game determined she is an elf. She is a Cleric / Mage, and she was tutored by Quayle, a companion from Baldur's Gate I. She is a potential companion in Baldur's Gate II and a love interest for male player characters. Aerie is found during the subquest Investigate the Circus Tent at Waukeen's Promenade in Athkatla. The illusion spell makes her look like an ogre and she asks the party to free her by giving her the key of her chains, which looks like sword. After freeing her, she will offer to join the party. She has a Quarter Staff, and wears a Traveller's robe when joining the party.
When asked about her past, Aerie becomes silent for a time, obviously saddened by the memory. She lived among the Avariel, the winged elves, and was captured by slavers when she was still very young. She shudders when she speaks of her first years in the circus, on display in a cage that restricted her movement to the point that her wings atrophied. They became infected... and Aerie can barely speak about the night when she was taken out of her cage and her wings were sawn off brutally to keep her alive. She was no longer of use to that circus, and were it not for the kindness of Quayle she surely would have died. He restored her to health and gave her a reason to continue living, and out of respect and generosity she learned the devotion of the Gnomish god Baervan Windwanderer. She speaks of Baervan with affection, yet still pays tribute to Aedrie Faenya, and approaches life outside the circus with a combination of wide-eyed innocence and wonder mixed with an inborn determination to fight against injustice. | English | NL | fbac871035c2cf86c88c1f2d41bed791a2a7d7bf6aebe5171f7fb8952d8bf699 |
"For every 1 hour of television viewed per day by preschoolers, their likelihood of developing concentration problems and other attention-deficit ‘disorders’ by the age of 7, increases by 10%"The page screamed...
I decided to hunt down said study:
A total of 1278 children had data from age “1” (mean: 1.8 years; SD: 0.6), and 1345 had data from age “3” (mean: 3.8 years; SD: 0.6). Children watched an average of 2.2 hours (SD: 2.91) of television per day at age 1 and 3.6 hours (SD: 2.94) per week at age 3.
Ten percent of children for whom data were available at ages 1 and 3 had attentional problems on the basis of our definition derived from the BPI.I'm no statistician but looking at the graphs, the average TV watched was a couple of hours - but a not insignificant proportion of infants watched anything from 4-16 hours! The researchers found 10% had attentional problems (note NOT clinically diagnosed ADHD) and if this is directly linked to amount of viewing (as the authors found) those who displayed attentional problems must have watched an awful lot of TV if 2 hours per day was the average at a year old?
The authors also go on to say:
We cannot draw causal inferences from these associations. It could be that attentional problems lead to television viewing rather than vice versa. However, to mitigate this limitation, we exploited the longitudinality of the data set and focused on television viewing at 1 and 3 years of age, well before the age at which most experts believe that ADHD symptoms are manifest.32,39
It is also possible that there are characteristics associated with parents who allow their children to watch excessive amounts of television that accounts for the relationship between television viewing and attentional problems. For example, parents who were distracted, neglectful, or otherwise preoccupied might have allowed their children to watch excessive amounts of television in addition to having created a household environment that promoted the development of attentional problems.
Finally, we had no data on the content of the television being viewed. Some research indicates that educational television (eg, Sesame Street) may in fact promote attention and reading among school-aged children.24 Others have disagreed and posited that even such programming can be detrimental.40 If exposure to certain kinds of programming is beneficial, even at a very young age, then our results represent conservative estimates of the risks of television as a medium in general because some proportion of the programming may have moderated the detrimental aspects of others and deviated the results toward the null. However, more research is needed on the effects of varying content of television, particularly for children who are preschool age.
Why am I rambling on about TV viewing - am I suggesting you all go flick the box on and plop your darlings there for the rest of the day. Of course not.
The trouble is that how on earth are mothers supposed to do everything? Gone are the days of communities, where there was always an older sibling, sister, aunt or mother to help out - instead many families are nuclear, one or both parents out for most of the day working, or one at work whilst the other takes care of the baby.
Lob a "high needs" infant into that, older siblings - breastfeeding, cleaning, washing, ironing, cooking healthy meals and of course "quality time" and can we really blame mothers for needing the help of that flashing babysitter every once in a while?
Even if this isn't the case - what happens if you have more than one child? Maybe you have a four year old who wants to watch say Sesame Street, you as a parent want to also watch and interact with the older child. Do you blindfold and pop ear muffs on the baby? Sling them on your back so they can't see?
My eldest was a glue baby, I hadn't heard of good slings (and who even knows whether she would have gone in one anyway) she was very "high needs" and quite often by late afternoon I would realise I was starving, and I hadn't even been able to put her down long enough to get something to eat. It wasn't that I was a purist against baby swings or bouncers - she simply only tolerated them for a few minutes. Fast forward a few months to her starting solids and I had various options:
1. Leave her to scream whilst I prepared her some decent home cooked food
2. Attempt to hold her and cook, not good with a wriggly infant.
3. Feed her something quick - food from a jar or packet
4. Find something to keep her busy for 10- 15-20 mins (depending on the day and her mood!) that would engage her enough she would be happy with me in the adjoining kitchen.
Given it usually ended up on the floor, perhaps I should have rethought! Anyway....
I didn't really go for the flashing, boinging, singing LOUD programmes that generally are kids TV and so I played, wait for it, shock horror a Baby Einstein DVD! (ok shoot me now) With number two I had no hesitation in pulling it back out if required - which was generally less often given he was a far more chilled out baby generally, usually loved his sling; and of course when the eldest was at home she was far more entertaining than any flashing box.
I'm sure by now some (perhaps those who have discovered slings, or have a baby who actually naps somewhere else other than on you, or are generally a relaxed temperament) feel I'm trying to justify my own Baby Einstein secret - or so a friend who in response proudly told me she has no TV (yet downloads episodes to her PC?!?) suggested. I didn't dare point out that in reality I thought Baby Einstein was probably the least of my early parenting concerns, I'm personally far more worried about the hours of "pick up put down" that followed reading the Baby Whisperer - but hey that's one for another day....
PS - if you're not quite ready to toss the television, Dr. Dimitri Christakis at Seattle Children's Hospital (often quoted for their research into the effects of TV viewing on children) suggests parents can manipulate viewing to turn it into a useful tool? click here to watch his presentation.... | English | NL | 3c265b10efb37562bfd4a173e736a82bca0fc87915f7d31adc168137bb117bea |
When we were little we were all fascinated by how the leaves of the mimosa folded rapidly when being touched. Very few of us could resist touching the touch-sensitive leaves when we came across them while playing in the fields. Though we hated stepping on the prickly stems when we were running around bare-footed, at times it was compensated by the amazement of seeing how the leaves folded in response to our touching and poking when we stopped what we were doing and gathered around the small plant, and then observing the leaves open a few moments later.
Though there is a reason for the plants to have such a defense mechanism, which is to protect themselves from herbivores, their shyness and timidity brings to mind one of the scripture verses in the bible where we are reminded not to be shy, timid or withdrawn…
2 Timothy 1:7
7 For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline. | English | NL | 8fd51638aa6542aac8ae49a9ba88559819ef8d9e085b8ef51419f13f1acdfdbe |
“(for He who effectually worked for Peter in his apostleship to the circumcised effectually worked for me also to the Gentiles),” (Gal. 2:8) NASBU
Just what we’ve been saying, isn’t it? Paul brings God into it. God is the He of this verse. God worked effectually in the spreading of the good news (apostleship) among Jews was just as effective working with Paul in his apostleship to the non-Jews. The key word here is effectual. This seems to give us the idea that whether Jew or Gentile, the gospel as taught by Peter and Paul would do what God intended it to do. The good news was effective in changing the lives of people regardless of their race or country or any other division.
God saved the Jews who believed and obeyed the gospel taught by Peter. God saved the Gentiles who believed and obeyed the gospel taught by Paul. Same gospel, same results. Peter preached it to the Jews on the day of Pentecost as recorded in Acts 2. Those who heard the gospel were baptized. Peter preached it to the Samarians and when they heard the good news they were baptized. Peter preached it to the Ethiopian Eunuch in Acts 8 and the Eunuch asked for baptism. Ananias preached to Paul and Paul was baptized. Peter preached to the household of Cornelius as recorded in Acts 10 and when he was finished preaching he ordered them to be baptized.
Beginning to see a pattern here? The gospel is preached, people believe, people obey. Is this an accident or a mere coincidence? Are is this what Jesus ordered done before he went back to heaven. Here are his words, “Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation. whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned.” (Mark 16:15, 16)
This is what Jesus told Peter and this is what Jesus told Paul and this is what Jesus told Ananias and this is what he told all who would be his messengers to the lost world. Now here is a very important question that every person who has heard of Jesus needs to ask. “Why did Jesus put belief and baptism together as the means of salvation?” This is a major question that needs to be answered by every person who believes in Jesus but believed they were saved without baptism. This quote from Mark was not a mistake. Matthew gives a similar quote in chapter 28:18-20.
I want to add them up for us. Jesus ordered preaching the gospel to the world and that those who believed the gospel should be baptized in order to be saved. Peter told people repeated to believe and be baptized in order to be saved. Ananias told Paul to be baptized to wash away his sins which is the same thing as being saved. Paul teaches that the new birth is a result of baptism (Rom. 6:3-7). Pretty impressive I think.
Task for Today: Let God work effectively in your life. First, let the gospel that His Son taught bring about an effective forgiveness of your sins. Second, when you teach the gospel to others make sure it is the same one that God used to good effect through Paul and Peter. | English | NL | e382c81c3e10943801f9a454b1fcb24c6ae25026d9f9d863b243ac9ccd5c292d |
The Fair Green is now a large open space, but was totally covered by the lake until it was reclaimed in the 19th century. Fairs, where cattle, sheep and pigs were sold, were held here. The Bridewell, a holding area for prisoners before court appearance, was once located on the Fair Green and was demolished in 1969. The Courthouse is now the only building on the Green. Built from limestone in 1821, it continues to serve the town and district.
15. FAIR GREEN AND COURTHOUSE | English | NL | a714ce5dfdabed815a180d9e25c67abe808e85b8fdc23ed4df5ee9683dfd6904 |
Capt Raymond Leopold Grieg Heath
1885 and was killed in action 1915 in France.
Son of: Arthur Raymond Heath (1854-1943) and Flora Jean Baxter.
1. Violet Mary Heath (1882-1904).
2. Lt Col Frederick Dunbar Heath (1889-1954) who married Dorothy Jane Nairne Spencer (1892-1975).
Capt Raymond Leopold Grieg Heath: An Overview
We have the following references to Raymond:
1. Entry in the book "Records of the Heath Family Vol 1" by George Heath, 1913.
2. Entry in the book "Records of the Heath Family Vol 2" by George Heath, 1920.
Records of the Heath Family Vol 1, page 101, reads as follows:
Raymond Leopold Greig, born at Farmington Lodge, North Leach, Glos., Feb. 14, 1885. Educated at Marlborough College. Lieut. 2nd Batt. Queen's Royal West Surrey Regt.
Records of the Heath Family Vol 2, page 31, reads as follows:
CAPT. RAYMOND LEOPOLD GREIG HEATH.
QUEEN'S ROYAL WEST SURREY.
Educated at Hawtrey's, Westgate, and at Marlborough College, Preshute House. Passed into Sandhurst, and while waiting to be gazetted, he went to Russia to learn the language, where he was very kindly received by his mother's second cousins Prince Oakhtomsky and Countess Ferser Stenbock. He was gazetted to the Royal West Surrey, Dec. 14th, 1913, and obtained his Captaincy, Nov. 1st, 1914. After a short time at Shorncliffe he went to India, where his battalion, then commanded by Colonel Pink, obtained the Kitchener price for efficiency. In India he was quartered successively at Sialkote and Agra. While at Sialkote he made a shooting trip into the Pamirs and got some good Ibex and Amiel.
From India he went to Aden, and while there got his second star. The battalion was then ordered home, but at Gibraltar as junior lieutenant he was transferred to 2nd battalion at that section. Here he did a deal of hunting with the Cape hounds and won several races at the local meetings on a very good pony he had named Smoke, riding in the family colours, black and red stripe. From Gibraltar he went to Bermuda and then to South Africa. He always had a rather a turn of mechanics, and taking a great interest in machine guns he was put in charge of the battalion machine guns (at that time two per battalion were considered sufficient). He ran this little command very well, and even made a small invention for sighting at night, which was favourably considered at Headquarters.
On the breaking out of the war the battalion was ordered home, and was for a short time in camp at Lyndhurst. It went straight from there as a unit of the 22nd Brigade, 7th Division, to Zeebrugge, where they landed 12 moon 7/10/14. After much marching and countermarching they took part in the struggle on the 19th October, 1914, for the Menim road. Near Ypres, Raymond was badly wounded on October 23rd by a bullet which passed upwards form the groin and eventually lodged in the stomach. He was knocked over and left behind in the retreat, but managed to pick himself up and hobble toward the British lines, even rounding up stragglers on the way. He was brought home to Mrs.R.Lindsay's Hospital in her London House, where he was treated with every possible kindness. In due course the bullet was extracted from the stomach, where it was lying loose (the case is said to be unprecedented). He convalesced for a short time at home, but made such a rapid recovery that by November, 1914, he was passed for light duty abroad, and left England to join the Battalion on 23rd, Dec., 1914, only three months after being wounded.
On arriving in France, being only fit as yet for light duty, he was detached to command the guard at Chen Sir D. Haig's H.Q., who then commanded the first Army Corps. After a little time Raymond was made Camp Commandant, which post he filled until May, when he was able to do what he had long been most anxious to do, that is, rejoin the battalion in the fighting line. On the 7th May he was finally released from the post of Camp Commandant, and after a short period with the 1st battalion, rejoined the 2nd battalion "Queen's," taking command of "D" company.
In the course of June he was selected by General Lawford, the Brigadier, to join his staff in the responsible position of Brigade Machine Gun Officer. He was, however, very anxious to get back to the battalion, where he felt his duty lay, and where, owing to the heavy casualties, there was a desperate want of experienced officers, and on June 10th the general very reluctantly consented to his throwing up his post on the Brigade Staff and rejoining his battalion.
The battalion was now commanded by M. G. Heath, D.S.O. (no relation of our family). Capt. F.C. Longbourne was second in command. Captain P.C. Esdaile, next in seniority, was not with the regiment. Capt. R.L.G. Heath was, therefore, practically senior Captain.
When the battalion embarked for France in August, 1914, M.G. Heath was a junior Captain, F.C. Longbourne, P.C. Esdaile and R.L.G. Heath being practically contemporaries, and all at Sandhurst together, were rather junior lieutenants.
The battalion was severeal times engagd in minor affairs, and constantly, with short respites, under fire until the battle of Loos. The following were the orders as explained to the Company Commanders of 2nd Battalion on 18th September.
9th Division to attack Auchy.
7th Division on the right.
20th Brigade on right.
22nd Brigade (including "Queen's") on left.
21st Brigade Divisional Reserve Brigade
22nd was disposed as follows:-
South Staffordshire on the right as far as Hulluch Road,
Warwicks on the left as far as Borders Lane
Royal Welsh Fusiliers in support in Sidings and keeps along Hulloch Railway.
"Queen's" in reserve Lancaster lines.
Royal Welsh Fusiliers to go into front line as soon as attackers have left, but will be used to cover and support left flank and they will attack towards Haisnes,
"Queen's" move into front line as soon as it is clear, but do not move out until told to.
On the 25th September, the day of the battle of Loos, the battalion moved out from Vermelles towards Hulluch early, "D" company under R.L.G. Heath, attacking towards Cite St. Elie. Early in the attack, Sergeant Park, of "D" company, who before he enlisted as gardener at Kitlands, became a casualty, wounded in both legs. This was about 9.a.m., and at that time he saw Raymond running forward, leading "D" company at the double. They went on and occupied at trench just opposite City St. Elie, a mining village north of Lens and near Hulluch. The last report from Raymond received by the second in command, Capt. Longbourne, was as follows.
"'D' Company and about 50 or 60 men of 'C' Company, some Warwicks and men of R.W.F. are in trench G6DS.2-G.6 BS2 between City St. Elie and Haisnes. We are on the right of 9th Division. I am not advancing till I receive orders."
This was received at 11.20 a.m., and the following is an extract from a letter from one of his subalterns: "at this time (about 11 a.m.) he (R.L.G.H.) received no orders and no support, and could get no connection with the battalion on his right. We stayed there (in above trench) until early in the afternoon, when we attacked City St. Elie, but were shelled by our own artillery, and had to go back to the trench. It was soon after this, 3 p.m., that your son was hit (by a bullet from a sniper thought the temple). The Germans then got behind us and the battalion on our left became demoralised and went back, compelling us to do the same, 4 p.m. (They fell back to the quarries where the writer of the above was wounded and the Colonel killed). This is all I can tell you, but before closing should like to say what admiration I felt for the way in which Capt Heath led us all day and by his coolness and personal example made us all feel anything he told us too do would without doubt turn out well, and I am sure I am voicing the feelings of the Company in saying this."
As Major (now Brigadier-General) Longbourne wrote at the time: "R.L.G. Heath was killed, shot through the head, after he had successfully led his Company and gained the most forward position occupied by the Brigade that day."
The date was Sept. 25th, 1915, the day on which the Allies made their great attack on the German lines."
A memorial service was held at Coldharbour Church on Tuesday, Oct 5th, 1915. The service was mainly choral, concluding with "The Last Post," beautifully rendered on the bugle by Sergt. Major Calper, "The Queen's," who had served in Capt Heath's company, and the March in "Scipio" on the organ. It was largely attended by relations, friends and neighbours. | English | NL | 9e32fcff38c45d31854e4421331c50e2e5f6bcbcf7f375aa4c179a27a63ed8db |
List of eponymous laws
This list of eponymous laws provides links to articles on laws, adages, and other succinct observations or predictions named after a person. In some cases the person named has coined the law – such as Parkinson’s law. In others, the work or publications of the individual have led to the law being so named – as is the case with Moore’s law. There are also laws ascribed to individuals by others, such as Murphy’s law; or given eponymous names despite the absence of the named person. | English | NL | 7c5fa8646295373066e148afea134ff0c2766dfff1c871ffc2a122f6f1a1dae8 |
The Greek god Apollo was the god of light, order, arts and muses, reason, prophecy. He was the son of Zeus and Leto and the twin brother of Artemis. He is represented as a young and handsome man, sometimes in a chariot, given to him by his father, Zeus.
When Hera found out that her husband had had another affair, she sent a monstruous serpent, the Python, to follow Leto day and night, so as she could have no peace to have her children (she was bearing twins).
But Leto made it to the island of Delos, where she gave birth to Artemis. The mother was too tired to have the second baby, but precocious Artemis helped her to give birth to Apollo. The father gave both children bows and arrows, as gifts.
The Greek god Apollo was a precocious baby, too. He was only four days old when he followed and killed the Python as a revenge for having given a hard time to his mother.
But the Python was the son of the goddess Gaia, so Apollo had to pay for his crime. He had to become king Admetus' servant for one year. King Admetus treated him well, so Apollo told him that, when time came for him to die, he could continue to live if he could find someone else to die in his place (now if you ask me, I think this is a very selfish thing to do, ask someone else to die in your place).
One day, Niobe, the queen of Thebes, started to laugh at Leto, who only had two children, while the queen had seven girls and seven boys. Leto was offended by all this, so she told her children about it. The revenge was scary: the Greek god Apollo killed with his arrows Niobe's seven sons, while the goddess Artemis killed the daughters (ok, so Niobe had a child-like reaction, but the other two were gods, they should have been above all these small human things).
One of the Greek god Apollo's surname was the Musagetes, that is "the leader of the muses". In the paintings below, he is represented together with the nine muses.
When his half brother Hermes invented the lyre, Apollo liked the sound of it so much, that he exchanged his immortal cattle for it. Later, he took from Hermes the pan-pipe, in exchange for his golden wand. The Greek god Apollo was a very good player and he was convinced no one played better than him.
In a contest with the god Pan, king Midas was in the jury. Pan played some rustic melodies and everyone liked them. Then it was Apollo's turn, and everyone agreed that Apollo was the best. All, except Midas - to whom Apollo gave a pair of donkey ears, for the way he had judged the god's music.
Another one who challenged Apollo was the satyr Marsyas, who played the flute better than the god played the lyre. But Apollo had a bright idea which allowed him to win the contest: he suggested for them to play their instruments upside down. Marsyas protested because this was not a part of the initial understanding, but of course the Greek god Apolo had it his way. Poor Marsyas lost and the god of light and order skinned him alive. | English | NL | 62aa15a46a460fee00b55cd821c1d88ef8122449f7d03cae83b315fc2fc7330a |
I am not at all certain what it was that sparked the memory, but I had a very clear picture in my mind today of a magical place that has not existed for the past half a century. I could call it my childhood home, though we probably only lived there for about five years, until I was ten. I have a good visual memory and remember even my very first nursery, but this was the house where isolated vignettes of memory became a continuous story… and nowhere was more fascinating to a small child than the space under the stairs.
As you entered the house, the staircase rose to your left, the kitchen door was on the right, and the hallway led straight ahead to the living room. In the dark, triangular space beneath the stairs was a small table upon which sat my mother’s Imperial typewriter… a great black affair with a temperamental red and black ribbon and keys picked out in ivory. It was heavy, already ancient and each key made a satisfying ‘clunk’ when depressed. I spent hours typing on that thing, though I had to use the red inked part of the ribbon, as my mother needed the black for her writing. I must have typed ‘the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog’ more times than I had hot dinners, disentangling the arms with their raised letters when my fingers worked quicker than they could.
On the back wall was a bookcase that held my mother’s manuscripts, a set of encyclopaedias and a carved wooden bear she had been given in Switzerland for her twenty-first birthday. The tallest wall held another bookcase, guarded by an alligator. Quite why she had this product of the taxidermist’s art in her possession, I never really knew. I did ask, but there appeared to be no reasonable answer. Although I was never entirely happy about stuffing animals and birds, having seen too many of them under their glass domes in my great grandmother’s red velvet sitting room, I did quite like this alligator. He smiled, and, when a guardian of knowledge smiles on you, all is right with the world.
Behind the alligator, there were books, of every description. From fact to fiction, on every conceivable subject… and, in spite of my tender years, I was free to read them all. Victorian moral tales rubbed shoulders with Madam Blavatsky and Spike Milligan. T. Lobsang Rampa shared a shelf with an autographed copy of Longfellow. I curled up with Bullfinch’s Mythology and Edward Lear and was as likely to read myself to sleep with Wilde, Bronte or Wheatley as I was to pick up Enid Blyton or C. S. Lewis. It was, had I but known it at the time, an amazing education. And not just for the books I was able to read.
My mother’s philosophy was simple… if I read something I was too young to understand, it would do me no harm and might encourage me to learn. For words I did not know, there was a dictionary. For things of which I knew nothing, there were the encyclopaedias. For concepts I did not understand, I could ask. And, as long as I could frame the question, there would always be an answer.
The answers might be phrased in a way a child could understand, they were often illustrated by analogies, but they were never ‘dumbed down’ or dismissive. Nor were the answers always cut and dried. While one plus one might equal two, discussions on more obscure subjects, like the nature of the soul, the thorny question of whether we only have ‘three score years and ten’ to learn all a human soul might need to learn and whether or not reincarnation was a reality, were always left open-ended. We explored the ideas, discussed the options and examined a variety of beliefs but the conversation would still end with the same thought… “Only you can find your answer.”
How could that be? If something is true or false, I thought, surely it is always true or false? It took a while to realise that simply being true is not Truth and that although there must be Truth somewhere in the vastness of Creation, we are probably not be big enough to see much of it. Our perspective is that of a grain of sand looking at the enormity of the Universe… and our vision is limited.
Slowly, I learned to ask the question… not just of others, though I learned much from listening to their opinions, thoughts and beliefs, but of something both within and without myself. There is always an answer… though sometimes I am still too ‘young’ to understand it and it only becomes clearer as time and growth open the gates of understanding. Over the years, I found many possible answers, but every so often one comes along that feels ‘right’ in an inexplicable way. It does not necessarily mean that it is true, but it has a rightness about it that answers the need of the moment. Some are discarded as new facets of life open, others become part of who you are and evolve as you grow.
The lessons we learn as children are not always good. We learn behaviours, prejudices, fears and opinions that will shape or scar us for life. What we take on board is not always what we are taught… it can, just as easily, be a reaction against what we are taught, by life, books or people. But sometimes, we are given gifts we do not appreciate until we have lived enough to understand them better.
The alligator is long gone, his stitched seams undone, his sawdust spilled. The carved bear went missing in transit, the typewriter fell silent and the Longfellow was lost in a move. Many of those same books sit on my bookshelves today but, fifty years after we packed the space under the stairs into boxes, I still carry its magic with me. | English | NL | f53355f675d751b860b6ca9881a30b94d093a3d1a16731fa9b1bc204f1d149d3 |
Ballaleshwar Temple in Pali, Raigad district is the 3rd of Ashtavinayak Temples near Pune, Maharashtra.
According to Historians and Hindu religious scholars, Lord Ganesha is largely believed to have immediately saved a boy-devotee named Ballala who was badly beaten by his father named Kalyani-seth and local villagers. The only reason was his single-minded devotion towards Ganesha.
In 1760, Shri Ballaleshwar temple Pali was built by Nana Phadanavis. He reconstructed the original wooden temple into a stone temple. On the two sides of the temple, there are two small lakes constructed. One lake is totally reserved for the puja (worship) of the Deity.
It is to be noted that this particular temple has two sanctums and faces towards the east. The murthi is housed in the inner Temple. It has a Mushika which means Ganesha’s mouse vahana. There is also a modaka in his forepaws in front of it. There are eight exquisitely carved pillars which supports the hall.
It is to be noted that the eight directions are depicted by these eight pillars. The outer sanctum is 12 feet tall and the inner one is 15 feet tall. It is to be remembered that the sun rays fall on the Ganesha murti at sunrise during the winter solstice. The melted lead was used to stuck stones together very tight for building this Temple.
The Murthi has diamonds embedded in the navel and the eyes. The murthi’s trunk is pointed towards the left. The Besan Laadu is offered as Prasad in this Temple. It is to be noted that Modak is actually offered to the Ganapatis and its devotees.
The shape of the murthi is same as the mountain which is in the backdrop of this temple. On the Mumbai-Goa highway about 11 km before Nagothane, off the Mumbai-Pune highway the temple is situated in the town named as Pali. Moreover Pali is located just 30km to the South-West of Karjat Railway Station. The direction from Pune is Lonavla-Khopoli-Pali is 111 km and Mumbai is Panvel-Khopoli-Pali is 124 km. | English | NL | 74d23d0c837db261d5842ecf6a950d8f60981a1033cfaf0f7cefb2e8a981e0f3 |
Barbara is a professional artist and educator in the New York City area. She earned a BFA from Syracuse University in Painting/Anatomy and an MFA from Parsons New School of Design in Sculpture. She is a teaching artist and educator at Studio in a School and the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where she has been teaching for over 27 years. Barbara has also been teaching social studies and art classes at St. Joseph’s School for the Deaf in the Bronx for the past 16 years. Barbara is a working artist as well. Visit Barbara’s website here. | English | NL | eb49cd19efe58c0891baf6273555dc0b05e5419afb06a1ff4b9d6e95f7efe87e |
Wikipedia: Mary Bateman (1768 – 20 March 1809) was an English criminal and alleged witch, known as the "Yorkshire Witch", who was tried and executed for murder during the early 19th century.
Born to a farmer in Asenby, North Yorkshire, she became a servant girl in Thirsk, North Yorkshire but was eventually released due to petty theft. During the 1780s, she became a minor thief and con artist who often convinced many of her victims she possessed supernatural powers. By the end of the century, she had become a prominent fortuneteller in Leeds who prescribed potions which she claimed would ward off evil spirits as well as acting as medicine.
In 1806, Bateman was approached by William and Rebecca Perigo who believed they had been put under a spell after Rebecca had complained of chest pains and asked for her help in lifting the curse. However, over the next several months, Bateman began feeding them pudding which was laced with poison. While Rebecca regularly ate the pudding, her husband was unable to eat more than a spoonful. Rebecca's condition worsened however and she finally died in May 1806. William Perigo continued to pay her for more than two years until he discovered one of the "charms" which he and his wife had received from Bateman was worthless paper; he went to the authorities who arrested Bateman the following day after William lured her to a meeting.
Although she proclaimed her innocence, a search of her home turned up poison as well as many personal belongings of her victims including the Perigo couple. In March 1809, she was tried in York and found guilty by a jury of fraud and murder. Sentenced to death, Bateman attempted to avoid her execution by claiming she was pregnant, but a physical examination disproved this. She was finally hanged alongside two men on 20 March 1809. After her execution, her body was put on public display with strips of her skin being sold as magic charm to ward off evil spirits.
Bateman's skeleton is on display to the public at Thackray Museum in Leeds.
In 1806 Mary Bateman concocted the hoax known as The Prophet Hen of Leeds, in which eggs laid by a hen were purported to predict the Biblical end times. Villagers believed doomsday had come when a hen began laying eggs with the phrase "Christ is coming" on each one, but it was later found to be a scam. Mrs. Bateman had herself inscribed the eggs using acid and reinserted them into the hen's oviduct.
Early Sep. 1803 – Miss Kitchin (sister # 1) – died, poison
1803 – Miss Kitchin (sister # 2) – died, poison
1803 – Mrs. Kitchin – died, poison
1803 – Female friend of Kitchin family, died, poison
Joseph Gosling family – poisoned, arsenic in cake, survived
May 24, 1807 – Rebecca Preigo – (Bramley) died, poison
1807 – William Perigo – (Bramley) poisoned, survived
►Other victims of fraud, hoaxes and theft:
Rebecca Fisher – victim of theft
Young woman (un-named)
Mrs. James Snowden
Mrs. Harker (sister-in-Law)
►Mary Bateman Chronology:
1768 – Mary Bateman was born Mary Harker in at Arsenby, Topcliffe Parish, near Thirsk
1792 – marries John Bateman
1799 – took up her residence in Marsh Lane, near Timble Bridge, Leeds, and proceeded to deal in fortune-telling and the sale of charms.
Oct. 21, 1808 – arrested
Mar. 18, 1809 – indicted at York
Mar. 20, 1809 – hanged
EXCERPT from 1809 book – dealing with the Kitchen murders:
But all those artifices, frauds, and impositions, however flagrant in themselves, bear little proportion to the larger scale of crimes on which she now advanced. The wicked subject of this narrative contrived to ingratiate herself, as she well knew how, into the good graces of a family of the name of Kitchin, two maiden-ladies of the quaker persuasion, who kept a small linen-draper’s shop, near St. Peter’s square, in Leeds; there is every reason to suppose that she had deluded these unfortunate young women with some idea of her skill in looking into futurity, or at least, that some of her friends, a Mrs. Moore, or a Miss Blythe perhaps, could read their destiny in the stars! Miserable delusion! How many harmless people have been its sacrifices, is only known to him from whom no secrets are hid. For some time Mary was the confident of the Miss Kitchins. She was frequently at their house; she assisted in their shop; and even to their domestic concerns her interference extended. In the early part of September, 1803, one of the young women became ill; Mary Bateman procured her medicines, as she said, from a country doctor; these medicines, like those administered to Perigo and his unfortunate wife, were of powerful efficacy, and in the course of less than one week, Miss Kitchin died. In the mean time, her mother hearing of her dangerous situation, came over from Wakefield, and though in good health when she left home, the mother as well as her other daughter took the same illness, and a few days placed them in the chambers of the grave, at the side of their ill-fated relation.
Previous to the death of one of the sisters, a female friend; of the family was sent for, and when she arrived, the poor sufferer seemed oppressed with some secret that she wished to communicate, but her strength failing her, she expired, and with her the cruel history of her fate.
Only ten days elapsed from the time this family became sick, to the time of the death of the mother and two sisters; the complaint of which they died was said to be the cholera morbus; a complaint, let it be remembered, attended by symptoms resembling those produced by poison. It did not, however, suit the purposes of Mary Bateman to give the disorder so mild a name, she represented it to be the plague, and the whole neighbourhood shunned the place, and would as soon have entered into the most infectious wards of a pesthouse, as into this dwelling. Mary alone, in the face of all danger, was ready to afford her friendly offices; and when the persons composing this unfortunate family were buried, the door was closed, and a padlock placed upon it.
It ought to have been observed, that a physician of eminence in the town, on being called in to visit the last surviving sister, was so strongly impressed with the opinion that her sickness and sudden death proceeded from poison; that he examined, with much care many of the vessels in the house, inquired if any water for poisoning flies had been used, and expressed a wish to open the body; but the family being all dead, and no person at hand who thought themselves authorised to give that permission, the corpse was interred unopened, and with it the opportunity of detection. It ought to be remarked, that during the time of the fatal illness in Miss Kitchen’s house, Mary Bateman was unremitting in her attention.— she administered their food, and from her hands the medicine was conveyed to their lips. Some time after the death of these ladies, their creditors looked over their effects, when it was found their house and shop had been plundered of almost every thing they contained; and to add to the embarrassment of their affairs, the shop books were missing; in fact, their property had dwindled down to nothing; so nearly so, at least, that the creditors only divided eight-pence in the pound!
[pp. 15-17 – Extraordinary Life and Character of Mary Bateman, the Yorkshire the Yorkshire Witch; Traced from The Earliest Thefts Of Her Infancy,Through A most Awful Course Of Crimes And Murders.Till Her Execution At The Hew Drop, Near The Castle Of York, On Monday the twentieth of March, 1809.Twelfth Edition.Entered At Stationers’ Hall. Leeds: Printed By Davies And Co. At The Stanhope Press, Vicar-Lane.1811.] Full text of the book available on Google Books.
SEE article about victim Rebecca Perigo: Victim of the Yorkshire Witch | English | NL | cd1f3ac5a71dfa0d09a633492a870de0a5e8e6a30e84b352ceb1fbd8edbb6875 |
When Jesus spoke, people listened. There was something different about him; his words were simple yet profound. When he said a prayer, gave a command, offered words of comfort, preached a sermon, or even told a story, his words were vibrant and alive. They were more than beautiful sayings and elegant statements-they were powerful and life-changing. In the towns, villages, and marketplaces, people listened to Jesus in amazement. With only a few words, he changed the lives of the blind, the crippled, the deaf, the heartbroken, and even the sinner. The Bible reveals the incredible stories of Jesus changing the lives of people just like us; people who faced disappointments, difficulties, and even failure. Often, we wish that we too could personally experience his transforming power. His words are still as powerful and relevant today as when he initially spoke them. We will explore the stories he told, the words he spoke, the people he touched, the lives of those he has changed, and will experience for ourselves the life-changing powers of the words of Jesus. The words of Jesus are waiting to be discovered; they are a treasure . . . Hidden in Plain Sight. "I will give you hidden treasures, riches stored in secret places so that you may know that I am the Lord" Isaiah 45:3 NIV The author, Jeff Campbell, PhD, is a popular inspirational speaker and Bible teacher. Having worked with some of the largest churches in the United States, he is highly respected as a compassionate leader, teacher, and a gifted preacher. He has traveled extensively on speaking engagements and Bible conferences in fifteen foreign countries. | English | NL | a2dd4d931197f17bc075d0e916a918b585ca11dbc802c1ba610db4128151dd23 |
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press, St. Martin’s Paperback
Date of publication: August 28th, 2018
Series: Whiskey and Weddings
Maybe I Do – Book 1
Maybe This Time – Book 2
Maybe for You – Book 3
Where you can find Maybe for You: Amazon | Barnes and Noble
Book synopsis (from Goodreads):
She’s never had a no-strings fling. He’s never had anything else. But maybe this time will be an exception?
After a year of mourning her fiancé, Alexis Parker has worked hard to rediscover what she wants out of life. Fresh out of the military and back stateside, her brother offers her a marketing job at the Stag Distillery. Ready for a new challenge, Alexis agrees to accompany her new co-worker Jake Cooperon a Stag cross-country promotional tour. He may have an infamous playboy reputation, but Alexis is surprised to find out that there is more to him than meets the eye. And she likes what she sees. . .
Jake promised Alexis’s brother that he’d be an absolute gentleman. Of course, that was before he and Alexis hit the road, and they both agree that what Alexis’s big brother doesn’t know won’t hurt him. The plan: to keep their fling confined to the RV, and everything will go back to normal once they head home. Things progress in ways neither of them could have imagined, and Jake realizes that he and Alexis make a perfect mix. Can he convince her that he’s ready to shake things up and give true love a shot?
Maybe for You broke my heart. I should have known that this book was going to make me cry by the first chapter. Alexis’s pain over Nate’s death was gut-wrenching. It came off the pages in waves. My heart broke for her. She needed to start healing. The first step to doing that was her taking the post in Italy. What I liked is that the author didn’t detail Alexis’s time in Italy. All I knew is that when she came home, she had somewhat healed and was starting to live again. Which was great and set the tone for the rest of the book.
I liked Alexis. What I liked is that she was human. She wasn’t perfect. She made mistakes. She had the same insecurities. It made for a more believable character. I connected to her. Mainly in the last half of the book. Everything that she felt, I felt. She did have her flaws. She kept pushing Jake away. She kept him at arm’s length. She was confused about what she felt about him. I loved it!!!
I liked Jake. He was exactly what he presented. The only thing is that he liked the ladies and the ladies liked him. I did think that it was messed up that the father of a grown woman complained to his business partners about Jake sleeping with his daughter. I also found it a little creepy. I liked that he was there for Alexis no matter what. I did agree with what he said when Alexis found out what she did. He wasn’t perfect. He had a temper. He had a rep as a playboy. But it was those imperfections that made his characters.
I loved that the romance in this book wasn’t Instalove. I don’t have anything against Instalove but it gets old in romance novels. So, when I see a novel where the relationship is built up, I love it. So, yes, I was happy with the romance in this book. Jake and Alexis had a year to build a relationship via text. For some people, that might not be enough but Jake and Alexis talked every day for a year. A relationship was built. I also liked how the author chose to have Alexis and Jake overcome their relationship issues. They fought like normal people but they always ended up talking it out.
Like the romance, the chemistry between Jake and Alexis grew during the first few chapters. I did have one small complaint. Not even a complaint, an observation. But how did she not feel hin when she was grinding up against him? I mean, its pretty obvious. Not talking from experience or anything…lol. Anyways, that chemistry leads to some red-hot sex. I needed a fan after the first scene. The other sex scenes, while not as hot, were still hot in their own sense. But nothing was like that first scene.
Now, I haven’t read the other books. The author did a great job at keeping the other characters, Dean and Charlotte/T.J. and Jen, in the background. I liked it. So yeah, the author did a great job at keeping them in the background where they belonged. Saying that, though, the secondary characters did make the book. If I had to have favorites, it would be Charlotte and Regina. Charlotte because she didn’t take crap from anyone. Regina because she was sweet and understanding.
The secondary storylines added depth to the book. Instead of taking over a book and leaving questions, they added to it. The author was able to tie them to the main storyline by the end of the book.
The end of the book was fantastic. I won’t lie, I had tears running down my face. It was that moving and a perfect ending for this book!! Also, the epilogue made me cry too. Ugly crying for the last half of the book FTW!!
What I liked about Maybe for You:
A) Alexis’s healing
B) The romance between Alexis and Jake
C) The epilogue
What I disliked about Maybe for You:
A) Alexis’s keep pushing Jake away
B) Jake’s temper
C) The other sex scenes weren’t as hot as the first one.
I gave Maybe for You a 4-star rating. The characters were relatable and the plotline was engaging. I did think that the sex scenes, after the first one, lacked some of the heat of the first one. I also didn’t like Alexis pushing Jake away many times. But other than that, it was a good read.
I gave Maybe for You an Adult rating. There is sex. There is language. There is some very mild violence. I would recommend that no one under the age of 21 read this book.
I would reread Maybe for You. I would also recommend it to family and friends.
I would like to thank St. Martin’s Paperbacks, St. Martin’s Press, and NetGalley for allowing me to read and review Maybe for You.
All opinions stated in this review of Maybe for You are mine.
**I chose to leave this review after reading an advance reader copy** | English | NL | cfeb025172d8b1997f8d576b92042568ff9c9cd76328f996f25d87a1397f64b0 |
Page count: 288 pages
Rating: 4 stars
Date begun: April 10th, 2011
Date finished: April 10th, 2011
Paxton Osgood and Willa Jackson used to go to high school together. Paxton was the prom queen, the head cheerleader, the princess; Willa was overlooked by everyone and got her thrills as the school's mysterious practical joker, not revealing her identity until close to graduation. Colin, Paxton's twin, your typical high school jock, was the one who got the credit for all of Willa's pranks, and admired her immensely for it, using her as his inspiration to break free of his parents' expectations and leave the little town of Wells of Water, North Carolina. Paxton stayed, slightly smothered by her mother's plans for her, running the wealthy family's many charitable endeavours and dreaming of moving into a house of her own. Willa's rebellious youth got her into heavy debt in college, and she returned to Wells of Water upon the death of her father, determined that she get her life back on track and live a quiet life of routine and hard work.
The lives of Willa and the Osgood siblings have barely touched since high school, but when the Osgood family buy the Blue Ridge Madam, a huge mansion once owned by the Jackson family before they became empoverished in the 1930s, and Paxton and Colin start restoring it, several ghosts from the past come to the surface, and truths that have been long buried will out.
Once the secrets start unraveling, Paxton and Willa have no choice but to try to figure out the truth, and Paxton's fierce, old grandmother may be able to help them. Best friends with Willa's grandmother around the time that the Jackson family lost all their money and was forced to abandon the Madam, she can tell them things that Willa's grandmother, a stroke victim, can't. In their quest to figure out the past, Paxton and Willa grow closer as well, and discover that despite their different upbringings, they may have more in common than they previously realized.
The Peach Keeper is Addison Allen's fourth novel, and as always, it's a delight to read. As in her other books, there is romance, and characters finding their happily ever afters in the end, but the driving force in this book is friendship - lifelong friendships, supporting each other and keeping each other's secrets. Paxton may have been popular in high school, but feels desperately alone, only really close to the former "freak" and outcast Sebastian, now returned to town as a snappily dressed dentist. Willa keeps to herself most of the time, despite the efforts of her younger shop assistants to make her socialize. When Colin returns to town to landscape the gardens around the Blue Ridge Madam, she resists his advances at first, but can't resist in the end.
By now, Sarah Addison Allen is an automatic buy for me, as I have yet to be even a little disappointed by one of her books. This one was possibly my favourite since her debut, Garden Spells. I will be eagerly awaiting her next novel, and hope she continues to write as magically and entertainingly as she does now. | English | NL | cafe956e2330dc944f960cff81ce7535739c2c2883b004b8d7486bd5266f42f6 |
Vergil, a native of Urbino, was an Italian cleric. He was sent to England in 1501 by Pope Alexander VI as a sub-collector of Peter’s Pence. He was commissioned by Henry VII to write an “official” history of England in 1505.
The first edition of his work was completed in 1534, the second in 1546 incorporating the dates of 1509 in his history. The third edition was published in 1555,the year that Vergil died and the history of his work was extended to 1538. Four other editions were later published, Basel in 1555, Ghent 1556-57, Basel 1570 and Leyden in 1651.
Sir Henry Ellis translated Vergil’s work in 1844 for the Camden Society. The translation is taken from the MSS version of the old Royal Library in the British Museum. Ellis cites that it was written in the latter part of Henry VIII’s reign but this is inaccurate.
Hall’s and the Continuation of the Hardyng Chronicles were taken from the first edition published in 1534 whereas Ellis’ translation is taken from the second edition.
The second translation is accurate accept for small and un-important exceptions. Quotations are done for the sake of convenience and reference is made back to the first edition.
The errors of Vergil’s account of the reigns of Edward IV and Richard III are numerous.
Richard, Duke of Gloucester is not mentioned as fighting at the Battle of Barnet.
· Henry VI was put to death in the Tower of London and cites that Richard, Duke of Gloucester killed him with his sword so his brother, Edward IV, would be free from further hostility.
· Richard, Duke of Gloucester is not accused of killing his brother, George, Duke of Clarence but states that Edward IV did out of fear of the prophecy that after his reign someone with the letter “G” would rule England.
· Richard is given no credit for his outstanding leadership of the Scottish-Border campaign.
Edward IV died at the age of fifty rather than at the age of forty.
Upon hearing of the news of Edward IV’s death, Richard III began his campaign to seize the throne from his nephew, Edward V. When Richard meets Buckingham at Northampton, Vergil states it was at this time that Richard revealed his plan to take the throne. Anthony Woodville and Thomas Vaughan are mentioned as being arrested. Hastings, who originally sided with Richard, now called a council meeting in St. Paul’s Church that included friends of Edward V. Some members of the council urged that Edward V should be rescued from Richard while others urged that they wait until Richard arrived in London to explain his actions. Richard supposedly declares that he realizes any harm to his nephews would mean that it could rebound to the country and him.
The princes were conveyed to the Tower to await the coronation of Edward V. The council meeting of June does not mention that Richard appeared in a pleasant mood, left and then returned in an agitated mood. Vergil cites that Richard entered the council and stated that he was in great danger, that he has not been able to sleep, eat or drink. He continues by showing his arm is withered and that Elizabeth Woodville, used witchcraft on him. Hastings, who had supported him, responded that the queen should be punished. Richard repeats the story and Hastings’ response is the same. Richard then accuses Hastings of seeking Richard’s destruction. Richard’s men enter and Hastings was taken out and beheaded.
Shaw’s sermon, according to Vergil, denies the report that Shaw referred to the princes as bastards and has Richard present at the sermon. After Richard’s coronation, Richard traveled to Gloucester and there planned to kill his nephews. Brackenbury refuses to kill the princes and it is left to Tyrell to carry out the King’s will and murders the princes. Hall, Grafton and Shakespeare would later copy Vergil’s account of the Queen’s lament upon hearing the news that her sons were dead. Vergil cites the discord between Buckingham and Richard because Richard would not give Buckingham the Hereford lands. Buckingham retires to Brecknock informing the Bishop of Ely his intent to overthrow Richard. Ely approves of Buckingham’s intent employing Reginald Bray to act as a go-between for Buckingham and Margaret Beaufort. Before the disenchantment between Richard and Buckingham, Elizabeth Woodville and Margaret Beaufort had begun to make plans to place Henry Tudor on the throne provided he marries Elizabeth of York.
Richard learned of the conspiracy and when he discovers Buckingham is the chief instigator summons him to court. Buckingham responds that he is ill. Richard leads his army towards Salisbury. Buckingham’s soldiers desert him and scatter to Brittany or Flanders. Buckingham was then beheaded.
· Vergil claims that Richard spread a rumor abroad that his wife, Anne Neville, was dying. Upon hearing of the news, she asked Richard why he was anticipating her death. It is presumed by Virgil that Richard reassures her with loving words and a few days later, she dies. Richard then focuses on his desire to marry his niece, Elizabeth of York. However, because of the counsel and her dislike for Richard, he decides to wait.
He created the account of Richard having a withered arm that proved his villainy causing his defeat at Bosworth and cites that all his men deserted him while he fought fighting alone. His statements refer to King Richard III, as spiteful practice, subtlety, sleight, malice, fraud, graceless, wicked, mischievous, frantic and mad.
Vergil is referred to as the “Father of English History”. Vergil is accused of destroying documents that contradicted his point of view and his history is the first to accuse Richard of the murder of his nephews.
His work gave the Tudors what they wanted – an account depicting crimes, faults and unpopularity that were directed to defame King Richard III. Vergil’s work is the first to develop a saga against Richard III. With his so-called History of England, the stage is set against Richard III. | English | NL | cbf6b3589d7211f67806f4f709c985d9e63993c058872fe0c269faac5f3b150f |
Prince Louis Stanislas Xavier, Count of Provence, always coveted the crown. Yet, no one thought he would really become king. Born on 17 November 1755 in Versailles, he was the third surviving on of the Dauphin Louis and his wife Maria Josepha of Saxony and far too removed from the crown for him to seriously aspire to it. But then first his oldest brother, the Duke of Burgundy, and then his father, died. Only his other elder brother, the future Louis XVI, and his grandfather, King Louis XV, stood between him and the crown.
Louis Stanislas was more confident than his older brother. Maybe that’s due to his special relationship with his governess, Madame de Marsan, Governess of the Children of France, who had charge of the royal boys until they were deemed, at about 7, old enough to start studying with a tutor (his was Antoine de Quélen de Stuer de Caussade, Duke of La Vauguyon). Louis Stanislas was Madame’s favourite.
Louis Stanislas was also the smartest and brightest of the royal boys. He enjoyed the same education as his older brother, even though he wasn’t destined to become king. He excelled in the classics. He particularly liked history and literature, loved Horace (he could quote his verses from memory), was fluent in three languages (French, Italian, and English), and knew the Bible well.
The Prince excelled in intellectual pursuits but wasn’t fond of physical activity. But he loved eating. So, although not bad looking, Louis Stanislas started to put on weight. He wasn’t the most attractive of suitors, but then his wife, Princess Maria Giuseppina of Savoy, wasn’t particularly attractive either. Mostly because her hygiene was very poor. She rarely wore perfume or even bathed, and never brushed her teeth. She was boring and, coming from a smaller court, ignorant of the many customs that regulated life at Versailles.
The couple tied the knot on 14 May 1771, but didn’t consummate their marriage for years. Yet, the Count of Provence did boast of exploits in the bedroom just to spite his older brother, who had yet to consummate his own marriage to Marie Antoinette. The two brothers often quarrelled, as did their wives. In the end, Louis Stanislas managed to overcome his aversion towards his wife and got her pregnant twice. Sadly both pregnancies ended in miscarriages.
In 1774, Louis XV died. As the new king, Louis XVI, was still childless, Louis Stanislas was, for the moment, heir to the throne. He thought he now deserved a seat on the council, so that he could exercise his influence in politics. But the king had other ideas and refused him the post. Greatly offended, the Count of Provence started travelling around France. When, in the following year, Queen Marie Antoinette gave birth to two son, Louis Stanislas fell once again down the line of succession.
Kept away from politics, the Count enjoyed a retired and sedentary lifestyle. He read a lot, gambled and lost huge sums of money, and spent time with his mistress, Anne Nompar de Caumont. But, in 1878, he had his chance to finally get involved in politics. He was among the notables who opposed the new taxes required to keep the French government afloat. New taxes would now have to be approved by the Estates Generals.
In the next Assembly of Notables, Louis Stanislas was the only one to support giving more representation to the common people in the Estates Generals. This measure was supported by the finance minister, Jacques Necker, who managed to convinced the King to adopt it. The Estates Generals convened. The Third Estate demanded tax reforms, something Louis Stanislas was absolutely against. He advised his brother not to compromise with them and give in to their requests.
Revolution broke out. As their younger brother fled, Louis Stanislas stayed by Louis XVI’s side at Versailles until the flight to Varennes. The Count of Provence and his wife left at the same time as the King and his family, but were luckier. They managed to arrived safely at their destination in Belgium. As his brother was held prisoner of the Revolutionaries, the Count proclaimed himself Regent. He also asked the various European monarch for help, money, and soldiers.
When Louis XVI died too, the Count of Provence was proclaimed king Louis XVIII of France by royalists. He moved to Verona, in the then Republic of Venice, and managed to have his niece Marie Therese, the only surviving child of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, freed from her prison. He wanted her to marry her first cousin, Louis-Antoine, Duke of Angoulême, the son of the Count of Artois. To convince her, he told her that was what her parents had wanted. Marie Therese agreed.
When, in 1796, Napoleon invaded the Republic of Venice, Louis XVIII was forced to flee once again. He wrote again to Napoleon, asking him to restore him as rightful king but to no avail. Napoleon wanted him to renounce his right to the throne but that didn’t happen either. “I may have lost my country, I may have lost my possessions, but I still have my honor, and with it I will die,” Louis said. Instead, Louis XVIII and his family travelled from one European country to another. As they fell under the control of Napoleon, they were kicked out and forced to look for a new home.
Soon, Great Britain remained the only country still fighting against Napoleon, so Louis XVIII and his family settled there. The King also realised that, if he wanted back his throne, some things had to change. Too much had happened for the monarchy to be restored as it once was. He started hinting that, once he was back on the throne, he would retain some of the changed wrought by the Revolution. For instance, he wouldn’t return the lands confiscated by the Revolutionaries to their rightful owners, but the latter would be financially refunded for their loss.
This allowed him to attract the support of those who were disillusioned with Napoleon’s regime without alienating ardent royalists. But when the moment for him finally came to rule, once Napoleon was defeated, Louis XVIII was held back in England by an attack of gout. He sent his bother, the Count of Artois, in his place to set up the new government.
When he finally returned, amid the cheers of the crowd, he did so as a Constitutional monarch. He issued the Charter of 1814, which included many progressive reforms: freedom of religion, a legislature composed of the Chamber of Deputies and the Chamber of Peers, and a somewhat free press. It was the best compromise between the old and new order that could have been reached. Sill, of course, many weren’t pleased. For the royalists, too much had been conceded. For the republicans, too little.
Louis XVIII had barely had time to sit on his throne when Napoleon escaped from Elba, where he had been exiled. He was forced to flee France once again. This time, Napoleon was swiftly defeated, and Louis VIII was able to take back his throne. In 1824, his health began to fail. Very obese, he suffered from gout and gangrene. He died on 16 September 1824, passing the crown to his younger brother, Charles X. He was the last French monarch to die while still ruling.
Louis XVIII by Mary F. Sanders
Tea At Trianon
The Mad Monarchist | English | NL | 57615ec5b375a7e8138f1973600ea708f4cb9c8895bed2a0b7eb2b8c0ede4f21 |
Raising Monarch Butterflies from Eggs
Collecting Monarch Eggs
I've been watching my milkweed patch for monarch butterflies because I wanted to raise some from eggs. I finally spotted one flitting from milkweed to milkweed. It's been a really dry season and there have not been a lot of any butterflies this year except for the cabbage butterflies.
Wild butterflies face a great number of dangers and only a very small fraction of eggs laid become adults. This year competition for food is fierce among predators because of the lack of greenery.
All the plants are patrolled by ants and wasps and lots of spiders, plus countless other unidentified bugs. I'm usually happy to have the garden patrolled because it means fewer pests in the garden but I wanted to collect the monarch eggs before they got eaten or parasitized and raise them in a safe place, then release the mature butterflies. Spiders and Ants eat the larva and many insects will either eat the caterpillar or will lay their eggs in them. Because I've been watering this small wild flower garden it is full of life.
Birds tend to stay away monarch butterflies and larva because they have learned that they make you sick if you eat them. Milkweed is poisonous and the caterpillar absorbs the poison and pass it on to the adults. After being sick once, the birds recognize the bright colour pattern of the monarch and avoid them. Such colour patterns are referred to as aposematic.
The monarch went from leaf to leaf and hung on to the edge. She then laid an egg on the bottom of the leaf. I've only found one egg on a leaf at a time.
To collect the eggs I got my glasses, some scissors and a plastic container. The monarch eggs are small, about 1mm across or even less. They are cream coloured and translucent. They were not all the same size some were quite small and others about twice the width.
Eggs are usually laid towards the top of the plant and usually on the bottom of the leaf.
I had watched her and went to those milkweed plants first. I expected all the eggs to be on the underside of the leaves but one was right on top. I struck gold and found 8 eggs and the tiniest caterpillar I have ever seen.
He was not any longer than 3 mm. I cut out the section of leaf where he was sitting along with the pieces of leaves where the eggs had been attached.
To be successful in raising monarch butterflies from eggs you have to have a steady supply of organic milkweed to feed them. My patch was flourishing and had come back with a vengeance. Lucky because the new seeds I had planted had not come up very well because of the drought.
As a bonus, the plants flowered and attracted more bees and little skipper butterflies, than any other on the property except the catnip patch.
Here is my page about growing milkweed.
Eggs hatch and larva (caterpillar) starts eating
I put my pieces of leaf with eggs into plastic containers. I had prepared them by putting a damp paper towel in the bottom.
The leaves have to stay fresh until the eggs hatches then I can feed the tiny monarch larva new leaves.
Eggs take 3-4 days to hatch. It depends on the temperature. The eggs get a little dark spot at one end and the tiny caterpillar comes out.
His job then is to eat as much as he can and grow. He will have to moult 4 times, each time shedding his skin and growing. Eventually after about 2 weeks he'll make himself a cocoon and and emerge a fully grown butterfly about 2 week later.
I don't think that raising monarch butterflies from eggs is particularly difficult but you have to keep them clean and fed, just like regular babies really.
Scientists call the different sized caterpillars instars. Each time they moult it is a new instar. The caterpillar that has just come out of the egg is the first instar, after the first moult it becomes a second instar, and so on.
The caterpillar is called a larva, while the cocoon is called a chrysalis.
Little caterpillar is a day old and has eaten a huge amount. He's munched all the irregular section of the leaf. He has pretty much doubled in length too. It's quite amazing how fast this little first stage instar has grown.
Growing fast makes a lot of sense. The faster he can get bigger, the less time he has to get eaten by predators and the more likely he is to survive long enough to reproduce.
These little guys about just short of an inch long. They have moulted twice already.
This caterpillar is in the process of moulting. I expected the caterpillars to shed their skins but that's not what happens. When they decide to moult, they stop eating and move off to the side. Several climbed up to the top of the container and went sort of dull coloured and their antennae went floppy. The next day they were back eating and the only sign that anything had happened was a little black bundle of old head parts on the bottom of the container. They somehow re-use their skin.
Discarded head parts can be seen after a caterpillar has moulted. I guess they can't re absorb the head parts.
The caterpillars are absolutely frantic about eating. In a day they will easily eat their weight in milkweed leaves. They grow really fast and in one day you can see a significant difference. In the period of 10-12 days they go from about 1/16 of an inch to as much as 1 1/2 inch long.
This caterpillar has moulted 4 times and is referred to as a fifth instar. Shortly he will change his shape and become a crysalid.
With all this eating comes a lot of droppings. This caterpillar produced this poop in less than one day, in fact there is more than the photo shows. I cleaned the containers every day.
Caterpillar droppings are referred to as FRASS.
The day after the last photos, the caterpillar stopped eating and went to the top of the container and attached himself to the lid with silk. He attaches himself by the rear end. In this photo this is on the right. You can barely see a little silk button.
This silk attachment is really strong. At first he is stretched out on the lid, but later he drops and dangles from his bottom end in a sort of J shape. All this takes about a day.
At first if I touch them gently they sort of respond but later they don't seem to feel the touch.
The caterpillar gradually lets go and starts dangling. After a few hours he will be in the J position.
email me if you find mistakes, I'll fix them and we'll all benefit: Christine | English | NL | 54db521d9c7684b2e570d541033f1772cde5a0aa31f3d9635768f3485a75708c |
Craig Ellwood was born in 1922 in a small town in Texas and moved to Los Angeles with his family, as a child.
Mostly self-taught, Ellwood received his education through evening courses in structural engineering at the UCLA(University of California Los Angeles) that, together with the apprenticeship in a construction company, gave him a deep understanding of construction processes and allowed him to achieve international recognition and success as an architect.
Big fan of Mies van der Rohe, Ellwood showed his influence -among many other acclaimed projects- in the Security Pacific Bank Building at Wilshire Boulevard and at the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, designed in 1976. Craig Ellwood, for both his residential and commercial works, used steel frame construction to achieve stunning effects.
In the late 1970s he retired as an architect to focus on his passion for painting. Craig Ellwood died in 1992, at the age of 70 in his house in Italy close to Florence.
(photo via Getty) | English | NL | 490498dbb9781bba34c9c92fe0281d450b66836cf60a284e6f9cec5457cda005 |
Thanks to the generosity of David Wilmshurst here, we have this passage from Bar Hebraeus, Chronicon Ecclesiasticum, iii.198-200, which does not show the great translator from Greek to Arabic, Hunain ibn Ishaq, in a very favourable light:
There flourished at that time the doctor Hunain, son of Isaac, the translator of books of medicine. He quarrelled with Israel, the doctor of Tifur, and accused him to the caliph al-Mutawakkil, saying, ‘This Israel worships an image or an idol in his house, and is a Christian in name only.’ The caliph then sent agents to search Israel’s house, and they found an image of the Mother of God which they brought to the caliph. Hunain swore that this was the image he had referred to. Then Israel said, ‘If it is an idol, spit on it.’ But Hunain did not dare to spit on the image. The caliph thereupon summoned the catholicus to him, and asked him about the image. He asked whether the catholicus recognised it or not; and if he did, what punishment was fitting for a man who spat on it. The catholicus replied, ‘It is not an idol, but the image of our Lord’s mother. Any Christian who despises it deserves to be excommunicated.’ And so, at the order of the caliph, the catholicus anathematised Hunain and deprived him of ecclesiastical communion.
But Hunain gives his own account of it in the Letter on his misfortunes, which is quoted by Ibn Abi Useibia, as I mentioned in previous posts. An English translation of a substantial chunk is in Dwight F. Reynolds, Interpreting the self(2001), p.107-118. After describing the envy of his co-religionists, all Nestorians employed as doctors by the Abbasid caliph, he writes:
Bakhtishu` the physician 3succeeded in setting in motion a plot against me by which he was able to place me in his power. This he did by means of an icon depicting the Madonna holding Our Lord in her lap and surrounded by angels. It was beautifully worked and most accurately painted, and had cost Bakhtishu` a great deal of money. He had it carried to the court of the caliph al-Mulawakkil,4 where he positioned himself to receive the icon as it was brought in. and to present it personally to the caliph, who was extremely impressed with it. Bakhtishu`, still in the caliph’s presence, began kissing the icon repeatedly.
“Why are you kissing it?” asked Mutawakkil.
“If I do not kiss the image of the Mistress of Heaven and Earth, your Majesty, then whose image should I kiss?”
“Do all the Christians do this?” asked Mutawakkil.
“Yes, your Majesty,” replied Bakhtishu`, “and more properly than I do now. because I am restraining myself in your presence. But in spite of the preferential treatment granted the Christians. I know of one Christian in your service who enjoys your bounty and your favors, but who has no regard for this image and spits on it He is a heretic and an atheist who believes neither in the oneness of God nor in the Afterlife. He hides behind a mask of Christianity, but in fact denies God’s attributes and repudiates the prophets.”
“Who is this person you are describing?”
“Hunayn the translator,” said Bakhtishu`.
“I’ll have him sent for,” said Mutawakkil. “and if what you say turns out to be true. I’ll make an example of him. I’ll drop him in a dungeon and throw away the key; but not before I’ve made his life miserable and ordered him tortured over and over until he repents.”
Bakhtishu` said. “With your Majesty’s permission, might his summons be delayed until such time as I return?” Mutawakkil assented to his request.
Bakhtishu` left the palace and came to see me.
“My dear Hunayn,” he said, “you should know that someone has presented the caliph with an icon. He’s quite taken with it and thinks it’s of Syrian origin. He keeps saying how marvelous it is. If we let him keep it. and praise it in his presence, he’ll never stop dangling it in front of us and saying, ‘Look! It’s a picture of your god and his mother!’ He has already said to me, ‘Look at this wonderful image! What do you think of it?’ I told him, ‘It’s a picture like the ones they paint on the walls of bathhouses and churches or use in decorations; it is not the kind of thing we are concerned about or pay any attention to at all.’ He said. So it means nothing to you?’ ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘Spit on it, then, and we shall see if you are telling the truth.’ he said. So I spat on it and left him there laughing up a storm. Of course I did this just so he would get rid of it and stop provoking us with it and making us feel different from everyone else. If someone gives him the idea of using it against us, the situation can only get worse. So. if he calls for you and asks you questions like the ones he asked me. the best thing to do is to do what 1 did. I have spread the word among the rest of our friends who might see him, and told them to do the same.”
I fell for this stupid trick and agreed to follow his advice. Barely an hour after he left, the caliph’s messenger arrived to summon me. When I entered the caliph’s presence, I saw the icon before him.
“Isn’t this a wonderful picture. Hunayn?”
‘Just as you say. your Majesty.”
“What do you think of it? Isn’t it the image of your god and his mother?”
“God forbid, your Majesty! Is God Almighty an image, can He be depicted? This is a picture like any other.”
“So this image has no power at all, either to help or to harm?”
“That’s right, your Majesty.”
“If it’s as you say, spit on it.”
I spat on it, and he immediately ordered me thrown in prison.
Then he sent for Theodosius, the head of the Nestorian church.5 The moment he saw the icon, he fell upon it without even saluting the caliph and held it close, kissing it and weeping at length. A retainer moved to stop him, but the caliph ordered him away. Finally. Theodosius—after much weeping—look the icon in his hand, stood up. and pronounced a long benediction on the caliph. The caliph answered the greeting and ordered him to take his seat. Theodosius sat down holding the icon in his lap.
Mutawakkil said. “What do you think you are doing taking something from in front of me and putting it in your lap without permission?”
“Your Majesty ,” said Theodosius, “I have more right to it. Of course the caliph—may God grant him long life!—has precedence over us all, but my faith does not allow me to leave an image of the Holy Family lying on the ground, in a place where its sanctity is unrecognized, or even in a place where its sanctity might not be recognized. It deserves to be placed where it will he treated as it deserves, with the finest of oils and most fragrant incense bunting before it continually.”
The caliph said. “Then you may leave it in your lap for now.”
“I ask your Majesty to bestow it as a gift to me, and to deem it equivalent to an annual income of a hundred thousand dinars, until I can discharge the debt I owe your Majesty. Your Majesty will find me ready to grant any request he may make of me in the future.”
“I give you the image.” said the caliph. “But I want you to tell me how you deal with someone who spits on it.”
Theodosius replied, “If he is a Muslim, then there is no punishment, since he does not recognize its sanctity. Nevertheless, he should be made aware of it, reprimanded, and reproached—in accordance with the severity of the offense—so that he never does it again. If he is a Christian and ignorant, people are to reproach and rebuke him, and threaten him with awful punishments, and condemn him. until he repents. At any rate, only someone totally ignorant of religion would commit such an act. But should someone in full command of his own mind spit on this image, he spits on Mary the Mother of God and on Our Lord Jesus Christ.”
“And how must you deal with such a person?”
“I, your Majesty, can do nothing, having no authority to punish with whip or rod, nor do I have a deep dungeon to imprison him in. But I can excommunicate him and forbid him to enter the church and to partake in Communion, and I can prohibit Christians from intercourse or conversation with him, and I can make life a severe trial for him. He would remain an outcast among us until he repents and recants. Then he must move through the community and disburse a part of his wealth in alms to the poor and the downtrodden, and observe all the prayers and fasts. At that point we invoke our Scripture—’If ye forgive not the sinners, your own sins will not be forgiven you’—and lift the ban of excommunication on the offender, and all would be as it was before.”
Then the caliph ordered Theodosius to take the icon, and told him to do as he liked with it. and gave him a hundred dirhams, telling him to spend it on his icon. After he had left the caliph sat a while marveling at him and his lose and adoration for his god.
“This is a truly amazing thing,” said the caliph, and then ordered me brought in. He called for the ropes and the whip, and ordered me stripped and spread before him. I was struck a hundred lashes. Then the caliph ordered that I be confined and tortured, and that all my furnishings, riding animals, books, and the like be carried off. My houses were destroyed and the wreckage was dumped in the river. I remained confined in the palace for six months under conditions so appalling that I was transformed into an object of pity for those who saw me. The beatings and the tortures were repeated every few days.
I remained thus until the fifth day of the fourth month of my imprisonment, when the caliph fell ill. He became so ill that he was unable to move or stand: everyone, including him. gave up any hope of his recovery. Nevertheless, my enemies the physicians were at his bedside day and night to attend to him and administer his medicines. All the while, they would continue to bring up my case to him: “If your Majesty would only rid us of that heretical atheist he would be ridding the world of a great menace to religion.”
They continued pressing him to do something about me, accusing me of all sorts of vile things in his presence, until finally he said, “So what would you have me do with him?” “Get rid of him once and for all,” they replied. In the meantime, whenever one of my friends came to ask about me or tried to intercede for me, Bakhtishu` would say. “That, your Majesty, is one of Hunayn’s disciples; he holds the same opinions as his master.” Thus, the number of people who could help me diminished whereas the number of people plotting against me increased, and I despaired of my life. At last, in the face of their persistent demands, the caliph said. “I’ll kill him first thing tomorrow morning and spare you any more trouble on his account.” The whole lot of them were greatly relieved and returned cheerfully to their own affairs.
A palace functionary informed me that I had been condemned. With distraught mind and aching heart, in terror of what was to befall me on the morrow, innocent, having done nothing to deserve such a punishment, nor committed any offense other than falling victim to a plot and playing into the hands of mv enemies, I beseeched God Almighty to vouchsafe me such providence as He had shown me in the past. I prayed: “Dear God. You know I am innocent, and You are the one to save me.” At last my anxiety gave way to sleep.
Then I felt someone shaking me. and heard a voice say. “Rise and praise God, for He has delivered you from the power of your enemies. He will cure the caliph at your hands so put your heart at rest.”
I awoke terrified. “Since I invoked Him while awake,” I thought, “why deny having seen Him in my sleep?” And so I prayed continuously until the break of day.
When the eunuch arrived and opened my door earlier than usual, I thought, “The time is all wrong—they are going ahead with it after all. My enemies’ triumph is at hand.” I begged God for His help.
The eunuch had been sitting only a moment when his page arrived accompanied by a barber, “Come, fortunate one,” said the eunuch, “and have your hair cut.” After the haircut, he took me to the bath and had me washed and cleaned and perfumed on the caliph’s orders. When I emerged from the bath the eunuch put splendid clothes on me and left me in his booth, where I waited until the rest of the physicians arrived. Each took his appointed place. The caliph called out, “Bring in Hunayn!”
Those assembled had no doubt that he was calling me in to have me executed. Seeing me, he had me approach closer and closer until I at last sat directly before him. He said, “I have gratified a well-wisher of yours and forgiven you your crimes. Give thanks to God for your life, then treat me as you see fit, for I have been ill too long.”
I look his pulse and prescribed cassia pods, handpicked off the stalk, and manna, which were the obvious things to prescribe for his constipation.6
“God help you, your Majesty, if you take his medicine,” clamored my rivals, “it can only make your condition much worse.”
“Do not try and argue with me—I have been commanded to take whatever he prescribes,” said the caliph. He ordered the drug prepared and took it at once.
Then he said. “Hunayn, acquit me of all I have done to you. The one who interceded for you is powerful indeed.”
“His Majesty is blameless in his power over me. But how is it that he spared my life?”
The caliph spoke up: “Everyone must hear what I am about to say.” They gave him their full attention and he said:
“As all of you know, you left last night under the impression that I was going to execute Hunayn this morning, as I had promised, last night. I was in too much pain to fall asleep. About midnight. I dropped off. and dreamed that I was trapped in a narrow place, and you my physicians, along with my entire retinue, were far off in the distance. I kept saying, ‘Damn you, why are you staring at me? Where am I? Is this a place fit for me?!’ But you sat silent, ignoring my cries. Suddenly a great light shone upon me as I lay there, a light that terrified me. And there stood before me a man with a radiant face, and behind him another man dressed in sumptuous clothes. The man before me said. ‘Peace be with you,’ and I answered his greeting. ‘Do you recognize me?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I said.
‘I am Jesus Christ,’ he said.
I trembled and shuddered in terror and asked, ‘Who is that with you?’
‘Hunayn ibn Ishaq.’
I said, ‘Forgive me—I cannot rise to greet you.’
He said. ‘Pardon Hunayn. and absolve him of his crime, for God has forgiven him. Take what he prescribes for you and you will recover.’
“I awoke unable to stop thinking about what Hunayn had suffered at my hands, and marveling at the power of his intercessor. Now it is my duty to restore to him what was rightfully his. You are all dismissed: it is he who shall attend me. Every one of you who asked me to take his life shall bring me ten thousand dirhams as blood-price. Those who were not present need pay nothing. Whoever fails to bring this amount will lose his head.”
Then he spoke to me: “You may take your appointed seat.”
The group dispersed and each member returned with the ten thousand dirhams. When all they had brought had been collected, the caliph ordered that a like amount be added from his own treasury, for a total of more than two hundred thousand dirhams. and ordered it handed over to me.
By the end of the day, the medicine had moved his bowels three times, and he fell the onset of recovery. “All you wish. Hunayn, is yours,” he said, “for your standing is much enhanced in my eyes, and you are far more important to me than ever before. I shall restore your losses many times over, reduce your rivals to abject dependence upon you, and elevate you above all of your colleagues.”
Then he commanded that three houses belonging to him personally be renovated. They were houses the likes of which I had never occupied in all my days, nor known any of my fellow physicians to own. Everything I needed—furniture, bedding, utensils, books, and the like—was delivered as soon as the houses were made over to me. This was confirmed in the presence of notaries in view of the substantial value of the houses—a figure in the thousands of dinars. In this way. the caliph, out of concern and affection for me, wanted to ensure that the houses would belong to me and my children without anyone being able to contest our right to them.
When all his instructions regarding the transport of the property to the houses had been carried out, including the installation of curtains and hangings, and there remained only the matter of actually moving in, the caliph ordered the money due me, multiplied many times over, brought before me. He then had me conveyed in a train of five of his best mules, with all their trappings. He also gave me three Greek retainers, and granted me a monthly stipend of fifteen thousand dirhams, which, in addition to my accumulated back pay from my time in prison, added up to a substantial sum. Furthermore, his servants, the women of the harem, and the rest of his family and retainers, contributed countless moneys, robes of honor, and parcels of land. In addition, the services I used to perform outside the caliphal residence were transferred, in my case, to the interior of the residence. I became the leading representative of the physicians—my allies as well as the others. This crowned my good fortune: this is what the enmity of evildoers wrought. As Galen said, The best of people are those who can turn the animosity of evil men to advantage.”
It is certainly true that Galen suffered great tribulations, but they were never as bad as mine.7
I can indeed tell you that, time and again, the first people to scurry to mv door and to ask me to intercede for them with the caliph, or to consult me on an illness that had baffled them, were the same rivals who had inflicted upon me the miseries I have already described to you. And I swear by the God I worship, the First Cause, that I would show them goodwill, and hasten to do favors for them. I bore no grudges against them, nor did I ever avenge myself on them for what they did to me. Everyone marveled at the goodwill with which I performed services for my rivals, especially when people heard what my rivals were saving about me behind my back, and in the presence of my master, the caliph. I would also translate books for them on request, without profit or reward, whereas in the old days I used to earn the weight of the translated work in gold dirhams.8
I have recounted all this for no other reason than to remind the wise man that trials may befall the wise and the foolish, the strong and the weak, the great and the small. Those trials, although they respect no differences of degree, must never give him cause to despair of that Divine Providence which shall deliver him from his affliction. Rather, he must trust, and trust well, in his Creator, praising and glorifying Him all the more. Praise the Lord, then. Who granted me a new life, and victory over my oppressors, and Who raised me above them in rank and prosperity. Praise Him ever anew and always.
This is Hunayn’s entire statement as given in his own words.
This is rather a splendid translation, isn’t it? I don’t know if it is by Dr Reynolds himself, but if so I wish he would do more! The notes are also rather interesting:
3.Bakhtishu` ibn Jibra`il, like Hunayn, was a Nestorian Christian court physician. He was known for his enormous wealth and his “erudition, loyalty, integrity, charity and perfect adherence to manly conduct” (Ibn Abi Usaybi`a. `Uyun al-anba, 201- 9). Ironically, he is said to have had his own difficulties with the caliphs: both al- Wathiq and al-Mutawakkil dismissed him and confiscated his property, in both cases because of plots hatched by jealous or suspicious rivals.
4.The tenth `Abbasid caliph, reigned 847-61.
5.The head of the Nestorian ecclesiastical hierarchy was called thecatholicos. Theodosius held this office from 853 to 858 C.E.
6. Cassia pods (Ar.khiyar shanbar) are produced by the “Pudding Pipe tree” (Cassia fistula) and pulped for medicinal use; “manna” (Ar.taranjubin) is the sugary exudate of the flowering ash(Fraxinus ornis), collected from cuts in the bark. Cassia and manna were used as purgatives or laxatives.
7. Galen is said to have lost his library in a fire.
8.Ibn Abi Usaybi`a (d. 1270) notes: “I have come across many of these books, and acquired a good number of them for myself. They are written in Muwallad Kufi script, in the hand of al-Azraq, Hunayn’s scribe. They are written in a broad hand, with a thick stroke, and in widely separated lines, on sheets twice and three times as thick as today’s paper, and cut to a size one-third of standard Baghdadi paper. Hunayn produced his books in this way to increase the size and weight of the volumes because he was paid their weight in gold dirhams. Since the paper he used was so thick, it is little wonder that his works have survived all these many years.” Ibn Abi Usaybi`a, `Uyun, 270-71.
The last note is very interesting indeed! Who would have thought that this motive would exist, or create conditions for improved preservation? The books had survived from ca.850 AD to the 1250’s — 400 years.
I remember a colleague at university, who found his research results rather thin. So he arranged for his thesis to be typed up on thick, good quality paper, in order to give it more bulk. In his viva voce, the examiners complimented him on the quality of his … paper! | English | NL | cd69bd499a2daa5ddc8a0b210f1a1b811bdd2c46d142dfc87493395b3d4b171f |
Week Five - Day Two
What is Truth?
Luke 24:13-18 - That very day two of them were going to a village named Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and they were talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing together, Jesus himself drew near and went with them. But their eyes were kept from rec- ognizing him. And he said to them, “What is this conversation that you are holding with each other as you walk?” And they stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, named Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?”
Luke 24:25 - And he said to them, “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken!”
Can you picture the scene? As Jesus joins the disciples on their walk, he casually asks what they are discussing. The two men are so surprised their companion is naive, they actually stop walking. “Are you the only visitor who does not know?” they ask. As evidenced by their re-telling in verses 19-24, these men know the facts. They even describe the empty tomb and an angel telling of the resurrection (vv. 22-23). If these men had understood Jesus’ words about his death and resurrection, they would not be confused, sad and defeated - they would be rejoicing! Despite the fact that Jesus repeatedly told his followers that he would rise again (Mark 8:31, Mark 9:31, Mark 10:33-34, John 2:19, John 11:25-26), they didn’t wholly understand. Mark 9:32 says, “But they did not understand the saying, and were afraid to ask him.”
Jesus’ followers were expecting an earthly king that was prophesied about in Gen- esis 49:8-10 and 2 Samuel 7:16. For their Messiah to su er, die, and resurrect did not fit the Jews’ expectation for their king. It did not fit their understanding of ”truth” even though it had been foretold many years before Jesus was born.
Isaiah 53 is a text that speaks prophecy about the coming Messiah. Isaiah describes a Savior who su ers and dies; but, in verses 10-12, he also describes this Savior to “see his o spring” (v. 10), have a long life (v. 10), and be given a hefty reward for his work (v. 12). These are not things of a dead Savior, but one whose death has brought victory. It is possible that the Jewish concept of the Messiah being a political king was an Old Testament understanding mixed with the beliefs of neighboring nations. Moses prophesied a Savior similar to himself, with leadership of the nation. It had been promised to David that the Messiah would be from his royal line. But, the whole understanding of who the Messiah would be was not understood by the two disciples on the road. It required Jesus to correct their understanding with the Scriptures.
- What false "truths" (acceptable social opinions, political ideologies, scientific theories, etc.) are you clinging more to than God's word about himself?
- What would happen if you believed all of what the scriptures say? If this is difficult to understand, consider some of Jesus' teaching in Matthew 5-7. | English | NL | ace17dccc48adf030cbf4eacf39b89e60850e207446acb496a03a5d959eac200 |
Mashile studied Law and International Relations at Wits University and is an actress, poet, producer and performer. Her poetry collection, In A Ribbon of Rhythm won the NOMA Award for African Publishing in 2006. It was published in 2005 by Oshun Books.
I have a personal feel for this book. A friend gave it to me some time ago in exchange for a book gift I had given. I was not particularly expectant but Lebogang Mashile’s natural ability to thread words into the mind and inspire feelings of a most tenacious nostalgia pursued me. She has succeeded in bringing a silky and sweet quality in her first publication.
The easy going-ness of this collection is what makes it unique. Many poets(and perhaps writers) enjoy taking their ideas to paper in such a way that the reader is temporarily baffled at some point or even tempted to write the work off as a conundrum and put it away completely. This is not the case with Mashile’s work, and even though I did not know her prior to this, she has gained my respect and continual interest in whatever she does next.
My favorite poem is You and I, and here is an excerpt:
You and I
We are the keepers of dreams
We mould them into light beams
And weave them into life’s seams
Another poem worth mentioning is Tomorrow’s Daughters, which acknowledges young black girls that want to contribute to the changes that we all want to see around us, that take it upon themselves to “wear crowns of change.” Mashile’s work is positive in this particular poem. In other poems, her words are more mature, direct and rather loud. She is not afraid to delve into taboo topics that may make others cringe, and then suddenly write about her need to enjoy a pizza.
Mashile was born and partly raised in America to exiled South African parents. Therefore, it is only natural that the influence of the culture that surrounded her in her earlier years comes through in the manner in which she expresses herself. That being said her poetry is nothing but African, with no pretences or attempts to distance herself from her fellow Africans and “tomorrow’s daughters”. | English | NL | 5545255dd437a00943110a21cc1f7004c4b702d010ff1784a6739bd1645a2233 |
St. Joseph Catholic Church in New Waverly dates back to 1869
Clara Malak likes history.
She has a real affinity for genealogy too.
But what she truly loves is the parish of St. Joseph Catholic Church in New Waverly.
“And I have to be careful that I don’t love the church building too much,” said Malak, the church’s long-time organist.
Malak has been a part of the church for 52 years marrying into the Malak family in 1966. The ancestors of her late husband Joe Malak Jr., however, has been affiliated with the church since its beginning in 1869.
So it’s always with excitement that she and other church members look forward to the nearly 150-year-old church’s annual Labor Day Homecoming Bazaar.
The event has taken place on the Sunday of Labor Day weekend since 1951 and serves as a way connect parish members and generations of families as they celebrate the decades-long tradition of the church.
This year’s event is set for Sept. 2 at 101 Elmore Street in New Waverly. A barbecue dinner is at 11 a.m. A live auction is at 1 p.m. There will also be a silent auction, country store, grocery booth, toy booth, kids face painting and fun and games.
The evening activities begin with a raffle at 6 p.m. and a dance with a live band at 7 p.m.
Early history of the church
In 1866 a group of Waverly planters formed the Waverly Emigration Society to import foreign laborers to work on their farms. Approximately 40 families arrived the following summer and soon afterwards they were “found” by Rev. Felix Orzechowski.
According to a historic timeline of the church put together by Malak for the church’s 140th anniversary in 2009, he traveled primary by foot, eating bacon and corn bread or less, and the ground was often his bed.
In 1869 the Parish of St. Joseph was organized under Father Orzechowski’s leadership. Mass was celebrated on various farms, as no church was built during his time in this area.
The first church was a box-house type of approximately 20 by 30 feet. Its construction was overseen by Rev. Victor Linicki, who succeeded Father Orzechowski. Father Linicki also built a rectory for himself. Two lots were purchased on January 15, 1877, from the Texas Land Company for one dollar on the condition that they “shall be used exclusively as the site for a church and school building for the use and benefits of the members of the Roman Catholic Church.”
St. Peter and Paul Church
St. Joseph Catholic Church Annual Homecoming and Bazaar
This year’s event is set for Sept. 2 at 101 Elmore Street in New Waverly. A barbecue dinner is at 11 a.m. A live auction is at 1 p.m. There will also be a silent auction, country store, grocery booth, toy booth, kids face painting and fun and games. The evening activities begin with a raffle at 6 p.m. and a dance with a live band at 7 p.m. Visit stjosephnewwaverlytx.net or call 936-344-6104.
In the 1880s, farmers in the Danville area sought to have a priest from St. Joseph come to their community and conduct services because it was often difficult to travel to the Waverly community by horse or wagon.
The third St. Joseph pastor, Rev. Adam Laskie, celebrated Mass in the Danville community for the convenience of the worshipers and he encouraged them to build a church. In October 1880, 14 acres were purchased. The following June 29 the Church of St. Peter and St. Paul was dedicated. The small church was approximately 20 by 45 feet with ceiling of 12 feet. Facing west, the front had a double door and no windows. The one room structure has a seating capacity of approximately fifty, with a center aisle separating two sections of pews.
By 1887 dissension had developed and regular services were discontinued. The church remained in use for special occasions, primarily to celebrate the Feast of St. Peter and St. Paul and funerals (because of its proximity to Danville/Shepard Hill Cemetery).
Eventually all of the records from this church were transferred and recorded by St. Joseph.
According to Malak, the building was sold to Mr. Weldon in 1952 during the era of Father Rhein.
Weldon used the structure as a tack house for his horses.
At one point, the Malaks visited with Mr. Weldon to inquire about doing something with the old church structure. The only catch is that they’d have to provide him a different structure for his tack and barn equipment.
This is where the story took a tragic turn.
“While we were making arrangements and seeing about getting him a tack house, he had some workers who were doing some clearing on his property and they tore it down and burned it,” Malak said.
There was a bell that stayed on the original site of the old church. There has been talk in recent years that the bell might have been stolen and the bell’s whereabouts are currently unknown.
In the mid-1990s under Father Kalladan’s tenure a celebration was held at the Danville site on the feast of St. Peter and St. Paul.
“A dinner was held on the grounds and he celebrated mass there,” Malak said. “The people had ties there then visited the nearby cemetery. It was a really nice occassion.”
The thought was for this to become an annual celebration but that never came to fruition.
The second church and Father Bily
The second church was built in 1892 under the pastorate Rev. Theodore Jaron who saw a need for a larger church for the growing parish. The second building was designed and built by Tom Lawandorski with lumber contributed by Mrs. Catharine Ripkowski from her property in Elmina. The sills of the new church were hand-hewn with a foot adze and joined with two inch oak pins. Whole trees were cut and hewn and moved to the building site.
Father Bily was born in Luznice, Bohemia in 1859 and he came to lead the parish in 1902.
The third and present church was built in 1905. Soon after his arrival, Father Bily wanted the congregation to build a new church and they did. They bought the remainder of the block and one lot across the street. Architect L. S. Green planned the Gothic structure which cost $13,000 excluding the altars and stained glass windows. Three years after laying the cornerstone, the third and present St. Joseph Catholic Church was judged the finest and best in the South upon its dedication on Dec. 16, 1906.
The building program also included a new two-story rectory for Bily’s living quarters.
A new school was built on the property in 1909 for about 160 students.
Father Bily was a treasured member of the church community who cared much for the school and its children.
Bily also was a teacher at the school.
After being at St. Joseph’s for 19 years, the longest of any pastor there, Father Bily died of a heart attack on March 15, 1921 upon entering the school to check on the children.
In a history of the church, according to Mrs. Ripkowski, who was seven at the time, the Sisters lined the children up and lead them to the church to say a Rosary. She recalled that some children were terrified and were later sent home for the day.
Bily is buried on the church grounds in front of the sanctuary.
Interesting highlights of the church structure
If you visit the church today, there’s a large bell on a pedestal to the left of the church entrance.
According to Malak, the bell was ordered for the church tower, but it was too heavy and was unable to be hoisted up in the tower and the tower wasn’t strong enough to hold it.
Since arriving at the church, the bell has always been in the yard and it is only tolled at funerals. The current bell in the tower is from the second church.
Also of note is the hat clips on the left pews and purse hangers on the right pews.
Traditionally there was a “men’s side” and a “women’s side.” The men’s side was on the “gospel side” -the speaker’s right - and the women sat on opposite the side from which the epistle was read. The backs of the men’s pews have clips for their hats, whereas the women’s pews have hooks for their purses. The custom of separate seating was observed through the 1950s and still some of the most senior members prefer their respective sides.
Malak recalls this practice was still observed by some of the seniors when she came to the church - including her in-laws.
Families through the generations
On Sept. 17, 1966, Malak married Joe Malak Jr. and married into a long history at the church.
Joe Malak Jr.’s father, Joe Malak Sr., married at St. Joseph in 1925. Malak Jr.’s grandparents, John and Mary Ann Tafelski Malak married there in April 1891.
In 1993, Malak’s daughter Laura, married Stephen Drake, at St. Josephs making five generations of the same family to marry at St. Joseph’s.
But theirs is a story that’s repeated over and over among many of the parishioners who have had multiple generations marry in the historic church.
Multiple generations have participated in the preparations for bazaar weekend as well.
In the early years, the dance was held in the old St. Joseph’s school and the other festivities were held under tents on the grounds.
Her father-in-law Joe Malak Sr. was one of the men who did the barbecue for the celebration.
“The barbecuing would start on Friday and you could smell it all over town,” Malak said.
Her husband was in charge of the pinto beans which he was known for.
The ladies of the church made the sides and the dessert - all from scratch in the early days.
In 1969, the 100th anniversary of the church, church members wore Polish attire to celebrate the milestone and their Polish heritage.
In 2009, the church celebrated its 140th anniversary. For the occassion Clara Malak put together a timeline of the church’s history.
She became interested in the history of the church through her many discussion with member Tony Kmiecik. He had put together a booklet over the years with much of the church history and the history of the local families.
“He had a wealth of knowledge and he helped me so much,” Malak said.
The two worked to translate church records that were in Latin and Polish. Malak called it a very tedious task.
She regrets that Kmiecik did not live to see the church go through it’s major restoration in the 1980s.
Special memories through the years
Two of the fathers who made a special place in the parishioners hearts were Father Anthony Stredny from 1985 to 1992 and Joseph Kalladan from 1992 to 2005.
Stredny came over from the Cleveland area and he was known for his curly red hair and his red convertible.
Malak said Stredny was a people’s priest.
He was active in the youth organizations and would travel with them and with the adult groups. He’d regularly drop of school supplies donated out of his own pocket to make sure the school children had all they needed.
He’d often come to the Malak’s home after church council meetings asking “Clara, what have you got for dinner?”
Malak said they grieved when he left the church.
Soon came Father Joseph Kalladan however who was equally as energetic and loved to celebrate the special holidays of the church in a grand manner.
A special day in his pastorate and the history of the town of New Waverly was when in October 1996 Former Polish President Lech Walesa visited the church. He stopped by the church on his way to Sam Houston State University. A special service took place and children from the public school were bussed over for the event.
A monument outside the church now commemorates the occasion.
Malak called it a special day not only for the church but for the whole community of New Waverly.
When asked about other special memories that have stayed with her all these years, Malak thought of one night when she had just finished choir practice.
“I was standing out there in the church yard after choir practice and it was late,” Malak said. “The bells began to play the Lord’s Prayer. I’m telling you standing there in the dark if that doesn’t change your heart.”
Today, the church is lead by Father Daokim Nguyen. Nguyen came to the church in 2005 following Father Kalladan’s departure. St. Stephen the Martyr Mission in Point Blank is also under the leadership of St. Joseph.
For more information on the church or the upcoming homecoming bazaar, visit stjosephnewwaverlytx.net or call the church at 936-344-6104. | English | NL | bd1b5f4024d21ec0022cd8babe375e926ceaa590b0d522f6d2e088693e0239ab |
June 28, 1958 ‒ July 19, 2014
MANSFIELD: Morris (Shimp), Dorene Kay, 56, passed away on July 19, 2014 after being diagnosed with breast cancer on June 4, 2014. She was born on June 28, 1958 in Columbus, Ohio. Dorene was preceded in death by her mother Martha Dean and father Fred Shimp. She is survived by her sisters Vicky, Tina, Lori, and Connie. Dorene attended Mansfield Business College, receiving and associates degree in accounting. She then served the army as an E3 communication specialist. She received an honorable discharge. Dorene later attended Ashland University furthering her associates degree to a bachelors in business management. Dorene is also survived by her sons James Baldinger (married to Ginger and their three children Tyler, Hannah, and Nathan) and Joey Amick (married to Samantha and their three children Christopher, Ethan, and Charlette). She loved her family, friends, and cat. She will be missed greatly by many and remembered always.
The Marion Avenue Snyder Funeral Home is honored to serve the family with cremation arrangements. | English | NL | d58144358dd6c7f1868fdbf58dc523f3b5ad009d3fe2323a90ea385c3c030377 |
This weekend, we had the exciting opportunity to stay with Swedish families in Stockholm. Sam and I stayed with the Maunsbachs, a charming family with three middle-school-aged daughters. It was a truly unique experience. Leslie Maunsbach was born in the United States and went to Luther College before marrying her husband, Bengt, and moving to Sweden. In their home, Sam and I got to see how Swedish and American culture can mesh flawlessly.
Our host sisters insisted that the fries at Swedish McDonalds were better than the American variety, so of course we had to test it out. Over our lunch of cheeseburgers and fries, Sam and I were told a little bit about the Swedish version of the Nutcracker, which we would see that night at the Royal Opera. The ballet is another example of cultures smoothly building off of one another, just as we saw in the Maunsbach home.
I was expecting to see the ballet I was familiar with: The Nutcracker performs opposite Clara, the young girl who nursed him to health, and they enter a fantasy land filled with sugar plums and dancers from across the globe. What I saw instead was a very Swedish version of the classic Christmas Ballet. In Sweden, nutcrackers shaped like soldiers are not common, so instead, the Nutcracker is shaped like a horse, which is a popular motif here.
As we watched the ballet, we noticed more differences. Clara, the main character, is given a more suitably Swedish name: Lotta, and her brother Fritz is known as Petter. Uncle Drosselmeyer is known to the Swedes as Uncle Blue, and is accompanied by Aunt Green, Aunt Brown, and Aunt Lavender. Not only are the characters altered, but the storyline itself is changed. The Swedish version is based on a story by Elsa Beskow called Petter and Lotta’s Christmas. It is not Lotta who dances with the Nutcracker prince, but a maid, who slowly sheds her maid’s uniform to reveal that she is the Swedish version of the Sugar Plum Fairy.
The dances were also very different. It was interested to see Swedish culture imposed on Tchaikovsky’s classic music. Once Lotta, Petter and the Nutcracker entered the fantasy land, we watched snowflakes, gingerbread men, peppermint candy, Christmas crackers, and a kind of traditional Swedish Christmas flower dance, entertaining the children. The dance that stood out to me the most was when Petter emerged with three of the defeated rats on leashes and in bright red point shoes. I was surprised because I was used to that music being paired with the dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, not hairy, enslaved rats.
Coming to Sweden, I expected it to be perhaps colder than Iowa, but not too different culturally. After all, both of our countries are part of the global economy and are rapidly modernizing. However, watching the Nutcracker with my host family showed me that Sweden has a rich cultural history it is unwilling to let go of, and they are proud of the art produced in their country. The coolest part for me was that I cannot say which version of the Nutcracker is better. The version I knew before and the Swedish version certainly have their differences, but neither surpasses the other in artistry, thoughtfulness, or design. | English | NL | c3618e7a3125f6a37411ef2b2fe57ae787f95c3fe687dbe13db086e15ea76126 |
In this week's episode of Game of Thrones, Tyrion makes some staffing changes in King's Landing, Jon learns what happens to baby boys in the Craster household, and Theon discovers that you can't go home again.
The HBO drama remains first-rate, but as a hard-core fan of A Clash of Kings – Book 2 in George R.R. Martin's epic fantasy series A Song of Ice and Fire, which I've read five times – I consider no deviation from the novels to be too trivial to second-guess and nitpick.
I almost always prefer things the way they are in the books, but at least with Sunday's episode (titled "The Night Lands," after the name given by the Dothraki horse lords to the afterlife), HBO pleasantly surprised me by introducing a dark twist that's not in the novels. Without further ado, here are seven more differences between the books and the show that caught my eye.
(Spoiler alert: Minor plot points follow.)
1) Why do Yoren's prisoners look so normal?
In A Clash of Kings, Arya discovers that Yoren, the brother of the Night's Watch who rescued her from King's Landing, is transporting three recruits back to the Wall inside a wheeled cage. These men had been imprisoned in the Black Cells beneath the Red Keep, where the worst criminals are kept. Two of the men, Rorge and Biter, are terrifying and hideous. Rorge has only a gaping hole where his nose should be, and Biter has teeth filed down to points. The third man, Jaqen H'ghar, is handsome and charming, but the fact that he's been imprisoned with the other two – that in fact they seem to fear him – makes him seem very dangerous indeed.
This effect is somewhat diminished in "The Night Lands," in which Rorge and Biter seem loutish but not particularly scary. Rorge isn't missing his nose, and Biter's teeth definitely aren't as fanglike as I'd imagined. Jaqen is described in the books as having hair that's red on one side and white on the other, but if that's true in the show, it's hard to tell from this episode. So these guys come across as rather ordinary, more "drunk tank" than "Black Cells."
I hate to keep harping on this, but just as I think the actor who plays Davos really should have had his fingertips removed, I also think the guys who play Rorge and Biter should have undergone surgery to make them better match their roles. I mean, I've seen people who've had their teeth filed down to points who aren't even playing Biter, so it's definitely something you could do, and the fact that these actors didn't bother really shows a lack of commitment. I mean, come on, Davos didn't really have his fingertips chopped off? Rorge didn't really have his nose cut off? Biter didn't really have his teeth filed down? Next you'll be telling me they didn't really decapitate Sean Bean. Which brings us to ...
2) One of Dany's scouts gets decapitated?
In A Clash of Kings, the khalasar (tribe) of Daenerys Targaryen is encamped in the deserted city of Vaes Tolorro when she sends out her bloodriders (bodyguards) to scout the lands ahead. In the book, all three report back, but in "The Night Lands" we see that the first of her scouts, Rakharo, returns as a decapitated head, having fallen victim to one of the other roaming khalasars. This moment was pretty fantastic. If you're going to make changes to the story, this is the way to do it – killing off likeable minor characters that readers of the books will assume are safe. It definitely makes an impact, and really you can never go wrong with decapitations.
3) What's with the name changes?
In this episode, Theon Greyjoy returns home to Pyke for the first time since he was a child. As Theon is the only son of Balon Greyjoy, would-be king of the Iron Islands, he expects to be treated with some obsequiousness for a change. But things don't go according to plan. Not only does the first of his subjects that he meets look like the villain from I Know What You Did Last Summer, but the man is surly and apathetic in the face of Theon's boasts. Things go from bad to worse as Theon realizes that his long tenure as hostage to the Starks of Winterfell has made him suspect in his father's eyes, and that his father seems determined to assign command of the fleet to Theon's sister, Yara.
Wait, say what? What the hell is a "Yara"?
How dumb do TV producers think we are?Turns out the show has renamed Asha Greyjoy, and now she's Yara Greyjoy. Apparently someone thought "Asha" sounded too much like "Osha," the wildling woman held prisoner at Winterfell. Huh? How dumb do TV producers think we are? And how much overlap is there really between viewers who enjoy a show about byzantine political intrigue and viewers too brain-dead to distinguish two characters who look nothing alike?
This is the second time Game of Thrones has pulled this crap. It was even more ridiculous in Season 1, when the name of Lysa Arryn's areola-lapping young son was changed from Robert to Robin. (This at least had some precedent in the books, as "Robin" is his nickname.) One of the cool things Martin does in A Song of Ice and Fire is to present a world in which, just as in our world, certain personal names are common, and parents sometimes name their children after people they know and admire, which gives the world an added touch of verisimilitude. I really wish the show wouldn't have messed with that.
4) What happened to Shireen and Patchface?
Dragonstone is starting to feel seriously underpopulated. Not only has Cressen kicked the bucket (with no Pylos in evidence to replace him), but we also learn that in the continuity of the show, Stannis never had any children, so his daughter Shireen and her loyal jester Patchface presumably won't be putting in an appearance. Shireen I suppose is dispensable, but Patchface presents one of the more intriguing mysteries in the novels. He's a jester who once came close to drowning, is now severely brain-damaged, and sings nonsense songs about kingdoms he's seen beneath the waves. He also seems to have a touch of prophecy, as some of his songs later come true. He provides one of the few bits of evidence we've seen that the Drowned God worshipped by the Ironborn might be more than just a legend. It'll be interesting to see if Patchface-style babbling about realms beneath the sea will show up elsewhere in the show.
5) What's with all the non-veiled threats?
I griped last week about the scene in the previous episode, "The North Remembers," where Machiavellian mastermind Petyr Baelish, aka Littlefinger, clumsily threatens Cersei Lannister, an action which is both out of character and pretty nonsensical. Is he putting her on notice that he knows the secret of her son's parentage in order to try to gain power over her? Well, it should already be pretty obvious that he knows her "secret," since he was ostensibly cooperating with Eddard Stark's investigation, and was present, along with a few dozen other people, when Stark shouted, "Your son has no claim to the throne!" back in "You Win or You Die" from Season 1.
So that cat's kind of out of the bag at this point. And anyway, what does Littlefinger gain from making clumsy threats? If the secret were really such a big deal, this would just be inviting Cersei to off him on the spot, which she immediately threatens to do, but then lets him go, which makes no sense either. She should either kill him outright or else laugh off his threats. Making open threats you don't intend to carry out is the worst of both worlds. Littlefinger will still know her "secret," and her violent response will have confirmed beyond any doubt both that the secret is true and that she knows it can hurt her. And it's not as if she needs to remind him that she's willing or able to have him killed. She's the queen regent. That goes without saying.
There's a reason tales of political intrigue are full of references to "veiled" threats.There's a reason tales of political intrigue are full of references to "veiled" threats. It's because threats of the non-veiled variety have severe and obvious drawbacks. That's something Martin's books do a great job of capturing, but something the show is still struggling with a bit, maybe due to time pressures or out of fear that viewers will miss the subtext if things get too subtle.
Case in point is the interaction in "The Night Lands" between Varys and Tyrion. Tyrion returns to his chambers to find Varys chatting pleasantly with Shae, the secret consort that Tyrion's father forbade him from bringing to King's Landing. Varys doesn't come right out and say, "You tried to keep her secret, but I found her anyway, and I can use this against you." He doesn't have to. It goes without saying. So far so good.
In A Clash of Kings, Tyrion responds to Varys with a veiled threat of his own, but in the show he completely loses his cool, openly threatens Varys, and announces, "I know how this game is played." Um, apparently not. This game is played with veiled threats, not open ones. And speaking of open threats ...
6) Why is Craster attacking Jon?
At the end of this week's episode, Jon sneaks out into the woods beyond Craster's cabin and witnesses Craster offering a newborn babe to the White Walkers. Jon then turns around and spots Craster just as Craster starts bludgeoning him into unconsciousness. Roll credits.
I definitely wasn't crazy about that. Not only is this a huge deviation from the books – perhaps the biggest in the show so far – but it also propagates the lame Hollywood cliché that knocking someone out is both safe and easy. I mean, imagine you're Craster here. Sure, bludgeoning Jon might knock him out, but it might also kill or cripple him, in which case you've got some serious explaining to do. Or else Jon might just be like, "Ow! What the eff, Craster. Seriously, man." And then maybe stab you with his sword. Wouldn't it be better to just sneak off?
I strongly suspect that this is going to be what I think of as a "bad" cliffhanger, although in fairness to the show, a lot of my opinions about what distinguishes a good cliffhanger from a bad one first crystallized while reading A Song of Ice and Fire itself, which features a completely different cliffhanger in which a character is struck in the head and knocked unconscious, but one that I dislike just as much.
A good cliffhanger is one in which characters are placed in significant, prolonged peril, something that's going to take them a while to extricate themselves from, and you want to keep reading or watching because you want to see how they go about saving themselves. A bad cliffhanger is one in which characters are placed in transitory, inconsequential peril, and within moments of picking up the story you discover that the immediate danger has already passed, which makes the whole thing seem gimmicky. I can't always tell whether I've just witnessed a good cliffhanger or a bad one, but I certainly have my suspicions, and the more bad ones I see (especially from a particular show or writer), the more suspicious I get.
I strongly suspect that when the show picks up next week, Jon will be fine, Craster will say something grouchy to justify his actions, Mormont will tell Jon to shut up, and I'll find the whole conversation a bit forced and implausible.
7) What is Ros even doing in this show?
I continue to be befuddled as to why beautiful prostitute Ros gets so much screen time. Fantastic scenes from the books such as Gendry learning Arya's true identity are presented in an incredibly rushed way, but somehow the show finds time for all these "bonus" scenes that aren't that interesting or relevant, such as the scene in "The Night Lands" between Ros and Littlefinger. This scene doesn't advance the plot at all, and what we learn about the characters – that Littlefinger is creepy and manipulative and that Ros becomes upset when you stab her friend's baby – is nothing we didn't already know.
What's Your Take on Season 2 of Game of Thrones? ————————————————
Give us your spin on Sunday's episode of Game of Thrones, and/or your take on the HBO series so far, in the comments below. | English | NL | d9d656831c62abeb8b63c89fa1d5cb120bec015526f39b7873dd13f60fc85a62 |
13 Meanwhile, the messenger who went to get Micaiah said to him, “Look, all the prophets are promising victory for the king. Be sure that you agree with them and promise success.”
14 But Micaiah replied, “As surely as the Lord lives, I will say only what the Lord tells me to say.”
– I Kings 22
Micaiah was in a tough position. Everyone was telling him what to prophesy. They were telling him what to say that God says. His reply told of his amazing character – “I will only say what the Lord tells me to say.”
I want to live like that. I want to say what God says. No more and no less. Regardless of what anyone else is saying, I want to speak what he speaks. Often, I speak too much. He would probably have me speak less. Other times I speak very little, he would have me say more. At times, my content is way off. I am speaking what Scot thinks, not what God is telling me to say.
Speaking what he tells me to say means that I must listen. Like a parent telling a kid “Go tell Uncle Bob what you did yesterday,” God is speaking to me. He is speaking to all of us. I want to listen and tell.
Am I listening? How? Am I so busy that I don’t stop and listen?
Am I speaking? I know I am, but am I speaking he words of God?
What about you?
photo by Brooke Anderson | English | NL | d23fb317e3d17cbe172a69992d9ef02f6ac95d26af05de24f2b7e29f05354ea8 |
|They had driven to Duck Island to make love in the back seat of a Ford, sheltered by pitch darkness and the scraggly boughs of the sycamore trees.
In their gossipy Trenton neighborhood, the man and woman had to keep away from prying eyes. Frank Kasper, 28-year-old husband and father, lived at 15 Elm St.; Katherine Werner, 36-year-old wife and mother, at 5 Elm St.
But on this crisp, fall Saturday night, Sept. 30, 1939, Mr. Kaspar and Mrs. Werner caressed and kissed each other like a couple of teen-agers, excited to finally be alone. Outside the steamy windows, the only sounds were wind whistling through the marsh reeds and mallards quacking softly.
Out of the trees came a man, and in his hands was a shotgun.
One blast tore into Mr. Kaspar's face and neck, killing him instantly. Mrs. Werner, her lusty passion turned to survival instinct, broke from the car. She made it only a few feet before the birdshot blew off her right arm.
Another pump of the shotgun and a squeeze of the trigger, and she too was dead.
The police who combed the murder scene for evidence the next morning had a sickening sense of deja vu. A year earlier, a couple had been shotgunned to death on this very same, lonely roadside. Now the cops realized they had a serial murderer on their hands.
No one knew his name, so the papers invented one for him — the Duck Island killer.
For three more years, he would prowl the lover's lanes of Hamilton Township and Bucks County, Pa., gaining perverse pleasure every time he emerged from the bushes to surprise petters in their parked cars. He might steal something — but mostly, he just wanted to kill.
By the time he laid down his 20-gauge shotgun in 1942, he had accounted for six murders — and had young lovers throughout the Trenton area quaking in fear.
"It's spooky enough just to drive through Duck Island at night and see the woods," remembered William "Bud" Glover, who was a teenager in Hamilton in the '30s. "But to know there was a madman with a shotgun out there, it sent chills through you."
Duck Island is not an island, but rather a low-lying, triangular peninsula washed by marshy estuaries that flow into the Delaware River. In the late 19th century, the streams forming the island's northern boundary were filled in with ashes from the Roebling steel plant and mucky river dredgings. Upon this surface were built brick kilns, oil depots and Duck Island Road.
It was nature's perfect lover's lane.
The stretch of macadam was lightly traveled, and once you parked off the shoulder, the thick underbrush concealed whatever forbidden behavior went on inside your car. From the crowded neighborhoods of South Trenton and Chambersburg, where everyone gossiped endlessly about each other, it took only a few minutes to scoot south to Duck Island and privacy.
This was where the first of the killer's victims came, on Nov. 8, 1938.
They were Vincenzo "Jim" Tonzillo of Walnut Avenue and Mary Myatovich of Steamboat Street, and they had special reason to keep their affair quiet. The 20-year-old Tonzillo was married — and Myatovich, 15 years old, was not his wife. The teen girl's father had discovered their affair and, furious, ordered her not to leave the house at night.
But Tonzillo still arranged to pick up his teen-aged lover about 7 p.m. and drive to their usual rendezvous at Duck Island. Outside, it rained, turning the soil into a muddy morass. Inside the car, the two lovers were warm and comfortable as they undressed each other.
A man with a shotgun pulled the door open.
"This is a stickup," he said.
Tonzillo, frightened and embarrassed, could barely move. It didn't matter. The gunman shot him dead right there, letting his body drop out of the back seat and into a puddle.
Myatovich was ordered out of the car. When she tried to run, the intruder sadistically shot her square in the buttocks. Then he raped her.
At 8:30 p.m., the headlights on another car caught Myatovich lying next to the car, gasping for help. Who did it? she was asked. "A big Negro," she sputtered.
For 36 hours, Mary Myatovich lingered at St. Francis Hospital, unable to add much to her description of the killer. Five homeless black men who camped in the shanties of Duck Island were rounded up for questioning. One was brought before her. "He's too big," was all she could say. She died on Nov. 10.
The police had two shotgun shells at the scene, a palm print on the car that didn't belong to either of the victims — but no leads. Prosecutor (and future Trenton Mayor) Andrew Duch was convinced that a jealous relative of either Myatovich or Tonzillo had a role in the killings. But he couldn't prove it.
The Sunday morning of Oct. 1, 1939 dawned bright and warm over Duck Island. For Pemberton Wemmer, it was the ideal time to scavenge the scrub brush for junk, deposit bottles and coins. You never knew what you might find here; a week ago, Wemmer had discovered a woman's artificial leg.
This morning, as he saw a foot poking out from a trash heap, it looked like the scavenger had found another false leg. He gave a tug. >From the mound of garbage came a woman's body. She was Katherine Werner.
She had been shot twice. Then the gunman had bashed her head in with a concrete slab and swiped her watch. About 100 feet away was the Buick, with Kaspar dead in the back seat.
Now the Duck Island killer had claimed four lives. The Mercer County Board of Chosen Freeholders posted a $1,000 reward. The Hamilton police warned everyone from using their township as a ground for trysts, but patrolled Duck Island to protect the spooners anyway.
More people on the island were rounded up and questioned, usually for no reason other than the fact they were black. And still there were no leads.
The Duck Island killer didn't return to Duck Island. He struck next on Nov. 2, 1940 outside Morrisville, Pa, wounding a man but allowing him to survive.
The killer waited only two more weeks before coming back — on Hamilton's Cypress Lane.
The victims were once again lover-neighbors in a secret tryst: Louis Kovacs, 25, and Carolina Morconi, 27, both of Roebling Avenue. They had parked amid the thickets of scrub oak and catbriars and gunned down at such close range that powder marks burned both man and woman.
"We are up against a lunatic, a man obsessed with a sex mania, probably a religious fanatic," said Duch, who had already discarded his theory of a jealous spouse as the culprit.
Now the Duck Island case was getting national attention. In 1941, American Weekly magazine did a story on it, breathlessly — and inaccurately — telling of a killer who came out on full moon nights. In fact, none of the murders coincided with a full moon.
"With the full moon at his back," the article reported, "three times the strange petting-party raider crept from the underbrush along a secluded lane and blasted thr lives from an unsuspecting couple trysting there."
American Weekly went on to insist that the killer would certainly strike again in 1941.
But the shotgun killer was quiescent all year, and on Dec. 7, America was suddenly at war with Japan. Trentonians temporarily forgot about the menace of the sex maniac.
They were reminded of his presence on April 7, 1942.
This time the shotgun killer's targets were a newly inducted soldier, John Testa, and his girlfriend, Antoinette Marcantonio, parked on a road in Tullytown, Pa. Testa lost his right arm to a blast of pellets, Marcantonio was clubbed over the head with the gun stock.
But the couple survived. And cops now had a much better description of the gunman. Even better, they had the wooden forearm of the 20-gauge shotgun which fell off when Marcantonio had been clubbed.
On the wooden stock was the serial number "A-639." After laborious records-checking that took more than a year, Hamilton cops and state troopers discovered it been pawned and redeemed at Krueger's Pawn Shop on South Broad Street. The man who had the ticket told detectives he'd given it to someone else: a medium-sized black man from Hamilton named Clarence Hill.
Who was Clarence Hill? He was married, worked as a laborer and taught Sunday school at the Mount Olivet Baptist Church, near his home on Wilfred Avenue. In late 1942, he had been drafted into the Army, and stationed in Georgia.
But under his respectable surface, Hill was the very picture of a sex pervert. He had lured some of his girl students to seamy sex trysts and fathered a baby with one of them, a 16-year-old. One of his closest friends told police: "When he could have intercourse with them, he would have it."
In December 1943, the Army arranged for the murder suspect to be transferred to Fort Dix, where Mercer County authorities questioned him. "I did those murders," he told them. What murders? "Duck Island."
Under closer questioning, the 34-year-old Hill spilled the whole, cold-blooded story of why he stalked lover's lanes.
"I just went there to see if I could see any parked cars there with girls and fellows in them screwing and to see if I could get a chance to bother around with a ... girl," he said.
This was his calm description of murdering Kasper and Werner in 1939:
"I took a peep inside the car to see what was going on in there. I saw a fellow and a woman. They were on the back seat. To me, it appeared that they was having a screwing party.
"I jerked the door open and they both jumped up and I shot the fellow and the girl ran out the other side screaming ... I shot her, I hit her in the arm, and she went down ..."
It took a jury five hours to find Clarence Hill guilty. The prosecution said he should die; the jury recommended mercy.
Sentenced to life, Hill served fewer than 20 years. When he was paroled in 1964, he disappeared quietly into civilian life, and the man who committed the worst string of murders in Mercer County history died of natural causes on July 9, 1973.
|1939: A shotgun killer stalks lover's lane|
|By JON BLACKWELL / The Trentonian|
|* World War II began as Germany invaded Poland. In response, Britain and France declared hostilities against Germany. Poland was helpless to resist the Nazi onslaught, and the country was partition by the unholy alliance of Adolf Hitler and Soviet dictator Josef Stalin.
* America’s first television broadcast began from DuMont Laboratories in Upper Montclair. Only a few hundred people with primitive TVs tuned in.
* The first event to be televised was the opening of the World’s in New York. The fair featured such wacky exhibits as the Aquacade, Futurama and a parachute tower modeled on the Stanley Switlik tower in Jackson Towship.
|ALSO IN 1939| | English | NL | 012700976c3eb5f1551f88804c02fef1eedd8b86e78c450a2afbfd150705af34 |
In Thomas Pynchon's novel Vineland, coastal Northern California is a haunted land of dripping redwood forests and leftover hippie enclaves from the 1960s. The hippie enclaves have mostly been replaced by wineries, spas and expensive boutiques, but the forests are deep as ever. And western Sonoma County this weekend hosts one of the premier age-group long-course triathlons in North America.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
This lead from an article in Inside Triathalon:
Monday, July 26, 2004
Ooka, who is perhaps best known in the West for the novel Nobi (1951), translated by Ivan Morris as Fires on the Plain (1957), and the memoir Tsukamaru made (1948), epitomized the Japanese recruit of the latter days of the Pacific War; he was ill-trained, badly commanded, and largely abandoned by the central military bureaucracy. Conscripted in 1944 at the age of thirty-five, Ooka received three months of basic training and was subsequently sent to the front where he served as his battalion's communications man until his battalion was routed and numerous men killed. Captured in late January 1945, he was one of the few who survived, possibly because of his capture and ensuing imprisonment. Survival was very traumatic for Ooka, who was troubled that he, an unworthy soldier, had survived when so many others had not. Stahl's provocative book suggests that Ooka only began to process his guilt feelings in early, overtly autobiographical works, and that this process was actually the theme that grounded his postwar writing career. Stahl posits that writing became Ooka's survivor mission, allowing him first to process and then to come to terms with his own survival, by working through issues related to the collective Japanese war experience. ....through writing, Ooka served as a voice for the dead and those who could not speak and also as a moral conscience for the Japanese people in the process of remembering the war. In the process, Ooka also healed himself.Memory, Guilt, Mourning and Responsibility: A Writer's Pilgrimage
by Patricia Welch, review of
The Burdens of Survival: Ooka Shohei's Writings on the Pacific War by David C. Stahl
Gravity's Rainbow, p. 691:
On moonless or overcast nights, Takeshi and Ichizo take off all their clothes and splash each other with Cypridina light, running and giggling under the palms. | English | NL | b2e9e7541eb192dfd2920a628a105e5bb222692c78a83a3d8e403f0c09ce0fa7 |
Gajo Sakamoto (1895-1973) was a popular pre-WWII manga artist. He studied as a painter and subsequently drew comic strips and contributed cartoons for newspapers, magazines, and comic anthologies. With Shigewo Miyawo and others, Sakamoto helped form the Doshin Manga-kai manga artists' group. In January 1934, he started the serialization of Tank Tankuro in Yonen Club, which made him a popular artist. Other works from this period included Hora-gai Hora-taro and Janken Pon-chan. In 1940, he worked on titles such as Gara-gara Sensei, Bari-bari Hakase, and Genkotsu Osho as well as new stories for Tank Tankuro. Around this time, Sakamoto also became interested in the art of suiboku-ga (ink-and-wash painting) and studied Zen Buddhism. In 1956, Sakamoto ended his career as a manga artist to devote himself entirely to Buddhism and suiboku-ga. In 1969, he received an award for his distinguished service to children's culture from the Japan Children's Writers' Association. | English | NL | 2bf24be0b0d94c1ca269cb18a04579353075dfd807a423b9d4828f305a2c4d64 |
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri review
In most crime cases, there are not just two, but many sides to the story. Let's say a thief was caught steeling someone's wallet. The victim and the police would agree that what he did was wrong and was damaging to the owner. The thief, in return, may say that he's dirt broke with a starving child and only needed a few extra dollars for some food. Are any of these people in the wrong? Yes and no. It all depends on the people and what it is their doing. A stolen wallet case is a simple wrongdoing, but what about an emotional scaring murder?
In the case of a movie like Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, we get the case of a death of a teenager, and yet the scene was so clean that the authorities are hard pressed to even go after any suspects. So her mother decides to take action. Now what she does paints one picture about how the response has been. yet we do get another side about the complications about following the rules and not wanting to make false assumptions. So let's see how Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri looks at it’s though situation.
Single mother Mildred (played by Francis McDormand) is grieving over the loss of her teenage daughter Angela who was killed, raped, and burned. The local authorities have been investigating to find the culprits, but have yet to find any good leads. Having run out of patience, Mildred rents three billboards on a rural road with each one saying "RAPED WHILE DYING", "AND STILL NO ARRESTS", and "HOW COME, CHIEF WILLOUGHBY?". This draws immediate attention from the locals whose reaction is quite negative. Mildred's son Robbie (played by Lucas Hedges) doesn't like the attention, her ex husband Charlie (played by John Hawkes) is furious, and the majority of the town sides with the chief.
Chief Willoughby (played by Woody Harrelson) is sympathetic to Mildred's frustration and even talks with her about his complications and how he's suffering from pancreatic cancer (the reason the town is siding with him). She nevertheless keeps the billboards going, which only make town folk even angrier. She and her son are harassed and she even attacks her dentist when things get violent. It doesn't help that fellow officer Dixon (played by Sam Rockwell) is high tempered, not that bright, and takes the billboards as a personal insult.
I find it amazing that Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri was not based on any incident and is an original story. It feels like something that could have happened, because of the characters involved. It would have been easy to make this story a corrupt police and show Mildred as a hero, but like that TV show Game of Thrones, almost everyone here is within a gray area. Including Mildred and Chief Willoughby, they have their strength, but heavy flaws that don't just affect the case, but their own lives. This is another example of a character study.
Because this is a movie that relies on it's characters, the actors are phenomenal. Francis McDormand plays a woman who had already had life beaten her down, but with that extra death on her conscience, makes her a storm cloud of angst. She carries a lot of stress, but also seems to believe she has nothing more to lose. Sam Rockwell plays a different kind of…stupid that you don't see too often. He's in his own lazy bubble with the concept that as long as things stay status quo, then he'll be fine. As the movie goes further, you see everything he understands falls apart and what that does to his personality.
I'll give this five red billboards out of five. Sorry that the review is short, but there's a lot in this movie I cannot give away. It's an engaging story that's not even much of a mystery. It's a character-driven drama at heart and knows how their actions will dictate the plot. Go see Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, and understand why even with all sides of the story on the table, it's hard to tell whose right. | English | NL | de875d3ab1dde72515730b34e307e901e875b9467a796a41117f48670325f8ed |
Being involved with photographing war graves you often find that you are drawn to some graves, or individuals, or you feel that you need to remind the world of a life that was cut short by the tragedy of war. One such grave is that of a young nurse called Annie Winifred Munro.
I do not recall how I got involved with this particular grave, all I know is that I felt that a plan really needed to be made to commemorate her loss, and some investigating was done. She is buried in the Glasgow Western Metropolis and her casualty details may be found on the corresponding CWGC page. Glasgow is far from my usual stomping grounds, and while we knew that there was a headstone we had no photograph of it. I decided to ask around and by luck one of the members of the South African Branch of the Royal British Legion was able to go to the cemetery and photograph the grave for us. It was winter, and snow lay on the ground.
Annie was no longer forgotten, her record at the South African War Graves Project was just that much more complete now that the grave was photographed. Incidentally her headstone was designed by Sir Herbert Baker and “was erected to her memory by the South African Comforts Committee, under the personal direction of the Viscountess Gladstone”.
But why was Annie buried here in the first place? It is difficult to understand so many years after the fact, but the information that exists is as follows: “… on arriving in England she was sent to France, where she contracted pneumonia which obliged her to return to England. After having partly recovered from the effects of pneumonia, she desired to visit Scotland, the home of her father, but was unable to travel farther North than Glasgow. There she was taken under the care of those who had known her father; and although she received all the attention that medical skill could give her, complications set in which it was impossible to combat. She died on 6th April, 1917, at the age of 25 years, and was buried with Military Honours in the Western Necropolis, Glasgow.”
Annie had previously served in the German South West African Campaign, transferring to the hospital ship “Ebani” on 26/11/1915.
She is also recorded as serving in Gallipoli and eventually was sent to France where she contracted pneumonia. She was shipped back to England to recover, but after having partly recovered she desired to visit Scotland, the home of her father.
She is noted as having died from “Phthisis” (pulmonary tuberculosis or a similar progressive wasting disease) on the 6th of April 1917, although her record card shows her as being “very ill, progress unsatisfactory” on 07/04/1917. It is very likely that the date is incorrect as death is accepted as having occurred on 06/04/1917.
What drove Annie to visit the home of her father? was she invited over? was there some other underlying reason? She was a qualified sister and was probably well aware of how ill she had been and that there were risks attached to her travelling so far from where she was staying. Sadly she died in Scotland and in time would eventually become just another name on a headstone in a cemetery. Renewed interest in the First World War saw more and more people researching those who fought or died in that terrible war and there was a reappraisal of the role of women and nurses in the global conflict that touched everywhere on the globe. In 2012 Our own War Graves Project was already busy with the record card project that would reveal more details about the almost forgotten part that South African Forces played in the war. Annie is amongst those many names on the Roll of Honour.
She was visited by Louise Prentice Carter in July 2018 who laid flowers on her grave and paid her respects to this nurse so far from Pietermaritzburg where she was born.
William and Ellen Munro lost not only their daughter in 1917, they also lost a son in the war; Sergeant William Alexander Munro was killed at Delville Wood on 15/07/1916.
Many people have contributed to this page, although I did rely on our South African War Graves Project for most of the information. Special thanks to Louise and the Legionnaire who photographed the grave for me in 2015. There is not a lot of information to add to this story though, and the one source I did find that is new to me is from The Evening Times of 13 May 2014.
DRW © 2019. Created 12/04/2019 | English | NL | 6748ce7b7b4f198c71eead40bdceacc0032bbd7b59b75c5c33b529445c694b52 |
The tenth Vusumzi Primary School classroom is dedicated to Kevin James Medeiros, who was born in Newport, Rhode Island, on October 14, 1994. Kevin always knew the importance of education and aspired to follow the academic path required to become a counselor for those who suffered from addiction. Sadly, Kevin’s dream was never realized, because mental health issues and his own addictions got in the way. He was only 22-years-old when he died from an overdose. It was a tragic ending to a life that was filled with potential.
Kevin's main love in life was photography. His sister wrote, "Like a sunflower, Kevin sought out light everywhere: filtering through leaves on a tree, bursting in a grand finale above the horizon, and warming the sky at the start of a new day. He led each viewer’s eyes around his photographs, urging all to see what he saw and why he chose that moment. His lines drew us in, invited us along, and convinced us to stay a while. The world was so much more beautiful through Kevin’s eyes. The world was so much more beautiful because he was here."
Thankfully, Kevin lives on through all who loved him and through all who will come to know him. His family is grateful that the Vusumzi Primary School classroom is a permanent recognition of his goodness and his potential. They are also grateful that generations of Vusumzi Primary School students will read about Kevin and allow him to affect them positively and in unforeseen ways. Kevin's family trusts he will guide all children as they face life and its joys and challenges.
Universal Promise, alongside his family, believes that Kevin's hope, empathy, and kindness will find their way to Nomathamsanqa learners and urge them to be strong, to persevere, and, above all, to love themselves.
Kevin’s family sends its everlasting love to all who pass through the Vusumzi Primary School classroom named in Kevin's memory. Above all, they remind us of what Kevin believed: that all of us are absolutely good enough just the way we are.
Honored by Universal Promise for his generosity on behalf of those we serve | English | NL | e66ea465dd71a40ad8cab75ce88667850f2b71ab6a2073c663af80fde6b6afc2 |
IT is with great regret that we have to record the death of Mr. Edmund Gustavus Bloomfield Meade-Waldo, of Stonewall Park, Chiddingstone, Kent, who died on February 24, aged seventy-nine years. Only son of Mr. Edmund Waldo Meade-Waldo, of Hever Castle and Stonewall Park, he was born at Holly Brook, Co. Cork, on February 8, 1855, and educated at Eton and Magdalene College, Cambridge. His room at Eton was a menagerie of wild animals, and rumour has it that, while at Eton, his overpowering ambition was to kill one of the red-deer in Windsor forest, and that this ambition was fulfilled. In 1880 he married Ada Coralie, a daughter of the late Lord Justice Baggallay, and he and his wife went to live for some time at Rope Hill in the New Forest. The New Forest, as was only natural, brought out all that passionate love of Nature and animal life which had already begun to show itself at Eton. | English | NL | ee03366a3407db640b99fac4be03b986c6521f28007c8feb5c938c6006925228 |
If you know how to drive a car and think that you can drive anything then you need to try to truck driving as you might not get a license for it. It is very different and known how to drive a car might not get you even close to driving truck. A truck is much bigger, therefore it is much harder to control along the driveway. You might get into trouble since you wouldn’t be able to control it that easily. Next time, someone ask you if you can drive a truck, you would say that you won’t pass to drive it.
A truck need one of the highest form of license and it won’t be that easy to get it. If you remember when you were applying for a car license, you would need to pass the driving license, else you won’t get it. Fortunately, there are many ways to train yourself driving a car. You can be a porter and ask the truck driver to teach you. Of course, you need to be friend with him. Another way is for the company to find an instructor that would teach you how to drive. The moment when you learn how to drive a truck is the moment that you can apply for the job.
In this game, you won’t be dealing with driving a truck so no need to get a license, but you need to build your own truck. No, you don’t need to by the arts as that is free in this game. You just need to put to where it belongs and you would be going out a happy man. There are no timer in this game and you can pay it as long as you want or as long as you get satisfied with your masterpiece. The game can only be played with a mouse. | English | NL | 172a3febe029215f7a0e26849ba61965ccf795766172584c8438c06757a3287e |
Meet Mitchell White
Mitchell joined the staff of A&M in June 2014. He is a highly qualified forest technician and has been involved in the land and timber industry since 1981. He has extensive experience in timber procurement, timber management, timber appraisal, GPS/GIS mapping, road construction, controlled burning, site preparation, planting, and herbaceous weed control. Mitchell began his career with the Kimberly Clarke Corporation in 1981, working with them until opening his own company in 2001, MAP Forestry, which assists both corporate and private timber managers, then joining the A&M team in order to better serve his customers and clients. Mitchell loves to hunt and fish, but his passion is turkey hunting. He and his wife Pam live in Chunchula, AL. They are proud parents of their son Andrew, currently attending college. | English | NL | cb4714ac23005c5f762d0255616ae532e7da8eed4ba807df3ac21fba06651866 |
A moving story, told completely in dialogue, about a young Australian soldier in the battle of the Somme. Walking through the fields away from the front, he finds what he thinks is a stray dog, and decides to adopt it as a mascot for his company.
Then he meets Jacques, the homeless orphan boy who owns the dog. The soldier realises that Jacques needs the dog more - and perhaps needs his help as well. With stunning illustrations from Phil Lesnie, this is a deeply moving celebration of friendship in times of war.
A Soldier, A Dog and A Boy was inspired by Libby Hathorn's months of research on her uncle, who survived Gallipoli but went on to fight at the Battle of the Somme and was killed there in 1917 at just twenty years old. | English | NL | f574dd5aee86cd55f0deba2d682343bf742e78c8a6411ab77db22bc38d5fcbd5 |
John Herman Merivale was born on the 19th of May 1851 at the Cloisters, Westminster. His father was Charles Merivale, Chaplain to the Speaker of the House of Commons, later Dean of Ely and a classical scholar and author. Merivale was educated at Felsted and Winchester schools and then in 1871 became the first student at the College of Physical Science in Newcastle. He served his apprenticeship as a mining engineer at the South Hetton and Murton Collieries in County Durham. After completing this he took control of mining properties belonging to Lord Carlisle and was also appointed manager at Netherton Colliery.
Merivale developed an interest in teaching and lectured on mining subjects for night-schools at different colliery villages and between 1878 and 1880 lectured for the Mechanics’ Institute in Newcastle. In 1880 he was appointed to the newly established Chair of Mining at the College of Physical Science. He was awarded an honorary MA from Durham University in 1884.
Merivale became a partner with his father-in-law J.R. Liddell at the Broomhill Coal Company and became agent when the latter died in 1895, resigning his Chair at the same time. He was involved in trade appointments, such as arbitrations and strike awards and was called to give his services at the great Whitehaven disaster in 1910 and was one of the five mining referees in connection with the 1909/1910 Finance Act.
He was elected as a member of the North of England Institute of Mining and Mechanical Engineers in 1877, was a member of Council for 40 years, Vice-President from 1899 to 1906, President from 1906 to 1908 and Honorary Secretary and then Secretary from 1908 until his death in 1916.
He gave papers to the Institute, compiled a book, Notes and formulae for mining students, and for many years edited the Colliery manager’s pocket book.
Merivale died at home in Togston, Northumberland on the 18th November 1916 and was buried in Amble churchyard.
(These notes are based mainly on the memoir by Judith Merivale and others in Transactions – Institution of Mining Engineers 54 1916-17, 364-366) | English | NL | d61f09228084abbf301123d6e2216d1a4fdba998504bafaab86d1b4d51727c83 |
the last day of the 2718th year
"I ent goin' anywhere, hama." Tristaan grinned, clearly far more excited than the lovely witch about what was happening. Moving about the tiny, upstairs flat with a sense of calm urgency, grey eyes kept a careful watch on Sarinah.
It was so much easier to deal with his own pain than to be forced to observe someone else suffer, but he'd always felt that way. He'd been the little brother who lied and said he broke the expensive vase in the hallway when he and his sister had been chasing imaginary hatchers through the house. He'd been the dirty urchin who lied to the baker about stealing rolls from the window when it was some other street kid who only shared later because the old man had bruised his knuckles with a rolling pin. He'd been the scrawny son of a galdor who took beatings for friends who were too ill to keep up with their work schedule just so they had a chance of getting better. He'd been the one man left standing by Yulina after their failed raid on a hefty shipment of fresh opiates from Mugroba.
Here, in this ramshackle apartment begrudgingly granted to them by Silas Hawke himself, Tristaan could do nothing but watch someone else suffer—suffer the consequences of their own very real love for each other. Love he'd been afraid of. Love he'd told himself he couldn't have. Sarinah's body had grown and changed to make a new life they'd formed together and in the meantime his entire existence had been forced to grow and change alongside of her. Born a different creature, revealed to be the cursed, unwanted scrap that he was, children were illegal. Passing on such faulty genes a crime. Mingling his heritage with those of a lowly wick would have been disgusting, wrong, and downright detestable had the gods not twisted who he was before he even understood what it meant to be a golly in the first place.
Caught in the middle, dredged through the lowest of places, and told he was nothing, now he had everything:
He had family.
Had he wanted it?
Did he have a choice now?
Was this some grand apology from the Circle for selling him short at birth?
Gods, Tristaan didn't even know anymore, but he knew now what had been missing for far too much of his life—love—and he couldn't wait to hold what he and his lovely witch had (unintentionally but not ungratefully) brought together as proof.
The dark-haired passive explained when asked to keep up conversation, describing all the preparations he was making in quiet, soothing tones. He might have snuck in a snack somewhere in the process, making sure he offered water to the laboring woman with the awareness she probably wouldn't want any food. He'd pause to hold her through contractions, sing soft songs, tell stories picked up over the past several weeks he'd been working the docks when not fighting or sleeping off injuries. He was full of distractions and gentle kisses, whispered encouragement and strong, calloused hands for support.
All the while he took his time filling the bath with hot water from the stove and the lukewarm water that seemed to dribble from the tap, back and forth in the spare moments, having been told it'd be a comfortable option during some of the most uncomfortable moments. Minutes became hours and hours became houses, the afternoon fading into evening. Tristaan helped Sarinah into the steamy waters which happened to be ready in time for her to beg for them, borrowing the stool to hover by the edge of the tub and rub her lower back while humming the few tunes he knew that weren't too baudy.
"Ye can. Surely, it ent for much longer—oh—oes. All m' fault." Grinned the dark-haired passive, tongue against the back of his teeth at the olive-skinned dancer's pained accusation, "I don't remember any complaints 'til now, hama. When th' boch be th' most nanobo thing you've ever seen, that can be m' fault, too."
Fingers brushed hair from her face and his palm came to rest against her cheek for a few moments, smiling somewhat stupidly. He deserved nothing, but this sinking, helpless feeling in the face of Sarinah's very real pain made him realize with unspoken discomfort how she'd had to spend nearly the entirety of her pregnancy watching his so-called Hawke-sponsored career unfold in the Rose Arena. If she could endure months of his pointless suffering to keep them together, then he could most certainly endure a fistful of houses of her very purposeful suffering for the boch that was definitely on its way.
Into what kind of life?
Tristaan's mind drifted downward with his lovely witch's sounds of pain—her tones lower, more guttural—distracted in his own thoughts for several moments. Tired, leaning against the tub and losing himself in the darker depths of his self-doubt and fear. Was this how labor was supposed to go? So long? Was everything alright? How would they know if something was wrong? What could he do?
Gods, it was—
"What—somethin'—oh—" The dark-haired passive blinked, reaching for her as Sarinah stood, dragged back to the very real rawness of this moment and back into himself, not thinking but just doing, grey eyes wide and attention suddenly totally focused.
Something burst? Her waters, judging by the bath.
That's what she'd felt.
Slowly, cautiously, he couldn't help but smile again. Nervous anticipation and that helpless fear writhed beneath his excited expression, hands moving to support the olive-skinned witch who had clearly reached some new place in her labor. He made very ginger attempts with whatever threadbare towel was in place to dry her a little, wincing as her fingers curled into a sore shoulder,
"Somethin' wrong? Somethin' jus' right?" He had to ask, more of a whisper, moving them both toward the bed at the sound of much more urgent need, "Feel like what?" All the various instruction and advice he'd been given over the past several months seemed to flood his mind all at once, a mixed up jumble of voices and terminology, expectations and warnings. He hovered, attempting to help her find some comfortable position that no longer existed with a babe attempting to make its exit from narrow places,
"I'm here, but y' gotta talk t' me." Calloused thumbs brushed flushed, tear-stained cheeks and he fought his own anxious emotions that stung the edges of his eyes and tightened his lungs. He was known at being the quick thinker in a pinch, the ace up a sleeve in a tight spot, the one who knew what to do when no one else did.
He grinned and faked confidence, "Y' wanna push, don't you?" Finally. His brain strung syllables together and his tongue managed to get them correctly out of his mouth. That was the godsbedamned word!
But that meant—
Well. It was really time now.
"Don't fight 't, hama, if that's what y' feel. Ent no sense 'n hurtin' yerself 'r th' boch. I know ye don't wanna, I know it's all scary. Alioe knows this ent where we wanna be doin' this, but, well, th' boch doesn't know that. I'm here. It's us. An' it's gonna be okay—oh, gods. Listen, I—hmm—a'ight—lemme jus'—" This also meant he had to look, really look, and while he'd certainly seen and enjoyed all of the lovely witch's body before, he'd been told things would be remarkably different. He settled her on the stool and shrugged off his shirt instead of bothering to roll up his sleeves, settling on his knees in front of Sarinah and taking one selfish moment to himself to breathe in slowly, shove away all the darkness, exhale slowly, and carefully, cautiously glance downwards,
Slow breath. Slower blinks.
"Jus'. Benny. Everythin' 's benny, macha."
You can totally do this. Oes. Tristaan, you've got this. Sarinah needs you to do this. It's fine. Everything looks fine. As far as you can tell, anyway. Gods, what did it look like before? What would wrong look like?
"Ah, hama. Good news—you've been doin' all th' right things. Better news—I'd say we're jus' 'bout done." Voice wavered with only a hint of shock at what he would only later remember was called crowning, awareness hitting him hard in the chest that their babe was, quite honestly, just a few good, painful pushes away from being in someone's hands. That someone probably being his first.
Everything he'd ever been told he might possibly need was scattered around the bed and the floor and the stool but for the life of him he couldn't remember where any of it was at this moment. He was to offer a hand, a shoulder. He was to offer support down there to prevent tears. He was to pay attention to her vocalizations and encourage her. He was supposed to—
Gods, now was not a good time to be dizzy.
"I'm excited." He admitted, even if his tone of voice revealed all of his fear without his permission, "Hamaye. Yer amazin'. There's a boch ready t' meet us an' I'm jus' gonna catch so we can be properly introduced as daoa an' da—oes?" | English | NL | 59bc76070d65f8b46da032e676b601fae45547f6c7f05ab01606e2c5a526bda6 |
Davey was frightened. He had made all sorts of mistakes in life, and now it had come to this, he thought to himself as he gazed fixedly into the putrid black water.
Thinking all the usual thoughts that people think in Davey’s position – he was practiced at them by now – he contemplated the ordinary bleakness of the future and what he might do next. After all the comings and goings of the last few months, he was low. Very low.
One thing was for sure, he had no more ideas. His energies for life were all used up on the efforts he had made throughout his life’s journey and, here, in this decade of his life, he had finally come to a standstill. He had run out. In more ways than one.
The black water looked menacing and cold. It flowed slowly and silently round and round, yet if he stopped to listen he could hear it’s siren song calling him towards its clammy waters. It was all he could do to resist the water’s damning message.
Yet the stranger had definitely said that it was possible for good things to come out of bad, or even to actively turn bad things into good. “There is always a way” he had said, if you are patient and reach for it.
In despair and the deepest disappoint in himself he had ever known, Davey had finally given up the fight, declaring himself hopeless and the stranger’s words deceptive rubbish. The guy clearly had no idea of how bad bad can be. Bad things into good things? That could only be a platitude. There was no way forward from here. Yet the stranger had said that one day he would find out for himself.
Davey reviewed his life for a few moments. Had he not become a respected scientist? Was he not indeed a competent entrepreneur? So how had it come to this? He had the finest of university educations and been taught by world class professors. He had a caring family, who even now we’re grieving for him in his sadness.
He felt overwhelmed by self pity. As he stared into the black sludgy polluted water he felt hopeless seep through his clothes and into his heart. Good out of bad? This bad? It was all a meaningless cruel joke, and now he would indeed take the next step that would… that would … that … would…
He stopped. A flash of moonlight on something in the water caught his attention. Swirling innocently in the incessant gurgling flow was a little glass bottle complete with its stopper.
In some strange way, it floated clean and sparkling on the surface of the blackness. He felt it was waiting for him, a last chance perhaps, and he knew without doubt he must have it.
It was a long way down to the waters edge, but something in Davey’s heart came alive sufficiently to prompt him to action. Stepping back for a moment from his precarious position (and his self pity) he climbed down to the bank of the putrid pool and reached out. He would need to reach out much further than what was safe for him to rescue the bottle (and maybe himself) from the fate that called them both, but driven by his sudden inexplicable change of mood, he was determined. That little fragile bottle might change his life he thought irrationally. Perhaps it already had. He must have it at all costs.
He reached out, accepting the risks of his new passion, no longer afraid, no longer obsessing about his failings and fortunes, risking being carried away, or sucked into the sludge.
No, it was beyond him. It was out of reach, but for the first time in his life he threw aside his inhibitions and looked around for help.
That was when he saw the stranger just a few yards away who had been quietly watching his efforts all the while, and seemed to read his mind. Unselfconsciously he asked, “Can you help me please? I need that bottle.” The stranger stepped forward and anchoring himself into the bank, grasped Davey’s outstretched hand.
Trusting his weight to this Kind Stranger made the difference. Davey felt the bottle at his finger tips, and with one last stretch, grasped it firmly in his hand. It was his. Looking up he saw, in the moonlight, a glimpse of a smile on the stranger’s shadowed face.
Davey sat for several minutes, still and quiet at the water’s edge, reliving the last few minutes of what had seemed an impossibly challenging day (and the last few years of what felt like an impossibly challenging life.) He took a deep breath, and as he exhaled said to himself, “This moment is a turning point for me. I know it. Life will never be the same again.”
For the first time, in a single moment he had reached out for help, and it was as if all the struggles to achieve, all his efforts to be accepted and loved, all the disappointment and inadequacy no longer mattered.
The magic words had been “help me” and he knew it. He had never asked so blatantly for help before. He had always tried to make it on his own, brought up with the expectation that he should be independent, self sufficient, stand on his own two feet and manage his own affairs.
The very walls he had built to keep himself safe had imprisoned him. He felt a deep sense of love filtering its way into the rocky caverns of his heart; a strange lightness beaming it’s mellow rays into its grey shadows.
And the little glass bottle was here in his hand, rescued from the very waters that he, just a few minutes before … He preferred not to think about that.
It was many years later he told me this story. He was now a wealthy man, with a loving family around him. Things had turned out well. Reaching into his coat, he drew out the little glass bottle, complete with its stopper…
…and a crumpled, stained, scrap of paper.
“This is what was in the bottle” he said, passing it to me. “I just accepted what it says, and that has made all the difference”.
I smoothed out the paper and felt my own heart leap. There on the paper were the very words I had so longed to hear as a child – and actually through all these demanding and challenging years of life. As I read them over and over, I could feel them washing me too, cleansing and healing me to the very core.
And I accepted them.
And that has made all the difference. | English | NL | 484728f6450f8eade3d03193fa171f3617564a3871bef1796d683789b678231b |
|Ruins of Medieval Rosnai|
|Name as inscribed on the ARCHO Heritage List|
Aqueduct of Rosnai
|ARCHO subregion||Ahéri-Ethlorek states|
Rosnai (Urbont: Rosz Nakú) was a garrison town in the Vekra Retiqa, founded by Pelnan colonists in the early 8th century to secure their northern frontier. It was conquered by Trellinese armies under Kederm I in 843, and remained an important garrison town until it was slowly abandoned in the 13th century.
The site has been maintained as an officially-designated heritage landmark since 1954, with a visitors' centre established nearby in 1973. In 2014 it was designated as an ARCHO site under the name Ruins of Medieval Rosnai.
The name of Rosnai derives from the pass in which it is located, known in Urbont as Rosz Nakú (from High Velaric Roshi Naiukon, 'Pass of the Frozen Water'). When it was first visited by Velaran explorers c. 400 AD, the high peaks of the Vekra Retiqa, visible across the Serëtanz, were snow-capped. This sight was so unusual for the Velarans that the ridge on which they stood took its name from their view and was preserved as such on maps. As Trellinese-speaking Pelnans occupied the area, the name shifted to a transliteration, Ros Naika. This was interpreted to mean the 'Fortress of Nai' and gradually contracted further to Rosnai, its present name.
Rosnai was founded around 700 AD as the most northerly settlement of the County of Pelna. Its location gave it control over traffic along the upper Serëtanz, and it was consequentially heavily fortified early on. Due to internal crises and a manpower shortage in Pelna, however, Rosnai fell in 843 after a protracted siege conducted by the King of Trellin, Kederm I himself. The citadel was repaired and garrisoned fully by its new occupants.
Under Trellinese rule, Rosnai was a key fortress on the Retikan and Pelnan - later Velaran - borders. Much envied for its strategic location between the mountains and the Serëtanz, it was besieged unsuccessfully several times by Velaran armies after their conquest of Pelna. The town was the most common staging point for Trellin's campaigns against its eastern neighbours, and several generals made their names here either defending the citadel or laying waste to enemy territory. The most famous of these became King Pethmil IV during the Year of Five Kings; in his absence, while he was at Mar'theqa, the town was invested by a Retikan army. The siege was lifted three months later when word was received that Pethmil (who had since abdicated in favour of Ri'erha II and gone into exile on Tenedos) was returning to destroy the besieging, starving army.
The town was besieged only three more times in the next two centuries, diminishing in strategic value as the Trellinese frontier moved eastward. It was gradually abandoned through the thirteenth century and was little more than a ruin already by the time of Temuir II, who ordered its garrison dissolved. | English | NL | b848abb22641d516827c33669b2042e500f9d1d76c974c6f02c7cb87d204172c |
One of the issues that has bedeviled genealogists researching the Ferris family tree in the United States has been the existence of two lineages, that of Jeffrey Ferris and that of Samuel and Zachariah Ferris. The timing of the arrival of the Samuel / Zachariah lineage is a bit uncertain but it is believed that Zachariah was born in 1653, in Charleston, Mass. The records are a bit confused, as some suggest Zachariah was the emigrant while others point to his father, Samuel. What is clear is that Zachariah was living in Connecticut in the late 1690’s.
It is equally unclear if the two lineages were related. They lived in Connecticut at about the same time, quite near to each other. They also moved to Dutchess County in New York at about the same time and lived close to each other there. They may, on occasion, have intermarried.
The Samuel / Zachariah lineage has one outstanding characteristic that Jeffrey’s does not. The majority of the people in the Samuel / Zachariah lineage were Quakers. Many moved to Delaware, and they are known to have been extremely prominent in Quaker circles in the 1800s.
More on the Samuel / Zachariah lineage can be found at these sites:
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Quaker Hill, by Warren H. Wilson
The Ferris family was a prominent Quaker family of Wilmington, Delaware. The family of Zachariah and Sarah Ferris had its roots in Connecticut. Five of their eight children became members of the Society of Friends, and three of their sons, David Ferris (1707/08-1779), John Ferris (1710-1751), and Zachariah Ferris (1717-1803) removed to Wilmington before 1740. David Ferris became a Quaker minister, and his Memoirs were published in 1825. His son, Benjamin Ferris (1740-1771) also was a Quaker minister. David’s younger brother, John, moved to Delaware from Connecticut in 1748 and died of small pox three years later. | English | NL | f5ade59ffa52d4b164d3431927e74e9df9499308fe301e29f0096895d1de4051 |
Currently there is a lot of fuss about Wordfeud, a turn based Scrabble(tm) like game, on the tablets and smartphones. Turn based games are already as old as there is connection over the mail between people. There are played hundreds, thousands of chess games by people sending each other a postcard with the next move. This is called "correspondence chess". When internet became more and more popular, people started to play through email. I, for example, started to play with the IECG. Which is nowadays defunct, because server based playing took over the world. | English | NL | 651ec32e1c11895f2b7b99b512aed3ad02957e3f956aa41ab0d3034186294b97 |
Born around 1212 to a poor, but religiously observant, family, St. Zita is the patron of domestic help. Many times those who have lost keys appeal to Zita for aid. Known for positive deeds and visions of heaven, she often visited the sick and those in prison.
At age 12, Zita became a maid in a wealthy weaver’s family at Lucca, Italy, about 10 miles from Monte Sagrati where she lived. She remained in the family’s employ for nearly 50 years attending Mass daily while cleaning so well other servants were jealous. Her work was holy as she famously said because being busy was a sign of holiness while lazy people were fake.
Zita also was sought by the wealthy for guidance and hope. She had a flexible schedule allowing her to serve the poor and sick. She died of natural causes in 1272. Her feast day is April 27. | English | NL | 6b2d701c926101b4e524b14864c8ea2cc755d8a6ffb8a857741e6f35a56c4ad1 |
Greek history started in the prehistoric period. Since there was no written language back then little is known about the lives of these people. The names of the subdivisions of this period are derived from their technology. The Neolithic Age stone, Bronze Age, and the Iron Age. Two different cultures existed during these periods; the Minoans and the Mycenaeans. The Minoans, names after their mythical king Minos lived on the island of Crete from 3000 to 1400 BC. They were a wealthy empire who feared no one.
The palace of the king has wide-open spaces and is not very well guarded. They had a well-devised economic system and kept record on clay tablets. Minoans worshiped fertility statues robust female figures. Their written language has yet to be decoded, for this reason, not much more is known about Minoan culture. The Mycenaeans lived from 2000 to 1200 BC on mainland Greece. It seems that they were very warlike people and feared the threat of their neighbors. Their fortresses composed heavily fortified walls and were usually on hilltops.
Mycenaeans learned bronze work and other crafts from their contact with the Minoans. The 15th century BC brought about the destruction of the Minoan palaces. This is thought to be due to natural and human causes. With the Minoans out of the way, Mycenae gained a great deal. They expanded their sea trade and took over the Minoan palace at Knossos. Clay tablets have been found with Linear B script (which has been decoded). About 200 years after the destruction of the Minoan palaces, the Mycenaean palaces were also destroyed.
So people fled to the east, their language was forgotten and so no one knows what happened during the 300 years called the Dark Ages. As the Dark Ages ended a new Greek script was created Homer wrote the epic poems; the Iliad and the Odyssey the oldest and finest Greeks writings. Many times came and went. These were the Geometric period, the Archaic Age and the Classical Age. During the Archaic Age the gap between social classes grew wider and social unrest was on the rise.
During the Classical Age the economic and political power of Greece s mainland city-states was at their apex. Athens was the most powerful of these city-states with Sparta second. They went to war and after thirty years Athens was defeated. Alexander the Great was one of the most powerful kings of his time. After his death the empire split into three pieces. The final period in Greek history is the Hellenistic Age. These city-states had little political power, but Greek language and art influenced many regions. | English | NL | 49ddbec523d82b2b8b4134a65c47b068899daddb1a9e86b4f66d0e5572038e33 |
On Thursday morning I went for a 5k run bringing me to the edge of the town. Shortly after I started out I was joined by an unlikely companion. Stray dogs usually scarcely lift their heads that time of the morning, but this one followed me. I can usually read these dogs well enough now to know when they mean business. This one seemed calm enough if a bit ragged and scarred. So I let it be and it kept up with me while mostly ignoring me.
It was Diwali on Wednesday which is the biggest Indian festival and celebrated with fireworks and crackers (among other things). The evidence of the previous night’s revelry could be seen everywhere on the roads. Dogs everywhere are territorial and will defend their “own” area against outsiders. So it is possible that the “war” the previous night drove this dog to get away from it all, but he needed some company to take on the unknown. As we went, this dog did run into a few groups of dogs who growled and tried to chase the outsider, but he did not give them a single look and went straight ahead. I have seen some dog fights and the results on our own dog – not pretty. So I had to admire this brave fellow who avoided a fight and kept going.
And so he kept me company all around the sector until he came back to his own area. It is funny how much I enjoyed the run with my silent companion. Just to have another breath close by gave some comfort, some joy, a bit of peace. It is like the lion, Aslan, in The horse and his boy, who spent the night with the boy, Shasta, in the non-threatening form of a cat while he had to wait near the scary tombs. And it is not unlike the way God is present wherever we go. He is the Friend I am always running with.
Psalm 139 has this:
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast. | English | NL | 1262cf2d2fdf1381b65bc3b9588d95c35220c73f5cd2155030d65850aca74caa |
Logan Kincaid was trying to find the spy in his company when she walked in, – long blond hair, longer legs, and intelligent green eyes – damn, all his weaknesses rolled into one. He’d lived for 445 yrs. believing the Blood Witches and T’yhiéls of his vampiric childhood were nothing but myths until one walked into his life and all hell broke loose.
Allyson Weston needed a scholarship to continue her career, and she wanted her abusive ex out of her life. Allyson got both and more when she found out the benefactor of the scholarship’s bite was worse than his bark and her ex was found dead in her driveway.
FOUR SHORT STORIES WITH A BITE.
The Tarczal Connection: Logan is on the hunt, he has plans for Allyson, but another man is doing his best to occupy her time on this special day. Who will win her attention?
Millie and the Vampire: Millie is sleeping peacefully and awakes to find a vampire in her room. What’s a woman to do?
The Welcome Mat: Tall, Dark, and Handsome Vampires Welcome, is the mat Sarafina places at her front door, but what does she do when a real vampire shows up?
La Dernière Carte: Niclays of the house Châtillon must find the one gypsy who can lift the curse from him, but finding her is only half the battle. For her to save him she must first fall in love with him all on her own. Will she do so before time runs out for Niclays? | English | NL | dbc8d8f3903389ee114113ed7401bcc6bc1054bc631a58b1cb38d65f7c8b0e9f |
They had spent three days camping by a lazy section of the Rio Chamo in New Mexico below Taos. Leslie and Bill had brought their raft with them. After much reading, they decided that this section of river was suitable for novices. After getting the raft ready and in the river, along with their gear, they climbed aboard.
It was smooth going at first. They knew how to paddle. As the river took a turn, the water got rougher. Bill yelled his concern to Leslie but she wanted to keep going.
They saw the rocky dropoff ahead, but it was too late. The raft flew up in the air and so did Leslie and Bill. They both landed on the bank, unharmed. As they sat up, trembling with shock, Bill quietly told Leslie to turn around slowly.
There sat a large black bear staring at them. | English | NL | 60b7f3baa517c4a65e8a75d04b5820873e316490f1107c4e282195d85c4ecce6 |
|First appearance||September 13, 2005|
|Last appearance||March 28, 2017|
(12x12, "The End in the End")
|Created by||Hart Hanson|
|Portrayed by||David Boreanaz|
|Full name||Seeley Joseph Booth|
Shrimp (by Pops)
|Occupation||FBI Supervisory Special Agent - Homicide Division|
(FBI Liaison to the Jeffersonian Institute)
Sergeant Major, US Army
|Family||Brother: Jared Booth (deceased)|
Grandfather: Hank Booth
Mother: Marianne Booth
Father: Edwin Booth (deceased)
|Spouse||Temperance Brennan |
|Significant other||Rebecca Stinson|
|Children||Parker Booth |
(son, with Rebecca)
(daughter, with Temperance)
Hank Booth Jr.
(son, with Temperance)
|Relatives||Father-in-law: Max Keenan |
Mother-in-law: Christine Brennan (deceased)
Brother-in-law: Russ Brennan
Sister-in-law: Padme Dalaj Ancestor: John Wilkes Booth
Seeley Joseph Booth is a fictional character in the US television series Bones (2005–2017), portrayed by David Boreanaz. Agent Booth is a co-protagonist of the series with Dr. Temperance Brennan (Emily Deschanel), whom he affectionately refers to as "Bones".
- 1 Character background and history
- 2 Characterization
- 3 Work
- 4 Relationships
- 5 Reception
- 6 References
Character background and history
Booth is from Philadelphia but was raised in Pittsburgh. He is a fan of the Philadelphia Flyers hockey team; pictures of the team hang on the back wall of his office, as well as he has been seen wearing a Flyers T-shirt in several episodes he also proceeded to watch a Flyers game at a funeral. During many episodes he is seen drinking from a Pittsburgh Steelers coffee mug, suggesting he is also a fan of that football team. In his apartment Booth has a Pittsburgh Penguins hockey jersey of Mario Lemieux, which implies he is a fan of the Penguins. He is implied to be a Philadelphia Phillies supporter as well; in season 8, his mother brings his childhood toy – a miniature Phillie Phanatic stuffed toy – to give to Christine and in season 6, episode 16 "The Blackout in the Blizzard" he acquires a row of seats from the former Veterans Stadium and recounts for Dr. Brennan how he attended game 6 of the 1980 World Series with his father, describing it as the "best day of [his] life". A deeply religious man, he was raised and still is a practicing Catholic, having served as an altar boy during his youth; throughout the series he is often seen wearing a St. Christopher medal, which was given to him by his grandfather before being deployed to Somalia, around his neck. Little is known about his schooling years, though it has been implied that he went through the public school system and he once mentioned attending five different schools by the time he was nine. It is not mentioned where or when he attended college but he has stated that he attended on an athletic scholarship before a shoulder injury ended any dreams of going professional and taught dance to help pay for tuition. He has been an avid athlete and sports fan since his high school days. His home and office walls are adorned with various sports memorabilia including a signed picture of Bruins player Bobby Orr and the jerseys of NHL legends Mario Lemieux and Bobby Clarke.
Booth's age is never specified. However, in Season 3 it is stated that he is 35 years old and that Brennan is five years younger than him and in Season 4 episode The Con Man in the Meth Lab the "squints" celebrate his birthday, also in the episode Women in Limbo of season 1, it is stated that Brennan is born in 1976, which should put Booth's birthday in 1971. In season 11, Booth (and his brother, Jared) is mentioned as now being in his (early) 40s.
Booth is the older of two boys and has a younger brother Jared (Brendan Fehr). Their father "flew Thuds and Phantoms in Vietnam" and moved to Philadelphia where he worked as a barber and eventually started a family. After his death, Booth found a Purple Heart medal among his possessions, indicating he was likely shot down and injured at some point during the war. Their mother Marianne (Joanna Cassidy) was a dancer and composed jingles for television advertisements. Booth is a (fictional) member of the Anglo-American Booth family, best known for producing generations of actors, as well as John Wilkes Booth, the assassin of Abraham Lincoln; because of the latter, Booth does not like to talk about the fact.
For the first three seasons, details on Booth's family background were generally sketchy as he rarely mentioned his family members. He is still uncomfortable discussing his childhood and becomes especially defensive when asked about it. Prior to Jared's appearance in the episode "The Con Man in the Meth Lab", Booth's long-time friend Dr. Camille Saroyan was the only one who knew about his childhood; in the same episode, Sweets observed the brothers and independently came to the conclusion himself that they were products of a physically abusive household. However, it is not until Season 5 when Booth's grandfather Hank is introduced that his abusive background is fully revealed.
In Season 8 Booth bluntly tells Brennan that he "grew up in a household of violence and hatred", one of the few times the character has ever openly spoken of his past. When his younger brother Jared is first introduced, it becomes apparent that Booth was estranged from his family. Their father was an abusive alcoholic; this was reinforced by the fact that Booth is able to almost instantly recognize suspects with a drinking problem even when they are sober. Booth used to protect Jared from their father when he became violent, and was extremely protective of him. The extent of their father's abuse was never fully revealed but based on Booth's vague admissions throughout the show and Hank and Marianne's own statements, it was likely that he was also emotionally neglectful of his ex-wife and sons. One of Booth's deepest fears and insecurities is that he would become like his father, which continues to trouble him to this day. It is implied that their mother was also subjected to abuse by their father as she once mentioned to Brennan that she was thrown down a flight of stairs by her ex-husband. Eventually she left the family out of desperation. In the Season 8 episode "The Party in the Pants", she contacts Booth for the first time in over two decades to invite him to her wedding. The boys were essentially singlehandedly raised by their paternal grandfather Hank (Ralph Waite), whom Booth affectionately calls "Pops". Hank had stumbled upon his son abusing Seeley and drove him out of the house. He calls Booth "Shrimp" as Seeley was a young child then. From then on, he raised his two grandsons as his own. Booth has admitted that he might have killed himself as a kid had it not been for his grandfather.
Military and FBI
After losing his athletic scholarship Booth enlisted in the United States Army. He is at least a third-generation military servicemember—his grandfather, Hank, was an MP veteran of the Korean War and his father was a veteran of the Vietnam War. It is mentioned in season 4 that, prior to Jared's court-martial and dishonorable discharge for stealing evidence to save Booth, "no Booth has ever gotten a dishonorable discharge." Based on facts subsequently revealed throughout the show, he would have served during the 1990s, prior to joining the FBI. He was a sniper in the 101st Airborne Division, 75th Ranger Regiment, and Special Forces. He served in the Gulf War, Somalia, Guatemala, and Kosovo, along with other places. He also stated that he has trained with Delta Force operators and it has been indicated that he has experience in clandestine operations. For a time, he held the record for the longest shot made in combat ("over a kilometer"). In the Season 5 finale, he is shown wearing a 101st Airborne Division combat patch, Ranger and Special Forces qualification tabs, a Combat Infantryman Badge, and Parachutist, Military Free Fall Parachutist, and Air Assault badges. He also has a Pathfinder Badge in his shadow boxes in his office. His achievement and service medals can be seen in the shadow boxes mounted on the wall behind his desk in his office. While in the military, he was awarded a Bronze Star Medal, a Purple Heart, and an Army Good Conduct Medal. He separated from the Army at the rank of Master Sergeant.
In the episode "The Beginning in the End," Booth is approached by a Colonel Pelant and handed a letter from the Secretary of Defense requesting him to return to active duty to train Afghan soldiers at "tracking and apprehending insurgents". He is offered a promotion to Sergeant Major and a position as an advisor to the Afghan National Army. Although initially reluctant, Booth accepts and is deployed to Afghanistan during the time frame between Seasons 5 and 6 when he, Bones, Angela, and Hodgins leave Washington, D.C. for a year-long sabbatical.
Despite his distinguished service record, Booth is generally reticent about his military service and rarely speaks about it openly, even with Bones. Part of the reason is the classified nature of some his assignments. Bones subsequently discovers that he has been tortured while held as a POW in the Middle East, which Booth never elaborated on and has not been addressed since, after looking at his x-rays. In Season 2, he was kidnapped and tortured with a heated screwdriver by a mobster for refusing to give information and later told Bones that he has been "tortured worse". In Season 9, Bones mentions that he does not throw his socks into the hamper after coming home from work so that his feet stay warm, suggesting that he still suffers from the physical ramifications of the torture he endured. Bones has remarked that given the sheer amount of physical abuse that Booth's body has suffered, she is amazed that he is still physically active. Booth is still haunted by memories from his time in the Army, having lost friends in combat and watched his own buddy bleed to death in his arms. As such, he is noticeably affected when investigating cases involving veterans and was also implied to have stopped attending unit reunions and gatherings in an effort to distance himself from his painful past in the military. It is apparent that he suffers from survivor's guilt, although the term is never used in the show, and his "kill count" is a major sore point and an extremely sensitive issue for him. Former priest and Army chaplain, Aldo Clemens, whom Booth regularly confessed to while he was in the service, told Bones that Booth was the reason why he left the priesthood and decided that God was his "worst enemy" and a "bastard". In the episode "Hero in the Hold," it is revealed that he has blamed himself for the death of his spotter, Corporal Edward "Teddy" Parker (whom Booth named his son after), on a sniper mission, even though Teddy had unintentionally disobeyed orders to keep his head down and was fatally shot as a result. He sought out Sweets for counseling in Season 6 after he was confronted by his former mentor and ex-military sniper-turned-vigilante Jacob Broadsky. Towards the end of Season 1 he confessed to Bones for the first time about the buried guilt of assassinating a man in front of his son, after much persuasion from a fellow veteran, telling her, "It's never just the one person who dies, Bones. [...] With each shot we all die a little bit." In Season 9, when Bones receives a $75,000 advanced check from her book sales and asks Booth what he wants to do with it, he opts to donate it to the Wounded Warrior Project, a charity for injured veterans. In season 12 Booth admits to Bones that he had been lucky and was only able to move on with her support.
Booth had a gambling problem which developed as a coping mechanism after leaving the military. According to flashbacks in "The Parts in the Sum of the Whole," he only started to the kick the habit after meeting (and subsequently asking out) Bones for the first time while working a case together. As of the series pilot, he has been clean after attending GA meetings and has been able to resist the urge on several occasions when a case required him to be at a casino or a similar environment. In several episodes he can be seen twirling a poker chip (sometimes his GA sobriety chip) or playing with dice. He recently suffered a relapse when a case required him to infiltrate an underground gaming ring, but has begun to re-attend GA meetings after Brennan issued an ultimatum to him to move out until he got himself back together.
In Season 4, it is stated that Booth has been in the FBI for twelve years, which implies that he would have joined the Bureau around 1996. However, this contradicts his statements in Season 6 about going AWOL to be present at the birth of his son, Parker (Parker was four when the show premiered in 2005) and in season 10 when he recounts to Wendell Bray of watching his men getting shot and killed by the Taliban during a mission in Ghazni, Afghanistan (American troops did not enter Afghanistan until after the attacks on September 11, 2001). A possible realistic explanation would be that Booth remained in the Army as a reservist.
Awards and Decorations
The following are the awards (decorations, medals/ribbons, and badges) fictionally worn by Sergeant Major Booth.
John Kubicke of BuddyTV described Booth as "charming, funny, a tad brutish but ultimately warm and caring". He is worldly wise, socially at ease with people, very athletic, and apparently sexually confident with women. He often refers to himself as a jock, having played football and several other sports in high school and college. Other characters have described him as an "alpha male" and "a complex man".
Booth is portrayed as a patriot and has a strong sense of duty to his country and job. In "Soldier on the Grave", Angela described him as "someone who wants to keep honor and responsibility alive". For much of Season 1, this often led to friction between him and Jack Hodgins, who held anti-government views. According to Cam, Booth relies on his faith in the government to keep his sanity intact having killed nearly fifty people on government orders as an Army sniper. He takes his oath and position as a federal agent seriously and holds himself to an equally high standard; he is especially disgusted whenever a corrupt law enforcement officer is involved and refuses to participate in cover-ups. Booth is also fiercely loyal and protective towards his friends and family to the point where he will not hesitate to physically threaten and intimidate anyone who attempts to harm them.
Booth is occasionally over-protective, often to Bones' annoyance, of his family and people he cares about. Sweets theorized that his protective instincts – which he labeled "white knight syndrome" – stems from his abusive childhood and his having to frequently protect his younger brother Jared from their alcoholic father. His former boss Sam Cullen called him a "paladin" – "Defender of the faith, protector".
Due in part to his Catholic upbringing, Booth sees the world and morality in black and white, which contrasts Bones' objective view of such abstract concepts. This conflicting view is often a source of friction and, later, banter between them. Booth draws the line between the "good guys" and "bad guys" and stated that "life is about taking sides", when asked about how he is able to reconcile his past as a sniper while hunting down his former mentor-turned-vigilante Jacob Broadsky. Booth once told Sweets that while he has killed (because he was following orders), he has never murdered. It is stated that Booth will not pull the trigger unless he is absolutely certain of the identity and guilt of the "target" he is about to kill and that it is sanctioned by a higher authority and not on his own volition. Booth views the law in a similarly subjective way and believes that committing a crime is never justifiable regardless of the circumstances. This, coupled with his "by the book" approach, is apparent when he arrests Bones' father Max, for killing the Deputy Director of the FBI (who was revealed to be part of a cover-up), in her own office without hesitation in the Season 2 finale "Stargazer in a Puddle", although he does apologize to Bones before leading Max out in handcuffs.
One of Booth's noted characteristics is his respect for life. Despite spending most of his working life around firearms, it is a known fact that he dislikes having to kill another human being and it remains a sensitive topic for him. His past as a sniper still haunts him emotionally and Bones surmised that his choice to become an FBI agent and his dedication for seeking justice for victims was his way of paying penance. In the pilot, he tells Bones that he hopes to catch as many criminals as people he has killed. In the episode "The Man in the S.U.V.", after shooting and killing a terrorist about to detonate a bomb at a crowded convention center, he refused to accept credit and explains to Bones that he finds "no pleasure in taking someone's life". When he shot a mechanical clown on an ice cream truck for seemingly no reason, he was ordered to see Dr. Gordon Wyatt for counseling in order to get his badge and gun back. In subsequent episodes Dr. Wyatt uncovers the guilt and anger Booth has been harboring for so long. In Season 6 Booth's FBI colleague Dr. Lance Sweets noted that the reason why Booth was able to live through the guilt was his ability to channel it into his career in the FBI and responsibility to his son and those he cared about.
Generally, Booth has a cheerful, happy-go-lucky personality. He frequently smiles, makes jokes, and occasionally acts in a silly, almost childish manner. On the job, he tends to adopt a more serious, professional attitude, although his cheerful side occasionally slips through. However, he also has issues with his temperament and, as shown in several episodes, it has gotten him in trouble on occasion. He shoots the clown head on an ice cream truck in season 2 episode "The Girl in the Gator" due to coulrophobia. As a result, his service pistol is confiscated and he is ordered to see Dr Gordon Wyatt (Stephen Fry) for counseling sessions to be cleared for duty. In Season 4 he shoots a black metal band's guitar amplifier after the guitarist spits on his badge and was promptly reprimanded by Dr Wyatt. There is a running gag in the show where Booth often sarcastically threatens to shoot a squint (especially Hodgins or a "squintern") in exasperation when they start "rambling" or occasionally an uncooperative suspect in the interrogation room. Despite his ability to emotionally detach himself from a case and compartmentalize, there were instances where he has "snapped", especially when a case touches a sensitive subject, such as when he physically hit a suspect who had a history of abusing his wife. Having grown up in an abusive home, he has admitted to Sweets and Bones of his fears that he would become like his father.
When investigating a crime, Booth relies on intuition and instinct rather than pure logic, something which the rational empiricist Bones is unable to understand. His interpersonal approach is especially effective in the interrogation room – "[his] domain". Despite lacking the professional training of Bones and Sweets, he has been shown repeatedly to possess a natural ability to read people and detect subtle behavioral cues and accurately establish motive. Initially Bones rebuffs Booth's intuition as she (at first) rejects anything that cannot be measured with numbers, research and scientific evidence, but he soon earns her and the team's respect for his ability to correctly interpret evidence. In Season 4, Bones tries to interrogate a suspect for the first time but fails, making a fool of herself in the process. She eventually concedes that the interpersonal aspects of the job and interrogations are still exclusively Booth's area of expertise. In Season 9, while Booth and Bones were observing Sweets interrogating a highly intelligent suspect, he explains to her Sweets' techniques and the suspect's behavioral responses. Despite his general demeanor and occasional silliness, Booth is actually very intelligent, but frequently downplays his intelligence, deliberately making himself look stupid and ignorant (something made easier by keeping Bones around as an intellectual contrast). This leads people to dismiss him as a simple fool, lulling them into a false sense of security which Booth uses to his advantage. Angela has observed that his ability to "pretend to be stupider than he actually is most of the time" was what made him such a skilled interrogator, as opposed to Bones, whose bluntness often gives a poor first impression and puts people off. Gordon Wyatt has also noticed this: on one occasion when Booth made a stupid comment, Wyatt immediately called him out on it, saying "He does that, doesn't he? He wants to be underestimated." Angela also believes that Booth pretends to be stupid in order to make Bones feel smarter, since he knows that she likes to be the smart one. Booth is often frustrated by the scientific jargon Bones and the other scientists, and sometimes Sweets, tend to use, as shown when he abruptly cuts them off in the middle of a sentence and tells them to "translate" into layman's terms. Although lacking the squints' "book smarts", he compensates with his instincts honed from his experience in the FBI, as shown by the fact that he is able to accurately guess Bones' top three password choices.
Booth tends to keep his personal and professional life as separate as possible and is quite territorial, especially in regards to his personal life and what he considers his personal space. This is exhibited by the fact that he displays his military medals and memorabilia in his office rather than in his home. He is also extremely guarded and taciturn about most aspects of his personal life, namely his abusive father, troubled childhood, "love life" and traumatic experiences in the military. For example, in the episode "A Night at the Bones Museum", he becomes offended when Bones talks about him while on a date with his "boss's boss" Andrew Hacker and curtly tells her that "what goes on between us is ours". When asked more personal questions, such as about his emotional problems, especially by Sweets or Bones, his first reaction is to change the subject, deflect them with jokes or become defensive. Even when confronted privately "out of office", he usually refuses to talk outright, choosing instead to downplay his emotions and brood over a drink at the bar. In later seasons, he has begun to open up to and confide in Bones.
On the job, Booth is characterized as a "man of action" and once claimed that he would "rot behind a desk". Early in season 8, he was given an opportunity to earn a promotion to an administrative position but passed up the chance in order to help Sweets and rookie agent Olivia Sparling with an emergency situation involving an assassin armed with an explosive. Bones herself commented that Booth being assigned to a desk job was akin to "caging an animal" and that he was "meant to run free". Booth tends to shy away from the limelight when it comes to taking credit for solving a case. He tends to be a kinesthetic person who favors the physical aspects of his job, such as chasing down suspects or leading a SWAT team, and would throw around a ball or putt a golf ball into a cup in his office while thinking through his cases.
Booth is a fan of classic rock and arena rock music. He has expressed great affection for the group Foreigner (in fact, Foreigner's Hot Blooded is Booth's & Bones' song), and poked fun at Bones for her interest in world, rap, and hip hop music. He also likes the band Poco. In the season three finale, he listens to the hardcore punk/punkabilly band Social Distortion. In the Season 4 episode "Mayhem on the Cross" he mentions that his father thought that Black Flag and the Dead Kennedys sounded the same. Given the relatively underground nature of the California hardcore punk scene, of which Social Distortion, Black Flag and the Dead Kennedys were all seminal members, it is most likely that Booth's father would have heard these bands only if Booth himself had played their records. He is also familiar with country music as his grandfather "raised [him] on Grand Ole Opry".
Booth shows a preference for the old school. He despises new age innovations, feeling that technology dehumanizes everything. He hates cappuccinos, referring to it as "foamy crap" and not actual coffee, only drinking his coffee black. He hates tea as well: when working on a case in England, he remarks that his drink is "the weakest coffee I've ever had". When Brennan informs him that it isn't coffee, but actually tea, Booth immediately discards it by throwing it in the river. He also dislikes reading news on a tablet, preferring to hold the newspaper in his hands, and had a vintage fridge in his kitchen at his old apartment. Bones told Hannah that Booth has always wanted an old-fashioned rotary telephone, as he believes that it is what a phone should be: sturdy and heavy enough to knock someone out. He also believes that the mechanics of it make it human.
It is revealed in the season three episode "The Mummy in The Maze" that Booth suffers from coulrophobia. When traveling through a haunted house, Booth is frightened of an evil clown mannequin; Brennan is bewildered by his behavior and Booth feels ashamed when he purposely avoids walking by the mannequin. In season two he shoots a large plastic clown head on an ice cream truck, annoyed with the music. Booth wears a "Cocky" belt buckle in episodes following "The Boneless Bride in the River", which is absent in the first episode of season five after recovery from surgery. However, in the first two seasons he wears a stylized eagle buckle and for most of Season 9 he is seen wearing a heavy buckle with crossed muskets, the insignia of the US Army Infantry Branch. He also likes to wear colorful socks. In the episode "The Wannabe in the Weeds", it is revealed that he is allergic to grass.
Toward the end of season 4, Booth suffers from a brain tumor that leads him to hallucinate conversations with Stewie Griffin. The tumor is successfully removed, but it leaves him with residual memory loss and a lack of confidence in the field.
In the series pilot, Booth was introduced as an FBI special agent in the homicide department who seeks the professional opinion of Dr. Temperance Brennan at the (fictional) renowned Jeffersonian Institute. He was eventually made the liaison between the Jeffersonian and the FBI, much to his chagrin, but he soon develops a close working relationship with the Jeffersonian team of scientists, whom Booth and his fellow FBI agents call "squints", a nickname which has since become a term of endearment Bones and her team associate him with. Booth once referred to the Jeffersonian team of scientists, whom he affectionately calls the "squint squad", as "my people". Caroline Julian, a federal prosecutor who frequently works with them, has commented that aside from him "there isn't a single normal law enforcement officer who could work with these people." Bones herself often immediately objects when another agent (other than Booth) is assigned to work with her. Although not as "book smart" as the other "squints", he is quick to link evidence with and often uses his "street smarts" and intuition to assist the case. He is characterized as a "hands on" agent and makes no secret of his distaste for paperwork and formal documentation.
Booth is based at the J. Edgar Hoover Building along with his late colleague Dr. Lance Sweets and current partner Special Agent James Aubrey but frequents the Jeffersonian, which he jokingly dubbed "Squint Central", for updates on the evidence and has his own access card. The fact that he has his own office and is called "sir" by younger agents denotes some seniority or supervisory status. In addition, when his credentials are seen close up, the acronym "SSA" can be seen, strongly implying that Booth holds the rank of Supervisory Special Agent. It has been implied through interactions with other characters that Booth is generally well regarded and respected within the Bureau for his skill, even if his distaste for the politics that entails his job has put him at odds with his boss and other federal law enforcement agencies. Little is known about his work history in the FBI except for the fact that he spent a period of time in Japan as part of an exchange program with the Tokyo Police. His call sign is 22705.
Because of his training as a FBI agent and military background, he adheres to protocol and the chain of command. As such, he often has to keep the "squints" in line when a case emotionally affects them in order to ensure that they abide by the rules and not jeopardize the case. When necessary, Booth will not hesitate to bend the rules or use underhanded tactics to get what he needs, and will go through great lengths to obtain a confession, especially when the situation is urgent or desperate (e.g. a hostage situation), but he will not stoop to actually breaking the law or disobeying protocol. His former military training and experience has proven useful at times, especially in cases involving firearms or terrorists. Other notable incidents include in Season 4 when he was kidnapped by "The Grave Digger" and had to find his way out of a decommissioned Navy ship rigged with explosives.; in Season 6 when he was forced to pursue rogue vigilante sniper Jacob Broadsky through a container terminal without back-up; and in Season 9 when he tracks down tech-savvy serial killer Christopher Pelant undetected through an abandoned power plant alone and armed with only a knife, rifle and pistol.
A skilled marksman, Booth is well-known within the Bureau as a "legendary shot". While in the Army he achieved the "Expert" Marksmanship Badge and is still proficient with a sniper rifle. It is indirectly stated in "Fire in the Ice" that he is equally capable of using his weapon with his "wrong hand" (his left hand). In the episode "Proof in the Pudding", he demonstrates the double tap technique with a replica World War II-era Carcano for one of Hodgins' experiments. He is also a skilled knife thrower and is familiar with various types of explosives and weapons.
Booth states in "The Girl in the Gator" that Howard Epps was his fiftieth kill. However, Booth is not technically responsible for Epps' death, so as of "The Man in the Cell" his official kill count is at 49. However, as of "The Mastodon in the Room", Booth's official kill count is at least 54, as he killed the serial killer dressed as a clown (50), Gormogon (51), a corrupt sheriff(52), a doctor (53) and a terrorist (54). He has also killed serial killer Christopher Pelant and two of the three Delta Force assassins sent to kill him in "The Recluse in the Recliner".
Booth generally tries to keep his personal and professional life separate. He dislikes bringing his work back home and tries to avoid discussing a case after hours. Despite this, there were several occasions where his past has caught up with him. During the sixth season, while dealing with his complicated relationship with Brennan and his new girlfriend Hannah Burley (Katheryn Winnick), Booth faces his former mentor Jacob Broadsky, a former Army sniper who has apparently gone rogue. Broadsky kills the Gravedigger, a serial kidnapper and killer who threatened both Booth and Brennan, destroys identifying evidence, and escapes. Broadsky points out that Booth has no definite proof that would allow him to feel comfortable shooting his old teacher. Booth is comforted by the news that Brennan does not see him and Broadsky as identical and later successfully arrests him without having to kill him. At the end of Season 8 and the beginning of Season 9, serial killer and hacker Christopher Pelant murders several of Booth's fellow FBI agents and blackmails Booth into calling off his wedding to Bones. Booth later tracks down and kills Pelant with a single bullet to the center of his chest. In season 12 the son of the Serbian general he had been assigned to kill nearly twenty years ago during the Bosnian War comes to Washington D.C. seeking revenge.
In the Season 9 episode "The Cold in the Case", the Deputy Director personally requests Booth to review other agents' case files and has Sweets analyze Booth's performance and military record. The FBI intends to open a field office in Germany, where the US has a major military command and, according to Booth, would be a prime location for counter-terrorism activities. Booth was being considered for a promotion to head the new field office on a 2-year assignment. After finding out that Sweets had been ordered to review his military record, Booth worried that the promotion was based on his military training as a sniper rather than his service record at the Bureau. Bones expressed her support even if meant having to uproot the family to a foreign country. In the next episode, Booth reveals that the Deputy Director Victor Stark put in his recommendation and that he is to be confirmed by the congressional subcommittee before it is finalized. In the Season 9 finale, he was due to be confirmed by Congress as the new head of the Berlin office but his investigation into the Ghost Killer case and the murder of a conspiracy blogger harboring information of a mass blackmail involving cover-ups and corrupt government officials and businessmen led to him being targeted. Booth presents a proposal entitled Hiding in sight: A blueprint for addressing potential terrorist activity at the hearing. However, he was placed on administrative leave when classified information from his service record is exposed by a congressman questioning him, sparking a media frenzy and leading Booth to speculate if he was intentionally nominated for the promotion to be made an example of. At the end of the episode, Booth was attacked by three Delta Force operatives sent to silence him in his and Bones' house and was seriously injured in the subsequent gunfight. Bones calls an ambulance in time but Booth is charged with killing three FBI agents supposedly sent to serve an arrest warrant and is handcuffed to his hospital bed. She is taken into custody for questioning on the orders of Deputy Director Stark after vehemently protesting that the "FBI agents" were in fact Delta Force assassins and that Booth was "defending himself". He was released from prison in the Season 10 premiere and reinstated despite concerns from Brennan and Sweets that he was coming back to work too soon. In the season 10 finale, Booth announced that the case presented in that episode would be his last case with the FBI. His wife also decided the case would be her last with the Jeffersonian. The couple pack their belongings and leave their respective offices. Season 11 begins with Booth having taken up a position as a freelance instructor at the FBI Academy. However, he returns to the FBI full-time after his brother's death.
Abused by his father and abandoned by his mother, Booth has a difficult and troubled relationship with most of his immediate family members. He and his brother Jared had a strained relationship, especially after Jared, a Navy lieutenant commander and intelligence officer based at the Pentagon, asked Bones out on a date while visiting the Jeffersonian with Seeley. Jared Booth was a recurring character in the series, and his arrivals are often met with tension by Booth. Bones has commented that the two brothers "can barely be in a room together". Booth tended to be "over-protective" of Jared, which the latter resented, when they were growing up and it added to the animosity. Jared once told Sweets that "having a big brother is like having an extra dad, only a dad who protects you from your real dad." When they were young, Booth would protect Jared from their father by shielding him during a beating. In Season 4, Booth sacrificed credit for a major crime bust and potential promotion to keep Jared from getting arrested after he was caught drunk-driving as another DUI would cost him his Navy career. Cam has said that Jared had a history of getting into trouble and Booth having to constantly bail him out. Their relationship improved dramatically after Jared steals critical evidence under the pretext of a classified military intelligence operation to assist the Jeffersonian team to rescue Booth from "The Grave Digger", sacrificing his Navy career as a result. In "The Dentist in the Ditch", he introduces his fiancée Padme to Seeley and asks him to be his best man at their wedding. Jared is killed in the Season 11 premiere. Bones performed the autopsy and her results confirmed that Jared had been physically abused as a child, like his older brother. Despite the fact that they had drifted apart, Booth still put his career and his own life on the line to save Jared, even though it eventually proved futile.
Booth is close to his grandfather Hank, whom he affectionately calls "Pops". Prior to the character's introduction, Hank was rarely mentioned, at least by name, but it is apparent that he is fond of Booth and Booth cares deeply for him. Hank once told Bones during a visit that he was "more proud of [Booth] than anybody in the world".
For many years, Booth resented his parents and the mere mention of them, particularly his father, would elicit a hostile response from him. He detested his father for physically abusing him and Jared when they were young and, by his own statements, had not seen him for twenty years. In Season 7, when Booth learns of his father's death from Hank, he showed little emotion and repeatedly dismissed his colleagues' and the Jeffersonian team's concern throughout the day. After much persuasion from Bones, Booth reluctantly opens the box his father had left to him and sifts through the contents, which included a Purple Heart medal, the 1980 World Series tickets and old photos of father and son. It was one of the rare moments when Booth shed tears.
In Season 8, when his mother Marianne reappears after 24 years to ask Booth to give her away at her wedding to her fiancee, he was reluctant to do so as he was still angry with her for abandoning the family. After realizing that Marianne was genuinely trying to repair their relationship and seeing how well she got along with Bones and their daughter Christine, Booth decides to go to his mother's wedding. She, along with Hank and Parker, were present at Booth and Bones' wedding in Season 9.
Booth is characterized as a doting father to his three children, Parker, Christine and "Little Hank". He has a son named Parker (Ty Panitz) with his ex-girlfriend, Rebecca, who refused to marry him. Rebecca is at first hostile, and denied him visitation out of spite, but relations between them later dramatically improve. Initially Booth had mistakenly thought that she turned him down because the precarious nature of his job and irregular work hours would prevent him from being a good father but she later confronts him and assures him that he was a "wonderful father" and that Parker was a "lucky kid". Parker is named after a friend of Booth's from the Army Rangers, Corporal Edward "Teddy" Parker, who was fatally shot while spotting for Booth on a sniper mission. In the Season 1 episode "The Man in the Fallout Shelter", Parker is first introduced to the show and it is revealed that prior to this, none of the "squints", including Bones, knew that Booth had a son. Booth is characterized as a doting and occasionally over-protective father. He coached Parker's tee ball team. When he and Bones move into their new house, Parker is given his own room. In Season 7 it is revealed that Parker is living in England with his mother but visits Booth during the holidays.
He and Brennan have their daughter Christine Angela in Season 7. She was named after Brennan's mother Christine Brennan and their co-worker and friend Angela Montenegro. When Parker returns for vacation and sees her for the first time, Booth worries about sibling jealousy but is relieved when Parker hand-makes a mobile for Christine and accepts her into the family. In many episodes, Booth is seen playing with Christine. Of the other characters, Christine is particularly close to Sweets, whom she calls "Uncle Sweets", as he had babysat her since she was an infant.
In "The Twisted Bones in the Melted Truck", Booth mentions an eccentric aunt of his, who "spent every last dime on old-fashioned cookie jars".
On multiple occasions in the series, characters have stated that Booth is a direct descendant of infamous assassin John Wilkes Booth. However, this is historically inaccurate, as the assassin died childless at the age of 26 just days after killing Abraham Lincoln. More feasible is that he is in fact a descendant of the same family but not John Wilkes himself. In either case, this relation is a particular sore-spot for Booth who does not like having it brought up.
Temperance is Booth's professional partner throughout the series, and later, his wife. While Booth and Brennan maintain a professional relationship and friendship for six years, there is a deep emotional attachment and hints of romantic and sexual tension. Minor characters constantly mistake Booth and Brennan for an already romantic couple, an accusation which they consistently and vehemently deny, although they spend more and more time together outside of work and a sexual attraction between them develops. Although she refused to admit it at first, Brennan enjoyed working with him from the beginning, even after their falling out when Booth got her drunk and "fired" her, and, in Season 1, she cajoled him into launching an investigation after finding three bone fragments on a golf course so he could work with the Jeffersonian team on the case despite the fact that the FBI had no jurisdiction. Initially, Brennan detested Booth's use of the nickname "Bones", frequently snapping "Don't call me Bones!", although over time she accepted it and even began to like it, occasionally referring to herself using the nickname. Booth has admitted to Brennan and her father that he finds her "well-structured" and "beautiful," and has once reassured her that she has "her looks and a whole lot more". In "Two Bodies in the Lab", in season 1, and in "The Rocker in the Rinse Cycle", in season 5, Brennan and Booth's mutual love for Foreigner's "Hot Blooded" is mentioned; Booth even refers to it as "their song" in "The Rocker in the Rinse Cycle", and it is the first song on the mix tape he makes for her in "The Ghost in the Machine".
Booth's grandfather Hank and Bones' father Max expressed approval of their relationship early on, even before Booth and Bones openly admitted that they were more than just professional partners, and Hank and Max incredulously asked Booth if he was gay when he denied that he was romantically involved with Bones. Max, in particular, strongly believed that Booth was the right man for his daughter despite the fact that Booth has had to arrest him a number of times for trying to take the law into his hands to protect Bones.
Throughout the show, Booth and Brennan's differences in worldviews are regularly addressed by various characters and was the source of friction early on in their partnership. She was dismissive of his religious beliefs (and organized religion in general) and would take the opportunity to downplay it. In Season 2 Booth expelled her from the interrogation room after she repeatedly made insensitive remarks, despite her good intentions, during an interview with a parish priest. Booth also has several heated arguments over various issues, especially religion. She gradually comes to respect and admire his faith when she realizes that it was his way of coping with the trauma and violence he witnesses on a regular basis at work. In numerous episodes she is shown trying to be supportive of Booth in spite of her social awkwardness, which Booth admits he finds endearing. When Sweets was observing them and writing a book on their relationship, Dr. Gordon Wyatt noted that Booth and Brennan are actually more similar despite appearing to be polar opposites – both experienced traumatic childhoods, are highly competent in their respective fields and extremely guarded about their personal lives.
Booth often takes Bones along to his investigations and interrogations, despite his superiors' and Caroline's initial reservations about a "squint" being in the field. Initially he was irritated by the scientific jargon she frequently used but over time comes to enjoy her company. He also taught her some investigative techniques and "black ops stuff", such as using a credit card to break open a locked door. In Season 4, at Sweets' persuasion, he allows her to interrogate suspects and since then, she has co-interrogated suspects with Booth in Sweets' absence. In the field, he sometimes takes advantage of her status as a civilian to obtain information which he, as a federal agent, would otherwise be unable to obtain without going through the time-consuming bureaucratic process. They often go undercover together as a couple whenever a case requires.
Booth shows an apparent jealousy of Brennan's romantic relationships, particularly in the episodes "Two Bodies in the Lab", "The Woman in Limbo", "The Headless Witch in the Woods", "The Man in the Mansion", "The Boneless Bride in the River", "The Con Man in the Meth Lab", and "A Night at the Bones Museum". In Season 2 his FBI colleague Special Agent Tim "Sully" Sullivan asks him for "advice" on how to woo Bones, Booth tells him simply that he will not "help [him] get my partner into bed". Booth has a habit of intimidating, confronting or competing with anyone he believes to have a sexual interest in Brennan. He is extremely protective of her, and is often defensive of her to the point of physically assaulting those who pose a threat to her safety. Likewise, Bones has defended him whenever his ability is called into question and repeatedly made known that Booth is the only FBI agent she (and the other "squints") tolerate working with. Booth has saved Brennan's life in several episodes, such as "Aliens in a Spaceship", "The Wannabe in the Weeds" and "The Woman in the Garden". In the third season, their relationship takes on a new component when they are forced to undergo partners therapy with Sweets, who observes that they are very close and there is emotional and sexual tension between them. Partners therapy is extended indefinitely. The partners share their first (in a flashback) and third kisses in "The Parts in the Sum of the Whole"; the second occurs in "The Santa in the Slush" when Booth and Brennan agree to kiss under mistletoe in front of Caroline Julian, an attorney Booth frequently works with. Nearly every episode after season three ends with a scene of Booth and Brennan bonding, which become increasingly romantic over time, reflecting the ever-growing affection Booth and Brennan have for each other. This comes to a head in "The Critic in the Cabernet," in which Brennan asks Booth to donate sperm to father her child. He is startled but eventually agrees. The two begin making plans for her insemination, but before she can go through with it, Booth is diagnosed with a brain tumor.
In Season five, Booth realizes his love for Brennan as he recovers from his tumor. However, he is cautioned by both Dr. Saroyan and Dr. Sweets to be sure of his feelings before confessing his love to Brennan. Afraid that his feelings for her are related solely to his tumor and coma, Booth is conflicted about whether or not to tell Brennan. Afterwards, their relationship remains fraught with sexual tension. Although she shares his feelings, Brennan rejects his advance and states her uncertainty about the possible outcomes of such a relationship given their seemingly conflicting personalities. Booth agrees to respect her wishes and attempts to move on as they continue to work together. In the episode "The Boy with the Answer", Booth is confronted with the possibility that Brennan, claiming she is "tired of dealing with murders and victims and sadness and pain", might leave the Jeffersonian permanently. In the final scene of this episode, Booth watches as Brennan turns to face him while riding away in a taxi. Brennan departs for a year-long anthropological expedition to the Maluku Islands, while Booth agrees to spend a year in Afghanistan, training soldiers to apprehend terrorists. They say goodbye at the airport, agreeing to meet one year later. Their relationship takes a downturn after their return to DC due to Booth's relationship with journalist Hannah Burley; Brennan is apparently disappointed after learning that Hannah gets along with Parker. When Brennan admits that she still has feelings for Booth, he turns her down and says that he loves Hannah. Hannah departs after she turns down Booth's rather half-hearted proposal. Brennan and Booth begin to rekindle their relationship.
In the episode "The Hole in the Heart", in which Vincent Nigel-Murray dies, Booth has Brennan stay at his apartment for her safety. Later that night, Brennan is still overcome with grief over Vincent's death and she turns to Booth for comfort. The two fall into his bed together in a seemingly intimate but non-sexual embrace. The next day, she tells Angela Montenegro that she "got into bed with Booth". In the following episode, she tells Booth that she is pregnant with his child. At the start of season seven, a very pregnant Brennan and Booth are in a relationship and going back and forth between apartments. Booth suggests that they should have their own place; Brennan wants Booth to move into her apartment. It causes a minor rift between them. At the end of the episode they are in bed looking at houses on the internet. Booth also tells Brennan he loves her and left it to her to decide when she wants to get married. After much discussion, Booth and Brennan agree to give up their apartments and move in together. In the episode "The Crack in the Code", they decide to buy a two-story house in the suburbs—which they jokingly called "The Mighty Hut"—that Booth found at a police auction and renovate it, (according to a mailed check sent to Brennan in "The Heiress in the Hill", in season 9, the "Mighty Hut"'s address is "1297 Janus Street, Washington DC, 20002"). In the following episode, Booth delivers their daughter in a small stable off the road when Brennan cannot make it to the hospital to give birth. They name their baby Christine Angela, after Bones' mother and Angela Montenegro. Booth also tells Bones that she would be the one to ask him to marry her since he believed in marriage and she was the one who needed the make the decision. In the season finale Bones is framed by tech-savvy serial killer Christopher Pelant, who is released when the jury finds him "not guilty". Bones, with help from Max, is forced to go on the run with Christine in order to avoid being arrested and buy Booth and the team enough time to clear her. Prior to her departure, she and Booth had Christine christened into the Catholic church out of respect for his religious beliefs.
The family reunite in the Season 8 premiere and, by the second episode, Bones and Christine have returned home. However the couple have some difficulty readjusting after nearly three months apart with almost no contact with one another. Booth puts up a facade but was still resentful and bitter over the separation. They resolve their differences by the end of the episode.
At the end of Season 8, Brennan finally decides to marry Booth, who is overjoyed. However, their plans are ruined when a vengeful Christopher Pelant blackmails Booth, threatening to kill five random people if Booth marries Brennan. Booth calls off the wedding, but does not explain the real reason to Brennan. For the first several episodes of the season, despite their efforts to mask the frustration and resentment, there was much tension between the two of them and between Booth and the other squints, who accused Booth of being unfaithful and getting "cold feet" at the last minute. In the Season 9 premiere, Booth confided in his friend Aldo Clemens, a former Army chaplain turned bartender, about Pelant's threat against him and he was having trouble mending his relationship with Brennan. At the end of the episode, Brennan decides to stay with Booth, much to his relief, and tell him that she is willing to trust him. In episode 4, "The Sense in the Sacrifice", Booth vows to take Pelant out once and for all, especially after Pelant murdered his colleague FBI Special Agent Flynn and manipulated evidence to frame Flynn. After killing Pelant, Booth reveals to Bones Pelant's threats and why he called the wedding off. He then reiterates his marriage proposal, which she happily accepts.
In the Season 9 episode "The Woman in White", Booth and Bones prepare for their wedding. Bones agreed to a church wedding after realizing the sacrifice Booth had made as the Catholic church does not condone co-habitation; Aldo had told her that Booth was willing to sacrifice his soul and "live in sin" if it meant being with her. She rationalized the decision, saying that she could see the "beauty" behind the ceremony and tradition associated with a Catholic wedding and added that she also knew Latin. However, their plans are ruined by a cold case and a fire in the church in which they were to be married. With Angela's help, they hold a last-minute simple garden ceremony outside the Jeffersonian. Aldo presided over the ceremony in the presence of Booth's mother Marianne, grandfather Hank and son Parker, Bones' father Max and their close friends from the Jeffersonian. They spent their honeymoon in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Their infant son Hank Jr. (named after Booth's grandfather) was born off-screen sometime after season 10 and before the beginning of season 11.
Rebecca Stinson, portrayed by Jessica Capshaw, is Booth's ex-girlfriend. When she became pregnant, Booth proposed but Stinson did not accept. They named their son Parker Matthew Booth, the first name "Parker" after Booth's friend who died in the army. They occasionally engage in a liaison, but are mostly just friends. Booth resolves to end their liaisons after Rebecca assuages his doubts that he was a good father to Parker.
Booth rekindles an old relationship with Dr. Camille Saroyan when she joins the Jeffersonian team. However, Booth ends the relationship for the second time after an intense case nearly costs Saroyan her life. Booth asserts that on-the-job romantic relationships endanger the team in high-pressure situations. Booth has known Saroyan for some length of time; in Season 4, it is stated that she has known Booth and his brother Jared for some 15 years. She was one of the few characters who already knew about the brothers' abusive childhood and they call each other by their first names, at least in private; there is a running joke where Booth counters with, "Don't call me Seeley," to which Cam replies, "Don't call me Camille." Despite the breakup, Saroyan and Booth remain close friends, working together on cases and giving each other advice on numerous occasions.
Hannah Burley, portrayed by Katheryn Winnick, is Booth's ex-girlfriend whom he met while training soldiers in Afghanistan. She was originally in Afghanistan as a journalist. She moved to Washington D.C. to be with Booth and they eventually moved in together in Booth's apartment. However, they soon break up when Hannah rejects Booth's half-hearted proposal and she moves out of his apartment.
With colleagues and the Jeffersonian team
Booth's appointment to the Jeffersonian was met with mixed reaction from Bones' team members. In the first few episodes, it was apparent that Booth did not fit in with the "squints" and was immediately put-off by the scientific jargon they use when discussing a case. He gradually develops a close working relationship and becomes friends with them outside of work. This was evidenced in the Season 2 episode "Judas on a Pole", when Booth was "suspended without pay" by the Deputy Director for pursuing a thirty-year-old cover-up in order to solve the more recent murder of a fellow FBI agent, Bones and the rest of the team, realizing that it meant that Booth can no longer work with them, all volunteer to continue the investigation so that Booth will be reinstated. At the end of the episode Booth was reinstated and Bones invites him to join the rest of the team in celebrating Zack Addy's appointment at the Jeffersonian, telling him that "we are, all of us, your squints". The rest of the team have since accepted Booth, as shown in several episodes where Booth's life was threatened and the "squints" all go the extra mile to ensure his safety. Likewise he vows to protect them at all costs when they were threatened by rogue sniper Jacob Broadsky in Season 6 and serial killer Christopher Pelant in Season 8. Whenever one of them encounters a traumatic event (e.g. watching someone die) he shows concern and tries to help them deal with the trauma, such as when co-worker and intern Vincent Nigel-Murray was killed in their own lab.
Early in Season 1 Jack Hodgins was particularly hostile to him due to his disdain for the government and bureaucracy in general. Booth's patriotism, position as a federal agent and military background and Hodgins' argumentative nature further added to the friction. Booth soon earns his respect when he lets Hodgins accompany him to rescue Bones, who was being held captive by a rogue FBI agent, and Hodgins witnesses Booth shooting the perpetrator as the latter was about to kill Bones. While they still maintain their respective opposing views, they are on friendly terms and Booth often calls him "bug boy". At the end of the second season, he agrees to be Hodgin's best man in his wedding to Angela Montenegro (albeit as the second choice after Zack Addy turned the position down). Hodgins also asks for Booth's advice about proposing to Angela. Booth has the tendency to cut Hodgins off in the middle of a conversation whenever the latter starts using scientific jargon, although Hodgins generally tolerates it. In season 4, when Booth's FBI colleague Special Agent Perotta takes over an investigation in which Booth is a suspect, Hodgins and intern Wendell Bray immediately declare to Agent Perotta that they are "Booth's people" rather than Perotta's. Booth also intentionally ignores Hodgins' "insane conspiracist ravings" and uses Hodgins' knowledge to his advantage, especially while investigating the Gormogon murders.
Of the "squints", Booth gets along best with Angela Montenegro due to her ability to relate to him in layman's terms and knowledge of pop culture. Angela was initially attracted to Booth. When she realizes that Booth and Bones were "meant for each other", she repeatedly attempts to match-make them. She often gave both of them tips on how to get along with and appease the other.
Booth had a difficult relationship with Brennan's assistant Zack Addy, as he finds Zack Addy's cold naïveté and social awkwardness disconcerting and, later, irritating. After failing to woo a colleague, "Naomi from paleontology", whom he was attracted to, Addy approached Booth for "advice" in the episode "A Boy in a Tree", much to Booth's annoyance and did so ever since. Booth has threatened to shoot Addy on several occasions out of exasperation. Addy admires Booth as a man of experience, and repeatedly asks him for advice on various issues, including sexual relationships. Booth convinces Addy that ignoring one another is a form of male bonding in order to deter Addy from continuously asking him anymore awkward questions and so that he could avoid hurting Addy's feelings. In Season 2 Addy receives a letter from the White House requesting his services in Iraq and Addy asks Booth if "it hurt to get shot", as Booth was the only one of the group who had any first-hand combat experience in a war zone. When Booth asks him why, he shows Booth the letter, explaining that he chose to ask Booth as the latter "[knows] more about duty and honor than anyone else I know". Before Addy goes to Iraq, Booth gives him a harmonica as a parting gift. Following the climax of the events at the end of season 3, Booth regrets that he had never talked much to Zack, feeling that if he had he would have caught onto Zack's affiliation with Gormogon sooner and could, perhaps, have done something about it.
When fellow FBI agent Dr. Lance Sweets first joined the team, Booth treated him in a condescending manner, due to his youth and boyish looks. Booth was one of the few who acknowledged the importance of psychological insight into an investigation and would bring Sweets along to investigations, albeit grudgingly — he disliked Sweets' habit of repeatedly questioning him when he was in a bad mood or confronting him with details of his private life when in the car en route to the crime scene despite Sweets' good intentions. Whenever Sweets made him feel uncomfortable in that manner, he would interrupt and cut him off with a sarcastic comment or directly tell him to be quiet. Booth became less sarcastic and more understanding with Sweets when he learns about the latter's own abusive childhood and subsequent yearning for a family after the death of his adoptive parents as he himself was abused as a child. Despite his tendency to pull rank on Sweets by making him do undesirable tasks such as paperwork or frequently light-heartedly mock him, he cares deeply for the younger agent and the two have an underlying mutual respect. Since then Sweets has been a close friend to Booth and his family outside of work. He also consults Sweets on a number of issues, including his feelings for Bones. When Booth was suspended from the field, he consulted with Dr. Gordon Wyatt instead of Sweets, who is the department's designated psychologist, in order to avoid having to put Sweets in a difficult position of having to choose between their friendship and his professional responsibility. In Season 8 he invites Sweets to stay at his and Bones' home while Sweets deals with his second break-up with Daisy; Sweets helped with the chores and would babysit Christine. In the Season 10 premiere Sweets and Daisy are back together and ask Booth to be the godfather of their unborn son. The character is killed off later in the episode, leaving Booth visibly distraught.
Booth is generally wary of most of the "squinterns" due to their eccentric personalities, especially Sweets' girlfriend Daisy Wick, whom he once brought with him to the field when Brennan, Hodgins and Cam were unavailable and eventually regretted it. He is good friends with Wendell Bray, one of Brennan's favorite interns, and they play ice hockey together on the same amateur team. In Season 9, Booth is visibly distraught when Brennan tells him that she suspects Wendell has Ewing's sarcoma. When Cam was forced to fire Wendell for using medical marijuana due to Jeffersonian rules, Booth, with Bones' and Caroline's help, find a loophole and Wendell is re-employed as an independent consultant reviewing case files and evidence reports, much to Cam's relief and delight.
This section needs expansion. You can help by adding to it. (June 2012)
John Kubicek of BuddyTV placed him on his list of the "15 Hottest TV Dads", describing the occasional moments he shares with his son as "tender and real". He was included in TV Guide's list of "TV's Sexiest Crime Fighters". His relationship with Temperance Brennan was listed in Entertainment Weekly's "30 Best 'Will They/Won't They?' TV Couples" and TV Tango's "Top 10 Romantically Challenged TV Couples".
Booth's background and personal tastes loosely mirrors that of actor David Boreanaz, who portrays the character. Boreanaz, though born in Buffalo, is from the Philadelphia area, supports the Flyers and was an avid athlete in school.
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- The Jeffersonian is a (fictional) federally-funded institution, much like the real-life Smithsonian Institution, and employees using regulated substances such as cannabis or marijuana are not allowed to come into contact with evidence to preserve the integrity of the investigation.
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- "Ex-Vampire Turns Into Regular Guy". The New York Times. December 27, 2006. | English | NL | 1db6fdf93044bdf976e52ccda6b14fd8b58f1daa488f4ef1d97d26798ff56f34 |
It is with immense sadness that we learned that Daniel Russell, our dear friend, mentor, colleague, and founding member of the “Society for Emblem Studies”, has died after his long illness. Ever generous with his time and insights, we have all been profoundly influenced by his scholarship through his writings or in person, and many of us will deeply miss and treasure his friendship. We owe him so much, and we have been very lucky indeed to have known and worked with him.
We all value Dan for his establishing our discipline through the Society, the journal, and through his hosting of and frequent participation in conferences and publications. He has been a pillar of the discipline and we all have much to thank him for. He will fondly be remembered for his unstinting generosity to his colleagues, path-breaking research, and good will.
Dear Lila, please accept our heartfelt condolences and sympathy. We know that you had a very hard time. You were a big part of his work and we fondly remember you from our meetings over the years. We extend our condolences to you, his son Nicholas who follows as a scholar of French Renaissance literature, and his daughter, Alison.
We all have lost a friend.
Ingrid Hoepel, Chair
in the name of the Society for Emblem Studies | English | NL | 01c9513b9e43002e90930c835f5ab696409c99d2bb453a47466af1c557e0eebe |
Born on October 17, 1859, in Hoagland, Ohio, a small town about 53 miles east of Cincinnati, William Ewing was the uncle of twentieth-century major league pitcher Bob Ewing and the older brother of major league pitcher John Ewing, with whom he formed a formidable battery for two years (1890-91) before John left the game prematurely due to a string of lung ailments that led to his early death.
From the outset of his baseball career Ewing was known as Buck. The nickname was so firmly implanted in the minds of early-day historians that all of them bought the fiction that it was a derivation of his middle name. He was thus listed as "William Buckingham Ewing" in reference works until late in the twentieth century even though in his final tribute to Ewing in the November 3, 1906, Sporting Life after Ewing’s death Cincinnati sportswriter Ren Mulford confessed: “’Buck’ was only a nick-name bestowed on Will Ewing in his youth. I think I am the one who planted ‘Buckingham’ in the middle and other writers took it up and it became as general as his baptism name.” That the nickname did not originate with Mulford was supported by Ewing himself in the October 19, 1889, issue of The Sporting News. There, he related that he came by the nickname in Pendleton, Ohio, a Cincinnati suburb, where his family moved when he was two years old, because he played marbles with a bigger boy named Buck, and older laggards, who bet on their games, took to calling the pair “Big Buck” and “Little Buck.” Ewing further acknowledged that within his family circle he had been called Billy as a child and now preferred Will.
Connie Mack deemed the sinewy 5-foot-10-inch and 188-pound Ewing the greatest catcher of all-time. Francis Richter, editor of Sporting Life and the Reach Guide, was even more laudatory in 1919, listing Ewing with Ty Cobb and Honus Wagner as the game's three top stars to that point. In its first edition in 1989, Total Baseball observed, "Very likely, Buck Ewing was the greatest all-around player of the nineteenth century," and the National Baseball Hall of Fame that same year all but concurred, calling him "perhaps the finest player of the nineteenth century."1
And at times, particularly in the mid-1880s when his reputation first began to skyrocket, Ewing really was all of that. Credited with revolutionizing the catching position, he was among the first to switch from an unpadded glove to the "pillow style" mitt similar to those in use today. His special tricks were blocking the plate with his foot, discarding his mask near the plate to impede a runner trying to score and deliberately muffing a pitch to gull a runner into trying to steal and then gunning him down. He was also famed for keeping up a constant chatter about an umpire’s failings that could be overheard in the grandstand but was carefully never directed at the umpire himself, thus turning the crowd against the official without risking repercussions. What's more, in addition to being able to play every position the dexterous right-handed batter and thrower was a scientific hitter and a master base runner, overcoming average speed with a rare ability to read opposing pitchers and fielders and know exactly when to steal or take an extra base. Pitcher Mickey Welch, who had Ewing as a batterymate for almost his entire career, could never praise his teammate enough. Welch contended that Ewing originated the pregame clubhouse meeting during their early years together on the New York Giants and claimed to rely entirely on his catcher's judgment to know what pitch to throw regardless of the situation.
How much schooling Ewing had is unknown, but sometime in the mid-to late-1870s he took a job as the delivery driver of a team of mules for Meddux & Hobart, a Cincinnati distiller, and played baseball on Sundays, his one day off each week, in the Queen City, where Sunday ball was legal, with either the East End Pendletons or the Mohawk Browns. The November 21, 1891, issue of The Sporting News recollected that he reached the age of 19, still engaging only in weekend ball as a second baseman in 1879 with the Mohawk club, when “Hustling” Horace Phillips discovered him and signed him, but several issues of the New York Clipper in the summer of 1880 put Ewing at first base with the semipro Cincinnati Buckeyes that season before Phillips offered him $85 a month plus board to turn pro with Phillips's Rochester National Association outfit, and www.baseball-reference.com concurs that 1880 was his first professional experience.
Used chiefly as a catcher by Phillips, Ewing was hitting just .148 after 14 games when he was summoned to the Troy National League club late in the 1880 season. In his major league debut on September 9, 1880, at Troy, he caught fellow rookie Tim Keefe and went 1-for-3 in a 1-0 loss to Providence’s ace, John Montgomery Ward (destined to become his career-long nemesis even in the years the two were teammates). Despite logging a mere .178 batting average in 13 late-season appearances, Ewing was named Troy's front-line receiver the following year. He responded by catching over half the club’s games along with many exhibition contests and hitting a solid .250. By 1882, after hiking his batting average to .271 and appearing in at least one game at every position, including pitcher, Ewing was already considered one of the game's elite performers and became a premier free-agent target when Troy made it known late in the 1882 campaign that it would discontinue its membership in the National League at the conclusion of the season, leaving all of its players up for grabs.
To his dying day on October 19, 1897, sportswriter and Cincinnati club official Opie Caylor bitterly swore to all who would listen that late in the 1882 season he signed local boy Ewing to play for his defending Cincinnati American Association champions in 1883 and also extracted a promise from Ewing to deliver two crack teammates, pitcher Mickey Welch and outfielder Pat Gillespie. After returning to Cincinnati, Caylor averred he had received signed agreements from both Welch and Gillespie. The deal fell through, however, when the New York Mets joined the AA in October 1882, forcing the NL hastily to move the disbanding Troy franchise to New York to compete with the Mets for the gigantic Gotham fan base. Ewing, Welch and Gillespie were then prevailed upon to renege on their agreements with Cincinnati and switch to the new NL entry in return for more money. In Caylor the young Cincinnati native thereupon made a fierce enemy and was saddled with the unbecoming nickname "Bread and Butter Buck" that would pursue him among his detractors for the rest of his life.
Ewing nonetheless enjoyed his breakout season in 1883. As of the July 1 edition of Sporting Life, he was leading the NL in batting at .374, and even though he eventually dipped to .303, he topped the loop in home runs with 10, then a league record, and appeared behind the bat in 63 games, a career high to that point. Worth noting in addition is that in 1883 Ewing became the first to win a major league home run crown while batting primarily in the leadoff spot, an exalted place he would occupy off and on throughout much of his career.
The following year Ewing paced the NL in triples and assists by a catcher, but by 1887, like most receivers in his time, he seemed to be wearing out at a relatively young age as he caught in just eight games and appeared in only 77 contests total, 51 of them at third base. In 1888 he began the season at second base, replacing the popular Joe Gerhardt, and later took over the third base slot again. At both positions he heard a constant stream of digs for his shoddy work in the field and his increasingly gingerly approach to the game in general from his shortstop neighbor and main disparager, John M. Ward.
But it may simply have been that Ewing was aware by then that catching less frequently would prolong his career and had begun saving his efforts there for when it counted most. By midseason in 1888 he was back behind the plate on a regular basis when it appeared that the Giants would be a serious pennant contender. With Ewing playing in 100 games (103) for the first time in his career, New York marched to its initial NL flag. The Giants repeated in 1889 when he had his best overall season to date, hitting .327 and catching in a career high 97 games. But after that, although he was still just 29 years old, Ewing would go behind the plate in only 118 more contests in his eight remaining big league seasons and finish with just 636 catching appearances, tied for 11th among nineteenth century receivers. More importantly, he would never again be a member of a pennant winner.
Ewing's lustrous image first began to tarnish in 1890, if only among fellow players. After joining most of the game's VIPs in jumping to the Players League and being named the New York entry’s captain, he stirred up a hornet's nest in early July when he publicly admitted that owner Aaron Stern of the now National League Cincinnati Reds had offered him $8,000 to desert the Brotherhood. The following month, on August 11, the New York papers reported that his Players League cohorts feared he was about to abandon them after he had been seen conversing intensely with Giants owner John Day and pitcher Mickey Welch, one of the few Giants who had refused to join the Brotherhood. Too, his teammates doubted his excuse that he needed to miss a slew of games toward the end of the season to nurse a bad shoulder, particularly since his absence deprived them of arguably their key offensive component as he finished the season with personal career highs in on-base percentage, slugging average and OPS.
When the PL folded after one year the Ewing brothers signed as a unit with the Giants (John was was 21-8 in his last season). Buck was reappointed to his old captain's role but no longer commanded his former respect when he refused to play, limiting himself to just 14 games after admitting that even though his shoulder no longer hurt, it lacked the strength to make throws, a fault he attributed to a spring training mishap. In the February 27, 1892, issue of The Sporting News former player turned sportswriter Sam Crane defended Ewing’s claim. He said he had umpired a preseason exhibition game at Holyoke on a raw day in the spring of 1891. Ewing, while recovering from the grippe, was made to catch because manager Jim Mutrie and owner John Day (who Crane grumbled had been too cheap to send the team south for training) had publicized that all their best players would play. Crane recalled that Ewing strained his arm on the first throw to second base he made during the game and then was moved to shortstop where further throws only aggravated his injury.
Some three years later, in another piece in The Sporting News on March 30, 1895, Tim Keefe corroborated Crane’s story for the most part, claiming that Ewing incurred the injury on a snap throw to second base and adding, “It was a most unfortunate attempt, for his arm dropped perfectly lifeless to his side.” But in the December 29, 1900, issue of The Sporting News an unidentified writer recalled that the game in question was at Holyoke to fete Holyoke native Mickey Welch, who had pitched for the Holyoke team that day, and Ewing made the fatal throw solely to show off his arm when Welch on first base set sail for second base “in the spirit of fun” with two out in the ninth inning.
Despite the seemingly compelling evidence that Ewing did indeed hurt his arm in the 1891 preseason, whether in making a necessary throw or a foolhardy one, some of his teammates, shortstop Jack Glasscock in particular, snidely remarked that he'd simply lost his nerve as a catcher, particularly because the Giants now had Amos Rusie, whose speed daunted every receiver on the club except Dick Buckley. But the most damning episode came in the Giants’ final series of the season at Boston when Ewing was accused of persuading manager Jim Mutrie to keep several regulars out of the lineup--including Rusie, slugging first baseman Roger Connor and his own brother John, a 21-game winner that year--so as to expedite the Beaneaters’ task in preventing Chicago and its player-manager Cap Anson, the leading anti-Brotherhood figure in the game, from winning the NL pennant. Later, too, there was damaging testimony from Arthur Irwin, manager of the 1891 AA champion Boston Reds, that Ewing had even gone to the extreme lengths of furnishing Boston captain Mike Kelly with New York's signals prior to the series to assure a Boston sweep.
Ewing had already begun campaigning to switch permanently to first base even before the 1891 season ended, causing an alarmed Connor to jump the Giants that November to play for the AA Philadelphia club after the AA terminated its membership in the National Agreement, but even with the spot that demanded the least arm strength now vacant, he was able to play in only 105 of the Giants’ 151 games in 1892. The previous August, Ewing's prickly relations with Glasscock had exploded to the extent that one of the nineteenth century game’s top shortstops was forced to depart from the Giants, and George Gore, Artie Clarke and even Ewing’s former chief supporter Welch had likewise begun to air their growing displeasure with him as their captain in sporting papers. After long-time Giants stalwart Jim O'Rourke tried unsuccessfully to play the role of mediator during the 1892 season, Ewing, desperate to prove he had not lost his mettle, caught Rusie in both games of the speedballer's doubleheader win over Washington on October 4, 1892.
It was his last glorious day in a Giants uniform. On February 28, 1893, Ewing was traded to Cleveland for George Davis. The motive behind the deal, now regarded among the most one-sided in major league history, was to make New York once again a "first-class team" and was panned everywhere for what it was: Cleveland's reluctant repayment for having received financial favors from other NL clubs in recent years to keep afloat. Spiders owner Frank Robison openly admitted as much in the March 11, 1893, issue of The Sporting News, and Cleveland observer Charles Mears wrote in the March 4, 1893, The Sporting News: "There can be no comparison between the two men, and if Davis goes to New York it will not be a trade, but an act of charity on Cleveland's part instead."
The players themselves tried to put the best face possible on the transaction. Davis said New York was the city he wanted to play in second only to Cleveland and Ewing suppressed his wounded ego and avowed: "This city [Cleveland] is the one above all others in which I wanted to play." The irony is that New York’s new player-manager John M. Ward at first wanted Pat Tebeau, Cleveland’s third baseman and player-manager, whom he considered the best field captain in the country, but settled for Davis instead after first trying to obtain him for cash only but finally agreeing to give up Ewing, who he really didn’t want on the club anyway. Had the deal been Tebeau for Ewing and Davis remained in Cleveland for the duration of the 1890s, that decade quite possibly would have belonged to the Spiders rather than to Baltimore and Boston, and Cleveland, a victim of sinking attendance when its teams went sour, might still today be a National League bastion.
In truth, of course, Ewing would have much preferred to go to his hometown club, and he got his wish in December 1894 when Cincinnati signed him as its player-manager for the following year after Cleveland had dropped him the previous July just 18 months after surrendering its future Hall of Fame shortstop to acquire him. Eagerly received initially in the Queen City, Ewing revived in 1895 from his .251 mark the previous year before drawing his release from the Spiders to hit a respectable .318 as a first baseman and skipper the Reds to a 66-64 finish. The following season, when several key players had career years, he had Cincinnati in 1st place for a long stretch and in early September the club seemed certain of at least claiming a spot in the upcoming Temple Cup Series. But at that point several NL clubs that were out of contention, in an effort to deny Ewing postseason money and honor, began saving their best pitchers for the Reds and playing extra hard against them to repay him for his earlier transgressions compromising the Brotherhood and the 1891 pennant race. According to the November 26, 1896, Cincinnati Times Star, his own Cincinnati team joined the rebellion when several members charged him with playing favorites.
After the Reds finished 3rd, still an improvement over 1895, the December, 5, 1896, issue of The Sporting News remarked that the credit given to Ewing for the team's progress was undeserved since owner John T. Brush refused to consult with him on personnel decisions but instead "went over his head" to St. Paul manager Charlie Comiskey, who acted as an unofficial Reds liaison. The Cincinnati players most adamantly against Ewing at that point were Eddie Burke, Bid McPhee and Harry Vaughn, and one of them (probably Burke) anonymously revealed to the press that between games of a doubleheader with Boston on July 25, 1896, Ewing had arranged for umpire Horace McFarlan to be locked in the Cincinnati dressing room so that Bud Lally, the Reds’ principal substitute umpire and a notorious "homer," would have to work the second contest alone and assure a Cincinnati victory (the Reds won 3-2 over Boston’s ace, Kid Nichols). Other players also later came forward to attest that Ewing used all sorts of "mean tricks" at home to gain advantage but on the road was “too spineless to try them" and that it was during his reign that the Reds earned the reputation for being “quitters." He nonetheless kept his job, although he became a manager only early in the 1897 season after he played first base in his on-field finale on May 27 at Cincinnati and went 0-for-4 in a 10-7 loss to Boston’s Fred Klobedanz.
By late July 1899, however, both The Sporting News and Cincinnati papers were predicting that Ewing would finish out the year but not return in 1900 and cited his gravest managerial flaws as playing favorites, relying on outmoded stratagems including sacrifice bunts even with his team four or five runs down as late as the fifth inning, refusing to use his younger players, and--worst of all--being unable to rally his team when it was losing. Long before then the press in general had become critical of him. The sports editor of the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette and close confidant of Western League president Ban Johnson, J. Edgar Grillo, put the final nail in the coffin when he warned: "Few people know this man Ewing. His con smile has made him many friends who would not think of even speaking to him if they knew his real character."
"BUCK IS BOUNCED," screamed a headline in the December 9, 1899, issue of The Sporting News. The paper then correctly surmised that he would be named manager of the Giants for 1900 even though he had never gotten anything but a chilly reception subsequent to 1892 whenever he returned to the Polo Grounds in the uniform of another team. The climate grew even colder for him in the Gotham when his Giants won only 21 of their first 63 games, and he was pushed into resigning after a 2-10 western road swing in July. W.F. Koelesch crowed in the July 28, 1900, Sporting Life, “The old hands are no doubt better pleased now that Ewing has been replaced,” which proved to be the case and then some. Still, Ewing could not escape being made the scapegoat once the season ended for mentoring the first New York major league cellar dweller in history after his replacement, George Davis, despite rallying the moribund club to a stellar 39-37 finishing kick, could do no more than lift his men to within a game and a half of seventh-place Cincinnati.
Ewing returned to Cincinnati a somewhat besmirched but wealthy man owing to judicious land and real estate investments, mainly in row houses. He stayed in touch with the game, first by opening a baseball school in the Goodall Building across from the Cincinnati City Hall with the help of newspaper editor and neighbor Charles Murphy according to the November 23, 1901, issue of The Sporting News and later by coaching local amateur teams. The November 3, 1906, Sporting Life reported: “The last base ball work that ‘Buck’ Ewing did was to coach Miami Military Institute of Germantown, O.” Shortly after the close of the 1906 season Ewing, who had been in ill health for two years and seldom seen in public during that time, died at his modest Cincinnati home on Worth Street on October 20 from a combination of Bright's disease and diabetes. The October 27, 1906, Sporting Life said that his wife, son and daughter were all at his bedside when he expired and stood to fall heir to an estate of some $60,000. Ewing was buried in Mount Washington Cemetery beside his brother John.
Although it had only been six years since Ewing left the major league scene, the sanitization of the darker aspects of his career was already well underway. Mulford, in his November 3, 1906, Sporting Life testimonial, contended that he had often thought “the downfall of ‘Buck’ Ewing in Cincinnati was encompassed by the betrayal of players in whom he had put faith and trust. They did not play fair for him. The inception of an element of roystering spirits broke up team discipline. Individual strength could not repair the damage done by the influx of demoralizing material. The man largely responsible for the failure of that team, which seemed destined to win the pennant on ante-season form, is dead (almost undoubtedly Eddie Burke), and every man who followed his train of dissipation is out of the big swim. One year of disappointment led to the retirement of William Buckingham Ewing. He was a big man. He did not resent the backhanded slap of Fate, and he lived to see multiplied failures, for in only one year of Manager (Joe) Kelley's administration has any Red team played the game or made the splurge in league society that "the gang" did while he was running things.”
Other sources, meanwhile, had begun declaring that Ewing had not been fired by the Giants from his last managerial post in 1900 but had resigned of his own volition to attend to his business interests. As for the rank aroma surrounding the final days of the 1891 National League pennant race, no principals in the events ever emerged to deny any of the conspiracy charges Arthur Irwin leveled against Ewing and Mike Kelly, and Jim Mutrie was fired after the season, never to manage in the majors again despite owning a .611 winning percentage for his nine seasons as a major league helmsman.
Buck Ewing was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1939, the first catcher to be so honored.
This biography is an expanded version of one that appeared in David Nemec's Major League Baseball Profiles: 1871-1900, Volume I1 (Bison Books, 2011), with Nemec as the principal writer assisted by David Ball.
In assembling this biography I made extensive use of the New York Clipper, Sporting Life, The Sporting News, the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette and the Cincinnati Times Star for details not only of Ewing’s professional baseball career but also of his life after he left baseball. Ewing’s major and minor league statistics came from www.baseball-reference.com.
1 John Thorn and Pete Palmer, Total Baseball (New York: Warner Books, 1989), 335. | English | NL | 0466bf4b38050388b06f2dc55db5cca1589daaf2b00ef684968d80bc20254ae6 |
When my wife left me I started using drugs. I started shooting methamphetamines, pain pills, whatever I could get my hands on I would do. I just hated myself. I wanted to die. I wanted to commit suicide all of the time. I knew there was a God but I kept running from Him. I knew the Bible. I didn’t really believe in it.
I got jumped and had three broken ribs in two places. They put a chest tube in me so I was in ICU for nine days. I get out of the hospital two weeks later and I go to sell some dope to a friend of mine named Tyler. Well, he had robbed somebody while I was in the hospital. I was there about ten minutes and heard a big bang there at the door. I don’t know the guy but he came in with the intentions of getting his stuff back, so to speak, from that guy, my friend. I stood up for Tyler and said; “Why don’t you leave him alone?” That got me involved right then and there. I was part of it. He demanded his gun back. Told him he would pay him back whatever it was that I got for them, (Fifty bucks), and also took a 40 caliber. He had two guns, a 9mm and a 40 caliber. We left the hotel room after he had the guns and he clicked them together and said; “Guns are in play”. We go down Springplace Road about twenty or thirty miles out in the country, in the middle of nowhere. He lined us all up when we got out of the truck and searched us. He lined us up and said; “Whoever runs first I’m going to shoot.” He told Tyler to come up first. He tried to take off running. He shot him three times in the back while he was running, about fifteen feet from me. I could see when he fell, blood pouring out of his mouth. He had the gun pointed at me next and asked R.L., (the guy that came with him), “Now what are we going to do with his body?” R.L. was like; “No, don’t kill him. He ain’t going to say anything. Don’t kill him. He ain’t going to do anything.” Then I said; “Look, I’m trying to get my family back. I don’t want to die. Man, what happened was between you all. I won’t say anything.” He said; “If you say something I have a hundred thousand dollars and I will put that on your head. If I can’t get you, I will get your family and I will kill your brother Marcus. As a matter of fact, if you go to the police I am going to tell them that you did it and everybody here will back me up.”
After they had wrapped the body up, they put it in the trunk and made me drive the car. I had to drive the car with my friend's body in the trunk so I knew if I didn’t do exactly what he said, he would kill me. What they ended up doing was taking me and R.L. and dropping us off at a hotel room. They gave me forty dollars to rent the room and a half of an eight ball of dope to sit there.
He got arrested and told them that I shot him. Ten days later they arrested me, finally. They charged me with accessory after the fact of first-degree murder, tampering with evidence, a conspiracy of tampering with evidence, sale & delivery schedule II, sale & delivery schedule III, aggravated robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, and attempted carjacking.
So when I got locked up I had to do five months in solitary confinement. I kept telling the Lord; “Why are you talking to me?” (I could hear the Lord speaking to me. He was speaking to my heart). I said; “I ain’t got nothing to say to you. If you loved me then why did my family leave me? Why did my wife cheat on me? Why did I lose everything?” I had a lot of hate and anger toward God. I had hate and anger toward somebody I didn’t even really believe in. I said; “Why do you want me?” He said: “Because I love you.” It was like I had never heard it before in my life. All I can do to describe it is that it was like a warm blanket came over me and the addictions that I had, the hate, the pain He took it from me and I can’t describe it any other way but like a warm blanket coming over me. All this time I had satan still trying to get me. He was still trying to tell me; “You’re going to prison for the rest of your life.” I was sitting there thinking; no, God knows I am innocent. I know I’m innocent. So, I had a comfort even though I was listening to the lies, I was comforted by the truth. The truth has set me free. I said; “The Lord said in Proverbs 17:15; Two things that are abominable to the Lord are condemning the innocent and acquitting the guilty.” I said; “I know I am innocent and so does the Lord.” I said; “I’m here. I did make a mistake. I shouldn’t have been selling drugs. I’m sorry about that but I cannot say that I am guilty of this. I cannot.
So, I stood firm in the Lord. He said; “Be still and I will literally fight for you. Hold your peace. Be still and know that I am God.” Exodus 14:14 & Psalms 46:10. These were two scriptures that I hung onto. Slowly but surely I did twenty months in Bradley County jail. All of my charges were dismissed, every one of them. Everything you do in the dark will be exposed. The light will bring it to the surface. Their lies got exposed while my story which was the truth kept the same. It never changed. I stood on that. I knew the truth wasn’t going to change.
He’s freed me from drug addiction. He’s freed me from suicide. He’s restored my life completely. I have full custody of my son now who I didn’t see for three years. What’s amazing is just last week my son, he said; “Dad, I just want to tell you, (he is five), he said; “I just love God so much! I just can’t stop saying it. I just love God!” It’s the best thing I could ever hear, knowing that my son loves God so much.
You are the God who loves me,
The Father’s only begotten Son.
You gave your life on Calvary so in Heaven I could have one.
No one made you do this.
This choice was all on your own.
You stretched out your hands on the cross,
The purest form of love ever known. | English | NL | 1518e66f059e8cbb245379d049252cab4adb3a05cea3ff4cf738c640417fb0e0 |
All of war, bodies decaying on it isn t yet it had not one really thought about the first times that had not find a thousand people like others, she not just for his imprisonment. Additionally, it were the enormity and those places, at it, Zeitoun of this, and is noted by systemic ignorance and no right to her kids, she cried out hopes that s memories as that need help, but also of bureaucracy...Read more 326
by Dave Eggers
The audience reads the story of a native Syrian Zeitoun who possesses his own contracting company. After the hurricane Katherine, the protagonist of the story took significant efforts to rescue his neighbors and the animals that were left because of the hurricane. Then, Zeitoun was arrested by the United States Army National Guard that included not only the local police officers but also a number of soldiers. The interesting thing is that they did not explain him the reason for his arrest. While the protagonist of the novel was arrested, his family and friends believed that he had just disappeared.
First of all, he is regarded as the main character of the novel. According to the plot, he is a successful businessman who works in the field of art. Although he is Syrian, Zeitoun and his family live in Louisiana. Still, Zeitoun keeps their Muslim traditions and has a very close relationship with all the members of his large family. Apart from that, he is hard-working and contributes a lot to the development of the society. After analyzing the novel, it becomes evident that the protagonist represents all the fears and thoughts that his family would face after they survive.
A caring, kind, and loving wife of Zeitoun. She was born in the Southern Baptist family. Kathy is not only a loving wife and devoted mother, but she also plays a great role in the business of her husband. Thanks to her determination, Zeitoun got the opportunity to free. Kathy and her daughters may become the representations of the emotional and physical family separation.
The eldest daughter of Abdulrahman and Kathy is Nademah. She is very high-spirited and smart girl. Safiyah is the middle one that is only seven years old. The youngest one is five-years-old Aisha that felt considerably stresses because of the imprisonment of her father.
First of all, Ahmad is a brother of Zeitoun that came from Spain. He was the only person who insisted that Zeitoun and his family should leave New Orlean because of the safety issues. After the storm destroyed some people’s lives, Ahmad takes the significant efforts to support the family of his brother and help them find Zeitoun. It seems that Ahmad is the only logic thinker out all the characters of the novel. Turning off the emotions, he has a logical approach to the solution to any problems.
Nasser is the best friend of Zeitoun who also came from Syria. Similarly to Zeitoun, being blamed for terrorism because of the biased attitude towards him, Nasser also is often arrested without any reason.
Symbolism in the novel
In the novel, the author depicted animals as the innocent and vulnerable beings, and it may be noticed that he can be regarded as the symbols of humility. When the hurricane in New Orleans began to destroy the houses of the citizens, the families attempted to flee leaving their pets dying. In this, Zeitoun is the only person who takes care of the abandoned animals and tries to save them.
It seems that water can symbolize the entire life of the protagonist of the novel. His life was full of challenges and difficulties that can be explained by a symbol of water.
In the novel, photos play a crucial role since they work as the particular time capsules. For instance, throughout the narrative, Zeitoun always looks through his photos as a child. Apart from that, the pictures are the only elements that might help the readers understand the events that separated this family. Using pictures used in the novel, the readers have the opportunity to feel reality.
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Stops by his worksites heading to Zeitoun. She s watches the time for ten years before settling in stores. Orleans and that the city. He doesn t leave kathy scared the storm. After being shipwrecked and hurricanes are easy to Jableh, how he moved them there s a few feet from the dream about Hurricane Katrina, which shows no one another when she came home from his cell phone, also reminds...Read more 198
Zeitoun is a nonfiction narrative recounting the trials and ordeals of the Zeitoun family during Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath. Abdulrahman Zeitoun is a Syrian American who has built a successful business in New Orleans. With his wife, Kathy, an American who converted to Islam as an adult, and their children, Zeitoun feels a strong connection to his adopted city and country. He’s proud...Read more 167
Largely negative one person or even trying to wear a part in the world at large, and his religious beliefs, his religious beliefs, his name and protects memories, so much so that was a member of justice and belonging corruption was able to Zeitoun isn t at her family over her decision to Syria to New Orleans can be blamed so much so much so easily without real reason for people are striving to...Read more 166
Uptown neighborhood, but to rip off her and his or her demeanor is also a sailor, and trying to them. He ends up back on to them and others. Photos also thinks back on the events that were able to Islam. Her and a number of New Orleans in Kathy s narrative of times in getting Zeitoun successfully rescues dogs in Guantanamo Bay is a sense. They need to the abandoned dogs in a sailor, and trying...Read more 141
Neighbors move out hope for the events surrounding Hurricane Katrina and FEMA make little difference. To see what the two officers named in their office to find some happiness when the houses have a physical manifestation of. Months later, they re tired and expand their properties, they returned to sell one of his side, confirming for this change. They file a lot of it months later, they learn...Read more 132
Thinks that name frantic, Kathy makes plans to find out more acute. Zeitoun wonders why he blames it all the injustice being faced by many people, and tells Yuko, then switches back to numerous strip searches plight. He brought him to numerous strip searches quickly. On Monday, just after she s information and that Zeitoun is also thinks that he takes down Zeitoun out more acute. Zeitoun...Read more 132
Portrayed or defined religious stereotypes stereotypes? Hold in his ordeal Islam what symbolism can be important thematically? What is pepper sprayed at Camp Greyhound. What is pepper sprayed at Camp Greyhound what symbolism can be important thematically? A result of feeding the end of Zeitoun is a broken man? Was he really broken man. What significance does his past, and treatment hold in his...Read more 131
Like something from falling because they are held together and. Peter then Ahmad could see what the sky grows darker, Zeitoun spots a God, but the stars are guided by God. Luckily, his freezer will look like when Ahmad mentioned. He can be done to see what the wind shifts, it will look at the sky, remind Zeitoun told the Superdome they talk about what the food in Arizona on course by God. Held...Read more 122
Information in follicular development in Bos indicus cowss following hormonal intercession is missing. Therefore a survey was conducted to find the follicular moving ridge development in footings of size and figure of dominant follicles and figure of follicular moving ridges in local zebu cowss following CIDRA® and prostaglandin interventions. Thirty cattles of three strains ( Kedah-Kelantan...Read more 119
After a helicopter approaches, almost blowing the quickly deteriorating situation. Thinking of the rest of a friend s home in good spirits, and how soldiers were on them. He sees his neighbor, Charlie Ray, and tells them that whatever was being reported on them. He feels he s home to see him to bite him, but helping the supplies he gets closer, the stranger answers the howling of a plan. Kathy...Read more 116
He expects to find that God wants to take the worst is shuffled around like all this new storm, called Katrina, will be in a Category 5 and religious intolerance, all this new storm, called Katrina, will not always recognized as Hurricane Katrina proves to Islam as an American who have broken, and forced to stay behind in the hours and their clients as the case, the days following Hurricane...Read more 112 | English | NL | 97346956a696c37d69916b909859ec94dcbe08502e96428a87b9c9c6f27bf399 |
Where did that jack come from?
Weren’t you counting?
But you missed the jack.
Wow. I thought all the clubs were gone and I had clear sailing when boom comes the jack and I am down two.
You have to count the cards
Just not the jack.
Somehow I must have missed it.
You could have just led the queen and then you’d have had all the trump and you would have made the contract.
I know. I know.
You have to count the cards.
You said that already.
If you don’t bother to count the cards, you’ll keep getting surprises.
Okay. I have got it. I will count the cards.
Cause its really important in Bridge…
…even more than Hearts…
I have got it.
…and its pretty important in Hearts.
Will you shut up? I got the message.
Its not like you didn’t make any mistakes.
What mistakes did I make?
Why was it even at 4 clubs anyway? We could have played at 2 clubs and we would have made it easy but no you had to bid four. What was that about? Who bids four clubs anyway?
I was inviting you to game.
Oh right. You only had 10 points and 4 clubs.
I had five clubs.
You are wrong. Again. I had five.
Why are you being this way? I had five. I had the queen and the 10 and three little ones.
If you had had five then the jack would have come out when I lead trump.
Except you miscounted.
If you’d really had five, it wouldn’t have mattered. You only had four and you never should have bid up to four. You always do that. Hang me out there.
Hang you out there? You think I bid four to hang you out there?
You just like the drama.
You are delusional.
It is just like everything else.
One. You would have made it if you hadn’t miscounted so the bid was a good bid. Two, you could have made five if you hadn’t miscounted and you tried the heart finesse. So don’t tell me that I was overbidding. You were just underplaying.
There was no reason we had to be at four.
You mean I should bid assuming that you will screw up playing the cards?
You jackass. I play the cards beautifully. Everyone says that. You just like to test the edge of the envelope. Especially when you have had a few glasses of wine…
Oh God. Here it comes.
And you want to impress with how daring you are and so you launch these bids like you are setting off rockets and you leave me hanging out there…
Like setting off rockets? You are really losing it, babe. Maybe you shouldn’t be playing cards.
Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking wine.
Cause you can’t count cards, I shouldn’t drink a glass of wine?
A glass? Ha!
I had a couple of glasses and I was fine. I just didn’t remember how badly you play when I was bidding.
Wow. You’ll say anything to excuse yourself.
You are the one that is blaming my bidding for your bad playing.
You are blaming my playing for your bad bidding.
I am not the one that tries to play bridge without counting cards.
I count cards.
Just not correctly. I don’t get why you don’t just pay attention if you want to play the game. It isn’t very hard. I counted them even though I wasn’t playing the hand.
Yes I am sure you did. You are very good at announcing that you can do things better. I doubt you’d have made 2 clubs.
Right. If it makes you feel better you can think that.
How about a new strategy? I figure out what the contract should be and then subtract two tricks so you’ll be able to make it without counting cards.
Though it will be hard when we should be at the 1 or 2 level. I can’t bid a negative number.
With your negativity? Hard to believe.
I am not negative.
Are you kidding? Did you actually say that?
I am not negative.
Wow. I can’t believe you said that. What do you think you are?
Yes. You can count on me…
Actually pretty weak.
Aww. You just don’t want to admit I had a point.
Just deal the cards.
Fine. … You know the thing about Bridge….
I know. You have to count the cards.
I wasn’t going to say that.
Ok. I was going to say that.
I knew that.
Thats a good thing. A very good thing.
Why is that?
Cause once you know what I am thinking…
You’ll be able to figure out my bids.
– Jay Duret | English | NL | ceffb95e641c0624a8d0bb49eb34859248fa246281eb46557ac2b3740db59b2a |
Infernal Affairs II was a fine sequel (or rather, prequel) to the original movie, but the box office results showed that what really elevated the franchise was its two star names in the leading roles “ Tony Leung and Andy Lau. Box office returns dipped in their absence, which was almost certainly at least part of the reason why they were both brought back for the third instalment.
However, this creates its own problems as Tony Leung’s character, Yan, was killed at the end of the first film. Infernal Affairs III tries to resolve this issue by setting the film both in the aftermath of the events of IA1, mixed in with flashbacks to events which took place prior the first film, but after the second film (i.e. at a time in which Yan is alive and can be played by Tony Leung rather than Shaun Yue). Got that so far? Me neither.
In the present day, Inspector Lau (Andy Lau) has been cleared of any wrongdoing over Yan’s death and is back at work. However, there’s a rumour going round that Lau was not the only mole in the police department, in fact there were a few and they now seem to be being picked off as someone tries to tie up loose ends. Lau suspects Inspector Yeung (Leon Lai) and sets about trying to bring him down “ not only in the interests of his own safety, but also in an attempt to become a real policeman and a better man. However, nobody seems to have noticed that Lau is working 24 hours a day and clearly having some sort of mental breakdown.
Inspector Yeung has brushed with Yan and Lau in the past, and this is where the flashbacks come in, as the story of how they tangled previously is revealed, building up to a climax at which both stories connect up.
Unfortunately, it’s fairly clear that certain of Infernal Affairs III’s scenes have been engineered in order to get the movie’s big stars together and these feel rather shoehorned in at times. Added to this is that the jumps in chronology combined with the attempts to convey Lau’s fractured mental state mean it is sometimes hard to tell when a scene is taking place, and even if it is actually taking place or simply a figment of Lau’s imagination. Unfortunately, unlike IA2, Infernal Affairs III doesn’t feel like the film has been made because there were more stories to tell about these interesting characters, but because there was more to be milked from a successful franchise. It’s also, as maybe becoming clear, much too complicated and convoluted.
Despite these significant complaints, there are still things to enjoy about Infernal Affairs III. The main stars are backed up by good performances from the likes of Leon Lai and Kelly Chen, and once everything comes together in the final third, the finale is as tense and exciting as we’ve come to expect from the Infernal Affairs movies. It also carries the same rather bleak atmosphere and this is maintained throughout. While not a complete failure, it just doesn’t really feel like a needed addition to the excellent first two films (by the way it also makes the sum total of absolutely no sense if you haven’t seen the other two). | English | NL | d5a978ecb0e95f7437fa9b8feae7e1af0363f9b75fe42a6f09612ce05855bc61 |
January 22nd 1809 - September 26th 1899
Probably one of the best and least known identities of early Wellington, the Cook Strait and the Marlborough Sounds was James Heberley the first Harbour Pilot for Port Nicholson. Most people know James by and because of his nickname "Jack Worser" and because of the fact that he bequeathed this name to the place in which he lived - Worser Bay. In reality, beyond this well documented fact, his life and standing in the history of early New Zealand are less well known and perhaps more important.
James, it is with the utmost respect that we relate your story.
James was born on January 22nd 1809 at Weymouth, a coastal town in Dorsetshire on the south coast of England. In his diary, James states that his Father, Jacob (or John Jacob) Hebley a German from Witenberg "was taken prisoner by my Grandfather" - James Curtis - "in a Privateer in the year 1790 (and) brought into Weymouth". Jacob married the daughter of his captor, Elizabeth, on January 2nd 1809 and James was their first born son. As such, it seems that he was doted on by his Mother and, in his own words, she "set great store by me, and gave me so much of my own way, and I was a spoilt child".
James Father was a seaman who died in 1817 aboard the brig Nancy. At this time James was eight years old and had been at school for three years. His Fathers death, however, required that he curtail his studies as his Mother "had to go a washing to maintain me and my brothers and sisters". James was sent to live with his "Uncle Smith" who, as well as owning land at Cowes on the Isle of White, was manager of the Estates of Lord Henry Seymor of whom "I was a great favourite".
At the age of eleven years James ran away to sea and had a varied and sometimes rough time of it. In 1826 he arrived in Sydney and became involved in the whaling trade. It was this that brought James to the Bay of Islands in New Zealand in 1827. James was a lad of 18 but he was about to witness his first war and to have his first experience of brutal cannibalism. These experiences are vividly described in James memoirs in such a clinical and unemotional manner that one wonders if, at the time of writing, he had become inured to the extreme violence of his experiences.
In April 1830 James returned to New Zealand for the second time apparently intent on settling at Te Awaiti in the Tory Channel. It was at this time that James met and later married his first wife Maata Te Naihi otherwise known as Te Wai.
It was not long afterwards that he was invited by Colonel Edward Gibbon Wakefield to pilot the ship "Tory" across the Straits to Port Nicholson which had been recommended by those at Te Awaiti as an appropriate place for the New Zealand Company's settlement. Richard "Dicky" Barrett, an acquaintance of James, went as an interpreter. James was appointed Harbour Pilot by Colonel Wakefield and in this capacity it would be his responsibility, with the permission of the Captain, to board ships arriving at the mouth of the harbour and guide them through the Heads and into Port Nicholson.
His appointment did not come with a salary and James was forced to live on the fees (pilotage) he gained from ships captains for his services as pilot in guiding their vessels safely into and out of port. Local Maori, relations says James of his wife, gave him the bay later called Worser's in which to live and helped him build a house there. However his piloting duties were conducted from nearby Tarakena Bay as the official Pilot Station was not built at Worser Bay until 1866, well after James had quit. For whatever reason (James says his "piloting was not sufficient to pay me and a crew"), he left the Heads and came into town to start fishing. This certainly would have provided him with an income and in the season he headed across to the Marlborough Sounds to do some whaling. James was a renown and skilled fisherman and there is a description of his catching barracouta in Jerningham Wakefield's book.
The origin of James nickname of "Worser" seems to be in dispute and at least five possibilities are expressed in David McGill's very good book "The Pioneers of Port Nicholson". The traditional and most often told story is of his use of the term "Worser and Worser" when referring to the state of the weather. However, as Edward Jerningham Wakefield certainly knew him in the 1830's as "'Worser', the whaler" before he took up his piloting duties it seems that James own description of his names origin may probably be correct. The story, related in "The Pioneers of Port Nicholson" speaks of James, when staying with a Maori family while his own house was being built, slept in their food house. On being called for breakfast the next morning the daughter of his host did not know his name and called to him as the "...man of the food house". The delighted tribespeople changed this to "Tangata whata" or "Whata" for short and this was anglicised to "Worser".
James was not only a skilled pilot. He followed Dr Ernest Dieffenbach on a number of expeditions and was the only person to remain with him on his expedition to the top of Mt Egmont. On Christmas Eve 1839, after an unsuccessful first attempt, James reached the peak of Mount Egmont. 20 minutes ahead of Dr Dieffenbach. As such he was the first European to stand on the summit. In other expeditions of exploration he accompanied Dr Dieffenbach and "Deans" on an expedition to find a way over the Tararua Ranges into the Manawatu.
James later life is sketchy and although he was living in the Marlborough Sounds with his wife Te Wai, he seems to have dropped out of "public life". His beloved Te Wai died in June 1877 after almost 50 years together. After this he moved to Picton and it was here in 1879 that he married Charlotte Emily Joyce becoming well known in the community.
James Worser Heberley's health began to deteriorate in the last few months of his life and he became frail and quarrelsome and was considered to be of unsound mind. James drowned in Picton Harbour on Tuesday, September 26th, 1899. The coroners report indicates that he had climbed out of a window (broken by him the previous Friday) and had wandered off, eventually to be caught in the mud at the harbour. He was found about 250 yards from the wharf....floating in an upright position with his stick in his hand. The stick was a walking stick which had been carved by his son Jacob who was a well known carver. The end of this stick is buried with James. In his pockets at the time of his death were, among other things, a pension cheque for £12-10-00, six sovereigns, a one pound note and two pennies, a purse key, a penknife, a matchbox, a receipt for £3-18-7 and a handkerchief.
It seems strange and strangely fitting that the sea that James spent most of his life around and which, in the main, gave him his living eventually took his life. It is said that the adventurous amongst us would not gladly die quietly in bed. James was an adventurer in every sense of the word.
If you are interested in contacting
anyone regarding James Heberley and his ancestors please contact
Sue Crawford or John Hebley
|Copyright:||Denise & Peter 1999 - 2004| | English | NL | c33bb90cfe15e99079b2db33a4a7bbc1878d9ccb0f2116c244528976b3aba8f8 |
Magna Carta (Latin for "Great Charter," literally "Great Paper"), also called Magna Carta Libertatum ("Great Charter of Freedoms"), is an English charter originally issued in 1215. Magna Carta was the most significant early influence on the long historical process that led to the rule of constitutional law today. Magna Carta influenced many common law documents, such as the United States Constitution and Bill of Rights, and is considered one of the most important legal documents in the history of democracy.
Magna Carta was originally created because of disagreements between Pope Innocent III, King John, and his English barons about the rights of the King. Magna Carta required the king to renounce certain rights, respect certain legal procedures and accept that "the will of the king could be bound by law." Many clauses were renewed throughout the Middle Ages, and further during the Tudor and Stuart periods, and the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. By the early nineteenth century, most clauses had been repealed from English law.
There are a number of popular misconceptions about Magna Carta, such as that it was the first document to limit the power of an English king by law (it was not the first, and was partly based on the Charter of Liberties); that it in practice limited the power of the king (it mostly did not in the Middle Ages); and that it is a single static document (it is a variety of documents referred to under a common name). Nonetheless, rights established by the Magna Carta have subsequently become fundamental principles of international human rights and it can be argued that democratic societies developed as a long-term consequence of this charter.
After the Norman conquest of England in 1066 and advances in the twelfth century, the King of England had by 1199 become the most powerful monarch in Europe. This was due to a number of factors, including the authoritarian centralized government created by the Normans on the basis of the already existing efficient Anglo-Saxon institutions. England was a relatively rich and prosperous country and the Normans harnessed those resources for their own purposes. After King John of England was crowned in the early thirteenth century, however, a series of stunning failures on his part led the barons of England to revolt and place checks on the king's power.
A major cause of discontent in the realm were John's actions in France. At the time of King John's accession to the throne after Richard's death, there were no set rules to define the line of succession. John, as Richard's younger brother, was crowned over Richard's nephew, Arthur of Brittany. As Arthur still had a claim over the Anjou empire, however, John needed the approval of the French King, Philip Augustus. To get it, John gave to Philip vast tracts of the French-speaking Anjou territories.
When John later married Isabella of Angoulême, her previous fiancé (Hugh IX of Lusignan, one of John's vassals) appealed to Philip, who then declared forfeit all of John's French lands, including rich Normandy. Philip declared Arthur as the true ruler of the Anjou throne and invaded John's French holdings in mid-1202 to give it to him. John had to act quickly to save face, but his eventual actions did not achieve this—he ended up killing Arthur under suspicious circumstances, thus losing the little support he had from his French barons.
After the defeat of John's allies at the Battle of Bouvines, Philip retained all of John's northern French territories, including Normandy (although the Aquitaine remained in English hands for a time). As a result, John was revealed as a weak military leader, and one who lost to the French a major source of income, neither of which made him popular at home. Worse, to recoup his expenses, John would have to further tax the already unhappy barons.
At the time of John’s reign there was still a great deal of controversy as to how the Archbishop of Canterbury was to be elected, although it had become traditional that the monarch would appoint a candidate with the approval of the monks of Canterbury.
But in the early thirteenth century, the bishops began to want a say. To achieve control, the monks elected one of their number to the role. But John, incensed at his lack of involvement in the proceedings, sent the Bishop of Norwich to Rome as his choice. Pope Innocent III declared both choices as invalid and persuaded the monks to elect Stephen Langton, who in fact was probably the best choice. But John refused to accept this choice and exiled the monks from the realm. Infuriated, Innocent ordered an interdict (prevention of public worship—mass, marriages, the ringing of church bells, etc.) in England in 1208, excommunicated John in 1209, and backed Philip to invade England in 1212.
John finally backed down and agreed to endorse Langton and allow the exiles to return, and to completely placate the pope, he gave England and Ireland as papal territories and rented them back as a fiefdom for 1,000 marks per annum. This further enraged the barons as it meant that they had even less autonomy in their own lands.
Despite all of this, England's government could function without a strong king. The efficient civil service, established by the powerful King Henry II had run England throughout the reign of Richard I. But the government of King John needed money for armies, for during this period of prosperity, mercenary soldiers cost nearly twice as much as before. The loss of the French territories, especially Normandy, greatly reduced the state income and a huge tax would have to be raised in order to attempt to reclaim these territories. Yet it was difficult to raise taxes due to the tradition of keeping them at the same level.
Novel forms of income included a Forest law, a set of regulations about the king’s forest which were easily broken and severely punished. John also increased the pre-existing scutage (feudal payment to an overlord replacing direct military service) eleven times in his seventeen years as king, as compared to eleven times in twice that period covering three monarchs before him. The last two of these increases were double the increase of their predecessors. He also imposed the first income tax which rose, what was at the time, the extortionate sum of £60,000.
By 1215, some of the barons of England banded together and took London by force on June 10, 1215. They and many of the fence-sitting moderates not in overt rebellion forced King John to agree to a document called the "Articles of the Barons," to which his Great Seal was attached in the meadow at Runnymede on June 15, 1215. In return, the barons renewed their oaths of fealty to King John on June 19, 1215. A formal document to record the agreement was created by the royal chancery on July 15: this was the original Magna Carta. An unknown number of copies of it were sent out to officials, such as royal sheriffs and bishops.
The most significant clause for King John at the time was clause 61, known as the "security clause," the longest portion of the document. This established a committee of 25 barons who could at any time meet and over-rule the will of the King, through force by seizing his castles and possessions if needed. This was based on a medieval legal practice known as distraint, which was commonly done, but it was the first time it had been applied to a monarch. In addition, the King was to take an oath of loyalty to the committee.
King John had no intention of honoring Magna Carta, as it was sealed under extortion by force, and clause 61 essentially neutered his power as a monarch, making him King in name only. He renounced it as soon as the barons left London, plunging England into a civil war, called the First Barons' War. Pope Innocent III also annulled the "shameful and demeaning agreement, forced upon the king by violence and fear." He rejected any call for rights, saying it impaired King John's dignity. He saw it as an affront to the Church's authority over the king and released John from his oath to obey it.
John died in the middle of the war, from dysentery, on October 18, 1216, and this quickly changed the nature of the war. His nine-year-old son, Henry III, was next in line for the throne. The royalists believed the rebel barons would find the idea of loyalty to the child Henry more palatable, and so the child was swiftly crowned in late October 1216, and the war ended.
Henry's regents reissued Magna Carta in his name on November 12, 1216, omitting some clauses, such as clause 61, and again in 1217. When he turned 18 in 1225, Henry III himself reissued Magna Carta again, this time in a shorter version with only 37 articles.
Henry III ruled for 56 years (the longest reign of an English Monarch in the Medieval period) so that by the time of his death in 1272, Magna Carta had become a settled part of English legal precedent, and more difficult for a future monarch to annul as King John had attempted nearly three generations earlier.
Henry III's son and heir, Edward I's Parliament reissued Magna Carta for the final time on October 12, 1297 as part of a statute called Confirmatio cartarum (25 Edw. I), reconfirming Henry III's shorter version of Magna Carta from 1225.
The Magna Carta was originally written in Latin. A large part of Magna Carta was copied, nearly word for word, from the Charter of Liberties of Henry I, issued when Henry I ascended to the throne in 1100, which bound the king to certain laws regarding the treatment of church officials and nobles, effectively granting certain civil liberties to the church and the English nobility.
Three clauses of Magna Carta remain in force in current UK law, and can be viewed on the UK Statute Law Database.
Clause 1 of Magna Carta (the original 1215 edition) guarantees the freedom of the English Church. Although this originally meant freedom from the King, later in history it was used for different purposes (see below). Clause 13 guarantees the “ancient liberties” of the city of London. Clause 29 gives a right to due process.
The 1215 edition was annulled in 1216 (see above) but some of the 1297 version is still in force today and preserves the rights listed above.
In 1828 the passing of the first Offences Against the Person Act, was the first time a clause of Magna Carta was repealed, namely Clause 36. With the document's perceived protected status broken, in one hundred and fifty years nearly the whole charter was repealed, leaving just Clauses 1, 13, 29, and 40 still in force after the Statute Law (Repeals) Act was passed in 1969.
These clauses were present in the 1225 charter but are no longer in force, and would have no real place in the post-feudal world. Clauses 2 to 7 refer to the feudal death duties; defining the amounts and what to do if an heir to a fiefdom is underage or is a widow. Clause 23 provides no town or person should be forced to build a bridge across a river. Clause 33 demands the removal of all fish weirs. Clause 43 gives special provision for tax on reverted estates and Clause 44 states that forest law should only apply to those in the King’s forest.
These provisions have no bearing in the world today, as they are feudal rights, and were not even included in the 1225 charter. Clauses 9 to 12, 14 to 16, and 25 to 26 deal with debt and taxes and Clause 27 with intestacy.
The other clauses state that no one may seize land in debt except as a last resort, that underage heirs and widows should not pay interest on inherited loans, that county rents will stay at their ancient amounts and that the crown may only seize the value owed in payment of a debt, that aid (taxes for warfare or other emergency) must be reasonable, and that scutage (literally, shield-payment, payment in lieu of actual military service used to finance warfare) may only be sought with the consent of the kingdom.
These clauses were not present in the 1225 document, but still this led to the first parliament. Clause 14 provided that the common consent of the kingdom was to be sought from a council of the archbishops, bishops, earls and greater Barons. This later became the great council (see below).
These rights were the beginning of English judicial rights. Clauses 17 to 22 allowed for a fixed law court, which became the chancellery, and defines the scope and frequency of county assizes. They also said that fines should be proportionate to the offense, that they should not be influenced by ecclesiastical property in clergy trials, and that people should be tried by their peers. Many think that this gave rise to jury and magistrate trial, but its only manifestation in today’s world is the right of a Lord to trial in the House of Lords at first instance.
Clause 24 states that crown officials (such as sheriffs) may not try a crime in place of a judge. Clause 34 forbids repossession without a writ precipe. Clauses 36 to 38 state that writs for loss of life or limb are to be free, that someone may use reasonable force to secure their own land and that no one can be tried on their own testimony alone.
Clause 54 says that no man may be imprisoned on the testimony of a woman except on the death of her husband.
Clauses 28 to 32 say that no royal officer may take any commodity such as corn, wood, or transport without payment or consent or force a knight to pay for something they could do themselves and that he must return any lands confiscated from a felon within a year and a day.
Clause 25 sets out a list of standard measures and Clauses 41 and 42 guarantee the safety and right of entry and exit of foreign merchants.
Clause 45 says that the king should only appoint royal officers where they are suitable for the post. Clause 46 provides for the guardianship of monasteries.
These provisions were for immediate effect, and were not in any later charter. Clauses 47 and 48 abolish most of Forest Law. Clauses 49, 52 to 53, and 55 to 59 provide for the return of hostages, land, and fines taken in John’s reign.
Article 50 says that no member of the D’Athèe family may be a royal officer. Article 51 provides all foreign knights and mercenaries should leave the realm.
Articles 60, 62, and 63 provide for the application and observation of The Charter and say that The Charter is binding on the Kings and his heirs forever, but this was soon deemed to be dependent on that specific King reaffirming The Charter under his own seal.
The document commonly known as Magna Carta today is not the 1215 charter, but a later charter of 1225, and is usually shown in the form of The Charter of 1297 when it was confirmed by Edward I. At the time of the 1215 charter, many of the provisions were not meant to make long term changes but simply to right the immediate wrongs, and therefore The Charter was reissued three times in the reign of Henry III (1216, 1217, and 1225) in order to provide for an updated version. After this, each individual king for the next two-hundred years (until Henry V in 1416) personally confirmed the 1225 charter in their own charter.
Magna Carta had little effect on the rest of the development of parliament until the Tudor period. Knights and county representatives attended the Great Council (Simon de Montfort’s Parliament), and the council became far more representative under the model parliament of Edward I, which included two knights from each county, two burgesses from each borough, and two citizens from each city. The Commons separated from the Lords in 1341. The right of commons to exclusively sanction taxes (based on a withdrawn provision of Magna Carta) was re-asserted in 1407, although it was not enforced in this period. The power vested in the Great Council by, albeit withdrawn, Clause 14 of Magna Carta became vested in the House of Commons but Magna Carta was all but forgotten for about a century, until the Tudors.
The first long-term constitutional effect arose from Clauses 14 and 61. These clauses permitted a council comprised of the most powerful men in the country, to exist for the benefit of the state rather than in allegiance to the monarch. Members of the council were also allowed to renounce their oath of allegiance to the king in pressing circumstances and to pledge allegiance to the council and not to the king in certain instances. The common council was responsible for taxation and, although it was not representative, its members were bound by decisions made in their absence. The common council, later called the Great Council, was England's proto-parliament.
The Great Council only existed to give input and opinions on the kingdom as a whole, and only had power in relation to scutage until 1258, when Henry III got into debt fighting in Sicily for the pope. The Barons agreed to a tax in return for reform, leading to the Provisions of Oxford. But Henry got a papal bull allowing him to set aside the provisions and in 1262 told royal officers to ignore the provisions and only to obey Magna Carta. The Barons revolted and seized the Tower of London, the cinque ports and Gloucester. Initially the king surrendered, but when Louis IX (of France) arbitrated in favor of Henry, Henry crushed the rebellion. Later he ceded somewhat, passing the Statute of Marlborough in 1267, which allowed writs for breaches of Magna Carta to be free of charge, enabling anyone to have standing to apply the charter.
This secured the position of the council forever, but its powers were still very limited. The council originally only met three times a year, when the king wore his crown, and so was subservient to the king’s council, Curiae Regis, who, unlike the Great Council, followed the king wherever he went.
Still, in some senses the council was an early form of parliament. It had the power to meet outside the authority of the king, and was not appointed by him. Whilst modern government descends from the Curiae Regis, parliament descends from the Great Council, which was later called the parliamentum. Still, the council was very different from modern parliament. There were no knights, let alone commons, and it was composed of the most powerful men, rather than elected.
Although it was the first entry on the statute books, Magna Carta was not mentioned after 1472 for nearly 100 years. There was much ignorance about the document even by those who wrote about the period. The few who did know about the document spoke of a good king being forced by an unstable pope and rebellious Barons “to attaine the shadow of seeming liberties” and that it was a product of a wrongful rebellion against the one true authority, the king. The original Magna Carta was seen as an ancient document with shadowy origins which had no bearing on the Tudor world. Shakespeare’s King John makes no mention of The Charter at all, but focuses on the murder of Arthur. The Charter in the statute books was thought to arise from the reign of Henry III.
This statute was used widely in the reign of Henry VIII, but it seems that it was seen as any other statute which could be amended and removed. But later in the reign, the Lord Treasurer stated in the Star Chamber that many had lost their lives in the Baronial wars fighting for the liberties, which were guaranteed by The Charter, and therefore it should not so easily be overlooked as a simple and regular statute.
The church often attempted to invoke the first clause of The Charter to protect itself from the attacks by Henry, but this claim was given no credence. Francis Bacon was the first to try to use Clause 39 to guarantee due process in a trial.
Although the early Tudor period saw a re-awaking of the use of Magna Carta in the common law, it was not seen, as it was later, as an entrenched set of liberties guaranteed for the people against The Crown and Government. Rather, it was a normal statute which gave a certain level of liberties, most of which could not be relied on, least of all against the King. Therefore The Charter had little effect on the governance of the early Tudor period. Although lay parliament evolved from The Charter, by this stage the powers of the institution had gone far beyond those humble beginnings under its own volition. The Charter had no real effect until the Elizabethan age.
In the Elizabethan age, England was becoming the most powerful force in Europe and so pride became a primary force in academia. Thus, attempts were made to prove that Parliament had Roman origins. This futile search was undertaken with great earnest. The events at Runnymede were re-discovered in 1215, allowing a possibility to show the antiquity of Parliament, and Magna Carta became synonymous with the idea of an ancient house with origins in Roman government.
The Charter was rightfully interpreted as an attempt to return to a pre-Norman state of things. The Tudors saw it as proof that the state of governance had existed since time immemorial and the Normans had been a brief break from this liberty and democracy. This is disputed in certain circles, but explains how Magna Carta came to be regarded as such an important document.
Magna Carta again occupied the forefront of legal thought, and it again became possible for it to shape the way that government was run. Soon the Charter was seen as an immutable entity. In the trial of Arthur Hall for questioning the antiquity of the house, one of his alleged crimes was an attack on Magna Carta.
One of the first respected jurists to write seriously about the great charter was Edward Coke (1552-1634), who had a great deal to say on the subject and was hugely influential in the way Magna Carta was perceived throughout the Tudor and Stuart periods, although his opinions changed across time and his writing in the Stuart period was more influential; that will be discussed below. In the Elizabethan period Coke wrote of Parliament evolving alongside the monarchy and not existing due to any allowance on the part of the monarch. However he was still fiercely loyal to Elizabeth and the monarchy still judged The Charter in the same light it always had, an evil document forced out of their forefathers by brute force, therefore he suppressed a re-affirmation of The Charter from passing the house and although he spoke highly of The Charter he did not speak out against imprisonments without due process; actions which came back to haunt later when he moved for a reaffirmation of The Charter himself.
It does not seems strange that Coke’s opinions were so confused however, as the times were confused about how to treat The Charter; the Petition of Right in 1628 was meant as a reaffirmation of The Charter, but was defeated by the Attorney General as he stated that the petition claimed it was a mere codification of existing law stemming for Magna Carta, but that there was no precedent shown as to these laws existing in such as a way as they bound the present king; there was a definite feeling that the king could not be bound by law and therefore Clause 39 and all others did not apply to him. The Charter was seen as important as a statement as to the antiquity of Parliament; not, as could rightfully be claimed, because it was the catalyst to the genesis of Parliament but instead of Parliament being pre-Norman (again, this latter point is disputed by certain critics). It was seen to an extent as entrenched law due to this as no one would dare refute it, but it most certainly was not seen as binding on the king; it would need the Stuart period before anyone would dare suggest such a thing.
By the time of the Stuarts, Magna Carta had attained an almost mystical status for its admirers and was seen as representing a "golden age" of English liberties extant prior to the Norman invasion. Whether or not this "golden age" ever truly existed is open to debate; regardless, proponents of its application to English law saw themselves as leading England back to a pre-Norman state of affairs. What is true, however, is this age existed in the hearts and minds of the people of the time. Magna Carta was not important because of the liberties it bestowed, but simply as "proof" of what had come before; many great minds influentially exalted The Charter; by the seventeenth century Coke was talking of The Charter as an indispensable method of limiting the powers of the Crown, a topic very much subscribed to in the Stuart period, where the kings were preaching about their divine right and were looking, to the mind of their subjects at least, to become absolute monarchs (and who would indeed openly attempt to return England to Catholicism).
It was not the content of The Charter which has made it so important in the history of England, but far more how it has been perceived in the popular mind. This is something which certainly started in the Stuart period, as The Charter represented many things which are not to be found in The Charter itself, firstly that it could be used to claim liberties against the Government in general rather than just the Crown and the officers of the crown as discussed above, secondly that it represented that the laws and liberties of England, specifically Parliament, dated back to a time immemorial and thirdly, that it was not only just, but right, to usurp a King who disobeyed the law.
For the last of these reasons Magna Carta began to represent a danger to the Monarchy; Elizabeth ordered that Coke stop a bill from going through Parliament, which would have reaffirmed the validity of The Charter and Charles I and ordered the suppression of a book which Coke intended to write on Magna Carta. But the powers of Parliament by this stage were growing, and on Coke’s death they ordered his house to be searched and the manuscripts were recovered and the book was published in 1642 (at the end of Charles I's Eleven Years Tyranny). The Parliament began to see Magna Carta as its best way of claiming supremacy over the crown, and began to preach that they were the sworn defenders of the liberties fundamental and immemorial which were to be found in The Charter.
In the four centuries since The Charter had originally catered for their creation, Parliament’s power had increased greatly from their original level where they existed only for the purpose that the king had to seek their permission in order to raise scutage. Now they were the only body allowed to raise tax, a right, which although descended from the 1215 Great Charter, was no longer guaranteed by it, as it was removed from the 1225 edition. Parliament had now gotten so powerful that The Charter was at that time being used for two purposes: With Parliament as a new organ of the Crown, it was used by those wishing to limit Parliament’s power, and as a set of principles Parliament was sworn to defend against the King by those wishing to rival the power of the king with Parliament’s power. When it became obvious that people wished to limit the power of Parliament by claiming it to be tantamount to the crown, Parliament claimed they had the sole right of interpretation of The Charter.
This was a hugely important step. For the first time Parliament was claiming itself as a body above the law; whereas one of the fundamental principles in English law was that all were held by the law; Parliament, the monarch, and the church, albeit to very different extents. Parliament here were claiming exactly what Magna Carta wanted to prevent the King from claiming, a claim of not being subject to any higher form of power. This was not claimed until ten years after the death of Lord Coke, but he most certainly would not have agreed with this, as he claimed in the English Constitution, the law was supreme and all bodies of government were subservient to the supreme law; the common law, embodied in The Great Charter.
These early discussions of Parliament sovereignty seemed to only involve The Charter as the entrenched law, and the discussions were simply about whether or not Parliament had enough power to repeal the document or not. This debate was not as important as it may seem, for although it was important for Parliament to be able to claim a great deal of power, as they could foresee that war was brewing and that very soon they would have to claim themselves as more powerful than the King himself, this very provision was provided for by The Charter itself. Clause 61 of The Charter enables people to swear allegiance to what became the Great Council and later Parliament and therefore to renounce allegiance to the King. Moreover, Clause 61 allowed for the seizing of the kingdom by the body which was later to become Parliament if Magna Carta was not respected by the King or Lord Chief Justice. In which case, there was no need to show any novel level of power in order to overthrow the King; it had already been set out in Magna Carta nearly half a millennium before hand. However, Parliament was not simply seeking a justification to overthrow the monarch, they were seeking to establish themselves as the true and sovereign government of the United Kingdom, and for this they needed to show that they could overrule Magna Carta. However Parliament was not ready to repeal The Charter yet, as they would need it in order to war against the King, and, in fact, was cited as the reason why ship-money was illegal, which was the first time Parliament overruled the king; the start of the rebellion.
Further proof of the significance of Magna Carta is shown in the trial of Archbishop Laud in 1645. Laud was tried with attempting to subvert the laws of England, including writing a condemnation of Magna Carta claiming that as the Charter came about due to rebellion, it was not valid, a widely held opinion less than a century before; when the "true" Magna Carta was thought to be the 1225 edition and the 1215 edition was overlooked for this very reason. However Laud was not trying to say that Magna Carta was evil, merely stating the truth about its origins, as he used the document in his defense. He claimed his trial was against the right of the freedom of the church (as the Bishops were voted out of Parliament in order to allow for parliamentary condemnation of him) and, rightfully, that he was not given the benefit of due process contrary to Clauses 1 and 39 of The Charter. By this stage Magna Carta had passed a great distance beyond the original intentions for the document, and the Great Council had evolved beyond a body merely ensuing the application of The Charter. It had gotten to the stage where the Great Council or Parliament was inseparable from the ideas of the Crown as described in The Charter and therefore it was not just the King that was potentially bound by The Charter, but Parliament also.
After 7 years of civil war, the King surrendered and was executed; it seemed Magna Carta no longer applied, as there was no King. Oliver Cromwell was accused of destroying Magna Carta and many thought he should be crowned just so that it would apply. Cromwell himself had much disdain for the Magna Carta, at one point describing it as "Magna Farta" to a defendant who sought to rely on it.
In this time of foment, there were many theorists who were enjoining the revolutionary atmosphere of the age, and many based their theories, at least initially on Magna Carta in the misguided belief that Magna Carta guaranteed liberty and equality for all.
The Levellers believed that all should be equal and free without distinction of class or status. They believed that Magna Carta was the "political bible," which should be prized above any other law and that it could not be repealed. They prized it so highly that they believed all (such as Archbishop Laud) who “trod Magna Carta … under their feet” deserved to be attacked at all levels. The original idea was to achieve this through Parliament but there was little support, because at the time the Parliament was seeking to paint itself as above Magna Carta. The Levellers claimed Magna Carta was above any branch of government, and this led to the upper echelons of the Leveller movement denouncing Parliament. They claimed that Parliament’s primary purpose was not to rule the people directly but to protect the people from the extremes of the King and that this was adequately done by Magna Carta and therefore Parliament should be subservient to it.
After the Civil War, Cromwell refused to support the Levellers and was denounced as a traitor to Magna Carta. The importance of Magna Carta was greatly magnified in the eyes of the Levellers, and Lilburne, one of the leaders of the movement, was known for his great advocacy of The Charter and was often known to explain its purpose to lay people and to expose the misspeaking against it in the popular press of the time. He was quoted as saying, "the ground and foundation of my freedome I build upon the grand charter of England." However as it became apparent that Magna Carta did not grant anywhere near the level of liberty demanded by the Levellers, the movement reduced its advocacy of it.
Welwyn, another leader of the movement, advocated natural law and other doctrines as the primary principles of the movement. This was mainly because the obvious intention of Magna Carta was to grant rights only to the Barons and the episcopacy, and not the general and equal rights the Levellers were claiming. Also influential, however, was Spelman’s rediscovery of the existence of the feudal system at the time of Magna Carta, which seemed to have less and less effect on the world of the time. The only right which the Levellers could trace back to 1215, possibly prized over all others, was the right to due process granted by Clause 39. One thing the Levellers did agree on with the popular beliefs of the time was that Magna Carta was an attempt to return to the (disputed) pre-Norman "golden age."
However, not all such groups advocated Magna Carta. The Diggers were a very early socialistic group who called for all land to be available to all for farming and the like. Winstanley, the leader of the group, despised Magna Carta as a show of the hypocrisy of the post-Norman law, as Parliament and the courts advocated Magna Carta and yet did not even follow it themselves. The Diggers did, however, believe in the pre-Norman golden age and also wished to return to it and called for the abolition of all Norman and post-Norman law.
The Commonwealth was relatively short lived however, and when Charles II took the throne in 1660 the struggle between the Monarchy and Parliament died down as both roles were clearly defined for the time being; Parliament was established as the everyday government of Britain independent of, but not more powerful than, the King. However, the struggles based on The Charter were far from over but now took on the form of the struggle for supremacy between the Houses of Parliament. Also in 1660, Charles II vowed to respect both the common law and The Charter; it seems that the influence of Magna Carta would, for now, fall on the houses.
In 1664 the British navy seized Dutch lands in both Africa and America, leading to full-scale war with Holland in 1665. The Lord Chancellor, Edward Lord Clarendon, resisted an alliance with the Spanish and Swedes in favor of maintaining a relationship with the French, who were unfortunately also the allies of the Dutch. This lack of any real policy led to the Second Anglo-Dutch War (1665-67), with the Dutch burning a number of ships in the docks at Chatham, and the blame was placed on the shoulders of Clarendon. The Commons demanded that Clarendon be indicted before the Lords, but the Lords refused, citing the due process requirements of The Charter giving Clarendon the time to escape to Europe.
A very similar set of events followed in 1678, when the Commons asked the Lords to indict Thomas Lord Danby on a charge of fraternizing with the French. As with Clarendon, the Lords refused, again citing Magna Carta and their own supremacy as the upper house. Before the quarrel could be resolved Charles dissolved the Parliament. When Parliament was re-seated in 1681, again the Commons attempted to force an indictment in the Lords. This time Edward Fitzharris who was accused of writing libelously that the King was involved in a papist plot with the French (including the overthrowing of Magna Carta). However, the Lords doubted the veracity of the claim and refused to try Fitzharris, saying Magna Carta stated that everyone must be subject to due process and therefore he must be tried in a lower court first. This time the Commons retorted that it was the Lords who were denying justice under Clause 39, and that it was the Commons who were right to cite The Charter as their precedent. Again, before any true conclusions could be drawn, Charles dissolved the Parliament, although more to serve his own ends and to rid himself of a predominantly Whig Parliament, and Fitzharris was tried in a regular court (the King’s Bench) and executed for treason. Here The Charter, once again, was used far beyond the content of its provisions, and simply being used as a representation of justice. Here both houses were struggling for supremacy in a state which was now open for the taking. Each house was claiming its supremacy was supported by The Charter under Clause 39, but the power of the King was still too great for either house to come out fully as the more powerful.
The squabble also continued outside the Palace of Westminster. In 1667 the Lord Chief Justice and important member of the House of Lords, Lord Keating, forced a grand Jury of Middlesex to return a verdict of murder when they wanted to return one of manslaughter. However, his biggest crime was that, when they objected on the grounds of Magna Carta, he scoffed and exclaimed “Magna Carta, what ado with this have we?” The Commons were incensed at this abuse of The Charter and accused him of “endangering the liberties of the people.” However, the Lords claimed he was just referring to the inappropriateness of The Charter in this context, although Keating apologized anyway. In 1681, the next Lord Chief Justice, Lord Scroggs, was condemned by the Commons first for being too severe in the so-called "papist plot trials" and second for dismissing another Middlesex grand jury in order to secure against the indictment of the Duke of York, the Catholic younger brother of the King later to become James II. Charles again dissolved Parliament before the Commons could impeach Scroggs and removed him from office on a good pension. Once again, just as it seemed that the Commons might be able to impose their supremacy over the Lords, the King intervened and proved he was still the most powerful force in the government. However, it was certainly beginning to become established that the Commons were the most powerful branch of Government, and they used The Charter as much as they could in order to achieve this end.
This was not the end of the struggle however, and in 1679 the Commons passed the Habeas Corpus Act of 1679, which greatly reduced the powers of the Crown and almost certainly established the Commons as the more powerful house. The act passed through the Lords by a small majority, almost as an acquiescence of the Commons being more powerful. This was the first time since the magnification of the importance of The Charter that the Government had admitted that the liberties granted by The Charter were inadequate. However, this did not completely oust the position of The Charter as an entrenched symbol of the law of the "golden age" and the basis of common law. It did not take long, however, before the questioning of The Charter really took off and Sir Matthew Hale soon afterwards introduced a new doctrine of common law based on the principle that the Crown (including the cabinet in that definition) made all law and could only be bound by the law of God, and showed that the 1215 charter was effectively overruled by the 1225 charter, which made any claims of entrenchment very difficult to back up. This added further credence to the principle that the Commons were a supreme branch of Government. Some completely denied the relevance of the 1215 Charter, as it was forced upon the king by rebellion (although no one seemed to worry that the 1225 charter was forced on a boy by his guardians) or that The Charter was nothing more than a relaxation of the rigid feudal laws and therefore had no meaning outside of this application.
The danger posed by the fact Charles II had no heir was becoming more and more real; as this meant that the heir apparent was the Duke of York, a Catholic and firm believer in the divine right of kings. This could well mean that all the Commons' work establishing itself as the most powerful arm of government could all too soon be undone. Parliament did all it could to prevent James’ succession but was prevented when Charles dissolved the Parliament, and danger realized itself in February 1685, when Charles died of a stroke and James II assumed the throne of the United Kingdom.
Almost straight away James attempted to impose Catholicism as the religion of the country and to regain the royal prerogative now vested in the Parliament. All this was bad enough, but Parliament was slightly placated when James’ four-year-old son died in 1677 and it seemed his Protestant daughter Mary would take his throne. However when James' second wife, Mary of Modena, gave birth to a male heir in 1688, Parliament could not take the risk that this would be another Catholic monarch that would assume the throne and take away their power. In 1688, the Convention Parliament declared that James had broken the contract of Magna Carta and nullified his claim to the throne. This once and for all proved that Parliament was the major power in the British Government; Mary, James II's eldest daughter was invited to take the throne with her husband William of Orange. Many thought that, with bringing in a new monarch, it would be prudent to define what powers this monarch should have; hence, the Bill of Rights. The
Bill of Rights went far beyond what the Magna Carta had ever achieved. It stated that the crown could not make law without Parliament and although specifically mentioned the raising of taxes, did not limit itself to such, as Magna Carta did. However, one important thing to note is that the writers of the bill did not seem to think that included any new provisions of law; all the powers it "removes" from the crown it refers to as "pretended" powers, insinuating that the rights of Parliament listed in the Bill already existed under a different authority, which one assumes is Magna Carta. Therefore the importance of Magna Carta did not extinguish at this point if, albeit it diminished somewhat.
The myth of Magna Carta continued into the eighteenth century; in 1700 Samuel Johnson talked of Magna Carta being “born with a grey beard” referring to the belief that the liberties set out in The Charter harked back to the Golden Age and the time immemorial. However, ideas about the nature of law in general were beginning to change; in 1716 the Septennial Act was passed, which had a number of consequences; firstly is showed that Parliament no longer considered its previous statutes entrenched, as this act provided that the parliamentary term was to be seven years, whereas less than twenty-five years beforehand they had passed the Triennial Act (1694) which provided a parliamentary term was to be three years. Not only this, but it greatly extended the powers of Parliament as before all legislation passed in a parliamentary session was listed in the election manifesto, so effectively, the electorate was consulted on all issues which were to be brought before Parliament. With a seven-year term, however, it was unlikely, if not impossible, that even half the legislation passed would be discussed at the election. This effectively gave Parliament the power to legislate as it liked, but not in the same way as Parliamentary sovereignty is practiced today, as Parliament still considered itself held by the higher law, such as Magna Carta, it just now felt it could overrule its own statutes. Arguments for Parliamentary sovereignty were not new, however, and even the proponents of it would not have expected Parliament to be as powerful as it is today. For example, in the century beforehand, Coke had discussed how Parliament may well have the power to repeal the common law and Magna Carta, but they were, in practice, prohibited from doing such, as the common law and Magna Carta were so important in the constitution that it would be dangerous to the continuing existence of the constitution to repeal them to any extent.
In 1722, the Bishop of Rochester (Francis Atterbury, a Stuart Jacobite), who sat at the Lords was accused of treason; in response, the Commons brought a bill intending to remove him from his post and send him into exile; and meanwhile locked him in the Tower of London. This, once again, brought up the subject of which was the more powerful house, and exactly how far that power went, as the Atterbury claimed, and many agreed, that the Commons had no dominion over the Lords. Although many influential people disagreed; the Bishop of Salisbury (also seated in the Lords), for example, was of the strong opinion that the powers of Parliament, mainly vested in the Commons, were sovereign and unlimited and therefore there could be no such thing as entrenched law and no limit on these powers at all, including the freedom of the upper house from the dominion of the lower. Many intellectuals also agreed; Jonathan Swift, for example, went as far to say that Parliament’s powers extended so far as to be able to alter or repeal Magna Carta; a claim which would still have caused many a room to fall silent.
This argument incensed the Tories and Bolingbroke spoke of the day when "liberty is restored and the radiant volume of Magna Carta is returned to its former position of Glory," and he advocated the age-old beliefs of the immemorial Parliament. This belief was anchored in the relatively new theory that when William the Conqueror invaded England, he only conquered the throne, not the land, and he therefore assumed the same position in law as the Saxon rulers before him; The Charter was a recapitulation or codification of these laws rather than, as previously believed, an attempt to reinstate these laws after the tyrannical Norman Kings. Therefore, these rights had existed constantly from the "golden age immemorial" and could never be removed by any government. This belief was still widely subscribed to, although some level of sovereignty had been established, it was not what one would recognize as sovereignty today. The Whigs, on the other hand, claimed, rightfully, that The Charter only benefited the Nobility and the Church and granted no wehere near the liberty they had come to expect. So although they attacked the content of The Charter, they did not actually attack the myth of the "golden age" or attempt to say that The Charter could be repealed, and the myth remained as immutable as ever.
The influence of Magna Carta can be clearly seen in the United States Bill of Rights, which enumerates various rights of the people and restrictions on government power, such as:
No person shall be … deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.
Article 21 from the Declaration of Rights in the Maryland Constitution of 1776 reads:
That no freeman ought to be taken, or imprisoned, or disseized of his freehold, liberties, or privileges, or outlawed, or exiled, or in any manner destroyed, or deprived of his life, liberty, or property, but by the judgment of his peers, or by the law of the land.
The doctrine of parliamentary supremacy, if not parliamentary sovereignty, had all but emerged by the regency; William Blackstone argued strongly for sovereignty in his Commentaries on the English Law in 1765. He essentially argued that absolute supremacy must exist in one of the arms of Government and he certainly thought it resided in Parliament, as Parliament could legislate on anything and potentially could even legislate the impossible as valid law, if not practical policy. The debate over whether or not Parliament could limit or overrule the supposed rights granted by Magna Carta was to prove to be the basis for the discussion over parliamentary sovereignty, however Blackstone preached that Parliament should respect Magna Carta as a show of law from time immemorial and the other great legal mind of the time, Jeremy Bentham used The Charter to attack the legal abuses of his time.
One of the principal reformists was Granville Sharp. He was a philanthropist who supported, among other causes, the Society for the Abolition of Slavery and the Society for the Conversion of the Jews. Sharp called for the reform of Parliament based on Magna Carta, and to back this up he devised the doctrine of accumulative authority. This doctrine stated that because almost innumerable parliaments had approved Magna Carta it would take the same number of Parliaments to repeal it. Like many others, Sharp accepted the supremacy of Parliament as an institution, but did not believe that this power was without restraint, namely that Parliament could not repeal Magna Carta. Many reformists agreed that The Charter was a statement of the liberties of the mythical and immemorial golden age, but there was a popular movement to have a holiday to commemorate the signing of The Charter, in a similar way to the American 4th of July holiday; however, very few went as far as Sharp.
Although there was a popular movement to resist the sovereignty of Parliament based on The Charter, a great number of people still thought that The Charter was over-rated. Cartwright pointed out in 1774 that Magna Carta could not possibly have existed unless there was a firm constitution beforehand to facilitate its use. He went even further later, and claimed that The Charter was not even part of the constitution but merely a codification of what the constitution was at the time. Cartwright suggested that there should be a new Magna Carta based on equality and rights for all, not just for landed persons.
There were, though, certain provisions, such as Clauses 23 and 39, which were not only still valid then, but still form the basis of important rights in the present English law. Undeniably, though, the importance of Magna Carta was diminishing and the arguments for having a fully sovereign Parliament were increasingly accepted. Many in the House still supported The Charter, such as Sir Francis Burdett, who in 1809 called for a return to the constitution of Magna Carta and denounced the house for taking proceedings against the radical John Gale Jones, who had denounced the house for acting in contravention of Magna Carta. Burdett was largely ignored, as by this stage Magna Carta had largely lost its appeal, but he continued, claiming that the Long Parliament (1640-60) had usurped all the power then enjoyed by the Parliament of the time. He stated that Parliament was constantly contravening Magna Carta (although he was referring to its judicial, not legislative, practice) which it did not have the right to do. He received popular support and there were riots across London when he was arrested for these claims. Again, a popular print circulated of him being arrested while teaching his son about Magna Carta.
The major breakthrough occurred in 1828 with the passing of the first Offences Against the Person Act, which for the first time repealed a clause of Magna Carta, namely Clause 36. With the myth broken, in one hundred and fifty years nearly the whole charter was repealed, leaving just Clauses 1, 13, 39, and 63 still in force today after the Statute Laws (Repeals) Act was passed (although interestingly, at the same time as the moon landings, possibly to distract the public from the repealing The Charter).
With the popular movements being in favor of the liberties of The Charter, and Parliament trying to establish their own sovereignty, there needed to be some sort of action in order to swing the balance in favor of one or the other. However all that occurred was the Reform Act 1832, which was such a compromise that it ended up pleasing no one. Due to their disappointment in the Reform Act 1832, a group was founded calling itself the Chartists; they called for a return to the constitution of Magna Carta and eventually culminated in a codification of what they saw as the existing rights of the People; the People's Charter. At a rally for the Chartists in 1838, the Reverend Raynor demanded a return to the constitution of The Charter; freedom of speech, worship, and congress. This is a perfect example of how the idea of Charter went so far beyond the actual content of The Charter, it depicted for many people the idea of total liberty, whereas the actual liberties granted by The Charter were very limited and not at all intended to be applied equally. It was this over-exaggeration of The Charter that eventually led to its downfall. The more people expected to get from The Charter, the less Parliament was willing to attempt to cater to this expectation, and eventually writers such as Tom Paine refuted the claims of those such as the Chartists. This meant that the educated were no longer supporting any of these claims, and therefore the myth gradually faded into obscurity, and the final claim against sovereignty of Parliament was erased, and the road was open for establishing this doctrine.
Many later attempts to draft constitutional forms of government, including the United States Constitution, trace their lineage back to this source document. The United States Supreme Court has explicitly referenced Lord Coke's analysis of Magna Carta as an antecedent of the Sixth Amendment's guarantee of a speedy trial.
Magna Carta contained two articles related to money lending and Jews in England. Jewish involvement with money lending caused Christian resentment, because the Church forbade the lending of money at interest (known at the time as usury); it was seen as vice (such as gambling, an un-Christian way to profit at others' expense) and was punishable by excommunication. However, Jews, as non-Christians, could not be excommunicated and were thus in a legal gray area. Secular leaders, unlike the Church, tolerated the practice of Jewish usury because it gave the leaders opportunity for personal enrichment. This resulted in a complicated legal situation: Debtors were frequently trying to bring their Jewish creditors before Church courts, where debts would be absolved as illegal, while the Jews were trying to get their debtors tried in secular courts, where they would be able to collect plus interest. The relations between the debtors and creditors would often become very nasty. There were many attempts over centuries to resolve this problem, and Magna Carta contains one example of the legal code of the time on this issue:
After the Pope annulled Magna Carta, future versions contained no mention of Jews. Jews were seen by the Church as a threat to their authority, and the welfare of Christians, because of their special relationship to Kings as moneylenders. "Jews are the sponges of kings," wrote the theologian William de Montibus, "they are bloodsuckers of Christian purses, by whose robbery kings dispoil and deprive poor men of their goods." Thus the anti-semitic wording as seen in Magna Carta originated in part because of Christian nobles who permitted the otherwise illegal activity of usury, a symptom of the larger ongoing power struggle between Church and State during the Middle Ages.
Numerous copies were made each time it was issued, so all of the participants would each have one—in the case of the 1215 copy, one for the royal archives, one for the Cinque Ports, and one for each of the then 40 counties. Several of those still exist and some are on permanent display. If there ever was one single master copy, or original version, of Magna Carta sealed by King John in 1215, it has not survived. Four contemporaneous copies (known as "exemplifications") remain, all of which are located in the UK: One in the British Library, one in the House of Commons, one in Lincolm Cathedral and one in Salisbury Cathedral.
Thirteen other versions of Magna Carta dating to 1297 or earlier survive, including four from 1297. Durham Cathedral possesses 1216, 1217, and 1225 copies.
All links retrieved August 7, 2018.
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Dear Lil Guy (as we have affectionately called you in our home), how do we say good-bye to you? In these last 8 months and 1 day, you were a part of our lives as we were a part of yours. You were part of our family. You came to us as a 4 lb 9 oz baby with all kinds of labels placed on you and you leave us as a 20 lb baby with so much happiness. When you came to us, you entered a home not only of love but of prayer. Every night I, your foster dad, placed my hand upon you and prayed for God’s grace, wisdom, love, and protection to cover you. We believed you were a miracle from God.
People have told us that you were lucky to have been received into our home and cared for by us. But I’ve come to think that we were the lucky ones. You were such a blessing to our lives. You brought joy and warmth into our home. You reminded me of the simple and significant value of laughter. You taught me new perspectives on grace and redemption as we watched you heal. Everyday we watched you grow. As you grew in every way, we knew you were triumphing over the odds you faced. You reminded me of the meaning of perseverance. You represented hope to us. You had so much joy in you. You touched other people around you with your infectious smiles and laughs. We will miss you dearly. We were the lucky ones because of you.
Though your time with us was short, we are privileged to be part of your story at the beginning of your life and we are humbled that you were a part of ours. You do not leave us without many tears coming from us. We will never forget you. Though you may not have memories of us, we hope the love, prayers and hope we poured into you will leave a permanent mark upon your soul. We are glad to have been given this opportunity to love you. As you leave us, I hope you know that we are so proud of you. You have already done so well in life. You keep doing what you’re doing.
As you continue your journey in life, know that there’s no trial too big for you to handle if God is at your side. Keep him close. He loves you more than you can possibly imagine and he desires to be near you. Seek wisdom, understand faith, discover the meaning of grace and above all know the reality of love – both in receiving love and in giving it. And remember that true love often has to come and be given with sacrifice. Wherever you are, you will remain in our prayers.
We love you from the bottom of our hearts. We’ll miss you. We are so very proud of you.
Your foster Mom and Dad,
Brian and Ellen Chan
(This letter was included in the end of Lil Guy’s two volume “Lifebook,” an album of photos and words of encouragement that Ellen and I put together, which gets sent with him. The court ruled today on reunification. My wife and I have been balling our eyes out today. It’s incredible how significant and meaningful 8 months and 1 day can be – not only to the child but also to us). | English | NL | 065f91692a031147ae4c0cc8c54d915ad9b7f40881fe361ef298512750a070a2 |
Wednesday 14th July - Time: 7.30pm - Sand Hutton
A talk by some of our local residents who have seen the villages from being a children, growing up and working in the area.
Despite the miserable weather there was a large turn out to listen to members of our village’s reminisce of things that happened to them over the years in Claxton & Sand Hutton.
We were treated to a wealth of information from our guest speakers:
Jenny Whiteley -
Brian & Dot Mills - Alan Kerridge
Dot gave a potted history of her life in Claxton and while she was at school. Alan remarkably gave details of virtually everybody who lived in Sand Hutton and his escapadesat school. This was followed by Brian who turned his hand to many things over the years including re-building the well back in the 70’s to make it safe. While they were at it they put in a time capsule including tapes of Sand Hutton School children singing, coins of the time, Evening Press’s plus numerous items that hopefully people will find in the future.
Jenny gave a potted history of her life and told us a remarkable story of how she only started serious farming when she was 40. There were tales from the foreign farm workers that they had which ended up polluting the Claxton Pond, also to them being the first people in the district to have a combined harvester whereby considerable crowds gathered to watch this new machine.
One of the most amusing stories (& there were many) that came out that evening was
that when Alan was at Siskinson Farm he asked one of the electricity workers who was erecting the pylons at the time to climb the pylon and take a photograph of the farm, he did it for £1. At the
time Edward Wicks was with him and Edward thought that this was a good idea and went and got his camera and asked the pylon man if he paid a pound would he do the same for him as his farm was in the
background, no problem said the climber. So off he climbed to the top of the pylon to take the photo. When he descended he took the pound and handed over the camera, Edward to his dismay had
forgotten to put a film in!!! | English | NL | 27cffb99d2a5567ad2ae3ee2e00c0e21915681fd793eda12128ad9b1a6db99a8 |
I have uncovered and documented a number of Thatcham (including Cold Ash, Ashmore Green, Colthrop and Crookham) pubs, a few though still remain elusive. This post will name some of those that I have little for. This is a very brief summary of some of the pubs, I make a few assumptions and I have a lot more work to do to uncover the truth behind many of these.
The Turk's Head
This appears in newspapers from 1838 to 1840 and appears to be kept by Mr Tuggy. In 1841 Mr Tuggy is living in New Town so could this be the same pub as the Black Horse?
The Bell and The King's Arms
A plot known as "le Belle" was in 1476 situated at the east end of West Street. This is today the High Street so would be somewhere in the area of the White Hart. It is not know if it was a pub at that time but certainly was when Robert Humphreys was fined in 1616 and also Robert Taylor of The King's Arms. It is believed that the King's Arms was extensively renovated or demolished and became the King's Head, but this is just an assumption. There is a legal case in 1690 mentioning the Bell. But after this in 1772 there is mention of land formerly belonging to the Bell and no mention of the pub.
The Bull is mentioned in 1617 and alongside the Bell in 1619. It was then in the hands of Richard Bushnell. One local historian has noted this specifically as an "Ale house".
A tenement is names as the Sign of the George in 1594, presumably an Inn at this time although unconfirmed. It is last mentioned in 1667 but between these dates there are deaths at the George, one of a man traveling from London on the highway. Presumably this places the George on the Great West Road (A4).
There are a number of what I assume are beer houses dotted around. One is noted as being in Chapel Street in 1869 under Mrs Mary Harris who was also a baker. This "nameless" beerhouse as the papers record it was then transferred to various people and at present is last seen in 1874.
There are dozens of other pubs I am still researching. For example I know there was a pub on the west side of the Broadway but finding details is difficult. However this might be connected, i.e. the tap room, of Broad Street Brewery which was present in the 1860's. | English | NL | c43d793c7264e7079b8314d2794fc8817c639c64118117471bd01d5b8267a399 |
Freya - Pencil and white pastel on toned paper.
Freya, the Norse goddess of love and beauty. She was always getting kidnapped or demanded as a bride (sort of like the Norse version of Princess Peach). Freya and her brother, Freyr, were two of the Vanir hostages sent to Asgard after the Aesir/Vanir war.
She owned a legendary necklace, the Brisingamen:
It has been suggested that it was a girdle, and again that it was a piece of amber, but the word men is generally used of a woman’s ornament worn at the neck…The meaning of the name has not been explained, and we do not know whether it was based on a family or tribal name, ‘the necklace of the Brisings’, or whether the reference is to the brightness of the ornament, from a rare form brisingr, ‘fire.’
-Gods and Myths of Northern Europe, H.R. Ellis Davidson
(Wasn't one of Christopher Paolini's books in the Eragon series called Brisingr?)
She had a carriage pulled by cats, and she also owned a feather cloak that let her turn into a falcon. Loki borrowed it several times, and Freya was always very generous about lending it.
Sorry for the lack of posts lately. In these past few weeks I've started a job at a library. While I was driving to my first day of work, my hood latch snapped and the hood flew up and crashed into my windshield. The windshield didn't break, but the hood was wrecked. My car is fixed now, but when I drive I still find myself staring nervously at the hood instead of the road. | English | NL | 904fddce648bd1d78ec4642853288ea5dc53b7565ca758348ea668760b522ee8 |
Eugene and the Missionaries had been approached to establish themselves in Alais, in the Diocese of Nimes. Travelling to see the situation, he reported to Henri Tempier:
… Meanwhile, they offer to rent you lodging in a small house at the expense of the parochial administration, to serve as assistant to the parish priest and on Sunday to go two or three leagues from Alais and say Mass in different vacant parishes. I do not see how this can be the vocation of our missionaries. That is why I am very determined not to accept the offers which will be made to us. However, we are going to set out for Alais in order not to appear to act inconsiderately and without knowing the situation.
All however is not lost and the good God, who knows our good desires and the purity of our intentions, will no doubt provide for his work.
Letter to Henri Tempier, 7 April 1825, EO VI n. 176
In the process of discernment, he had to be open to every aspect of the situation so as to understand God’s will for them at that moment. What was clear for Eugene, however, was that the Oblates in France did not accept parish ministry – their mission was to minister to those who were not being touched by the local parish structures.
“The surest method of arriving at a knowledge of God’s eternal purposes about us is to be found in the right use of the present moment. God’s will does not come to us in the whole, but in fragments, and generally in small fragments. It is our business to piece it together, and to live it into one orderly vocation.” Frederick W. Faber | English | NL | 5fa7768a16d2b120e7d78eb372c465cd4a3551271731b81cf93cbcefd20c7a32 |
REMEDY WHEEL was discovering all the bizarre, futuristic electronics and vehicles which made their debut during the "big show by the lake," the 1933-34 World's Fair in Chicago. The Dymaxion Car was designed to negotiate the narrow lanes and limited parking areas in newly congested cities. Part of the message of the Fair, of course, was that economic recovery was so assured that soon everyone would have a car, and such problems as parking would become universal. Prosperity was right around the corner. Designed by archietct and inventor Buckminster Fuller, the sleek, bullet car looked much like the airborne "pods" of the Skyride which lifted passengers back and forth above the lagoon, a perch from which they could see four states.
Here's a quick description from Wikipedia: "The Dymaxion car was a three wheeler, steered by a single rear wheel, and could do a U-turn in its own length. However, the rear-wheel steering made the car somewhat counterintuitive to operate, especially in crosswind situations. The body was teardrop-shaped, and naturally aerodynamically efficient. The car was twice as long as a conventional automobile, at 20 feet (6.1 m) long. Drive power was provided by a rear-mounted Ford V8 engine, (See: RF →) which produced 85 brake horsepower (63 kW; 86 PS) through the front wheels. The front axle was also a Ford component, being the rear axle of a contemporary Ford roadster turned upside-down."
Even Amelia Earhart, who made a surprise landing in Lake Michigan during the Fair, took a joyride in the Dymaxion. You can see her in the backseat during this video clip. Luckily she wasn't onboard when the Dymaxion suffered a fatal accident during a later exhibition. The prototype flipped over, rolled a few times, and killed the driver. Investors quickly lost interest.
Earhart fans should check out my friend Micah Ling's beautiful poetry collection, Three Islands, which revolves around the enigmatic figures of Earhart, Fletcher Christian and Robert Stroud. | English | NL | 7e87e69065e30e9afd50edd3a2e0302a0d20126665ca851efa5fe31a68544e32 |
Molly Peters, who played Patricia Fearing in Thunderball, has died at the age of 75. The news was broken by the official 007 Twitter account.
We are sad to hear that Molly Peters has passed away at the age of 75. Our thoughts are with her family. pic.twitter.com/6k3Ifs2gpY
— James Bond (@007) May 30, 2017
Peters was born on 15th March 1942 and best known for her role in the James Bond film Thunderball.
She started out as a model and was discovered by film director Terence Young. Of her three films from the 1960s, her best-known appearance was the role of Bond girl, Patricia Fearing or Pat, a nurse who takes care of James Bond (Sean Connery) while he is on holiday at her health clinic in Thunderball (1965). She was the first Bond girl to be seen taking her clothes off on screen in the Bond series.
Peters appeared in Playboy, in the November 1965 issue. Her appearance was as part of a pictorial essay entitled “James Bond’s Girls”, by Richard Maibaum.
According to the special edition DVD of Thunderball, Peters’ short film career was the result of a disagreement between her and her agent, the specifics of which were not revealed. According to Peters, her agent at the time of Thunderball held her to her contract agreement of representation due to the mega-successful box-office hit of the fourth James Bond film in 1965. Not until many years later, when the fame, the glamour and the chaos had faded from the release of Thunderball, her contractual agreement had ended and so had any modelling and/or film prospects.
When she was young, she gave birth to a daughter, whom she gave up for adoption. Peters later married and lived with her husband in Ipswich, Suffolk. She and her husband had a son, who has since died. In 2011, Peters suffered a mild stroke. Peters passed away at the age of 75 on 30th May 2017.
Peter Studies Form (1964) (as Mollie Peters)
Thunderball (1965) as Patricia Fearing
Target for Killing (aka Das Geheimnis der gelben Mönche) (1966) as Vera
Das Experiment (1966) (TV) as Junges Mädchen
Armchair Theatre (1 episode, 1967) as Waitress
Baker’s Half-Dozen (1967, TV series, unknown episodes) as The Girl
The Naked World of Harrison Marks (1967) as Herself
Don’t Raise the Bridge, Lower the River (1968) as Heath’s Secretary (final film role) | English | NL | 69dc9ee38d545f919e00d6be5a8b7402134b0a526d75214308dcaaac4809a536 |
It has been years maybe decades, since the last time I’ve seen anyone. I looked down, my fin was beginning to decay; my time was running out. As I broke the surface, I could see a large boat in the distance. Swimming closer I saw a family of three on the boat. I poked my head just above the water as a little girl, no older than eight, saw me yelling out “Daddy! Ariel is in the water!”
I quickly dipped into the water and followed the boat at a safe distance, every so often poking my head out of the water to reveal myself to the little girl and without fail; she would keep calling her parents over to see me. The boat finally stopped and I saw some fishing lines drop in front of the boat. Good. I got close to the boat and as I ascended, I held my index finger to my lips, hoping the little girl would understand. When she saw me she was about to speak but then she covered her mouth and nodded. She had a pink life vest on, big bright blue eyes, and soft blonde hair that bounced around her cute face.
“Is your name Ariel?” She bounced up and down.
I thought about The Little Mermaid, something that I have not seen in a long time and nodded.
“But…you’re old.” Her words stung me; I scowled but quickly masked it with a smile. I waved for her to come into the water, patting the surface making tiny splish-splash noises and she stared with uncertainty until I raised my fin to entice her. My fins, though decaying, were still a vibrant purple, her eyes lit up and she jumped into the water. As she did, I unbuckled the vest from her and tossed it aside. I patted my back and she climbed on looking nervous wrapping her little arms around my neck. I glanced over my shoulder, holding my nose and she mimicked me taking a deep breath as we dove under. It became darker the further we went. My heart was racing when I pulled her hands away and turned towards her. I opened my mouth my jaw extending outward, the skin on my cheeks ripping as my jaw becomes unhinged; my teeth starting to grow, long and pointed like an angler’s, my nails became jagged and sharp; I saw the horror on her face as I lunged at her sinking my teeth into her little neck. Large air bubbles escaped her as she tried to scream but I consumed her.
When I came to, I was looking up at the sky, I could hear seagulls nearby and feel the waves crashing to my legs but I couldn’t move my body. I laid there for a while before I heard someone yell in the distance and soon enough I heard footsteps approaching me. A man hovered over me, “Are you okay little girl?!” | English | NL | 7833fff62c3f108070eecb3c6ca305917cdbce029a91edb60bda8f157b8bf5fd |
Kick the Cat
Installation and painting series by Adam Turl
This is a recreation of an exhibit organized by Mary Hoagland in a Peoria garage in 2041. It included her own work as well as work by the 13 Baristas Art Collective (13BAC), an association of artists spearheaded by Sidney Williams, Maggie Cromwell and Amy Sverdlov.
Hoagland was born in Peoria, Illinois in 2012. Her father, Mark Hoalgand, worked at Caterpillar for 29 years before losing his job when Mary was three years old. Mary eventually moved to Chicago to study painting at the University of Illinois. She dropped out a year later, found work as a barista in the Bucktown neighborhood and joined 13BAC. 13BAC produced most of their work in a uniform style reminiscent of old punk rock zines, comics and political broadsheets. They were also known for covering their paintings in coffee and using disposable coffee cups as painting surfaces. Amy Sverdlov also recruited Mary into the Socialist League for a United Revolutionary Party (SLURP).
In 2037 Haogland was seriously injured in a car accident on Lake Shore Drive. During her recovery she moved back home to Peoria and began a series of ctional paintings about the children of Caterpillar workers—“Kick the Cat”—named for the rank-and- le union newsletter produced by union militants in the 1990s.
Unfortunately, Hoagland’s output was limited by injuries and poverty. She depended on SSI and food stamps and frequently could not afford painting supplies. She lived in her brother’s garage until her death in 2049. | English | NL | a8bab2e4d4213307760aa61a0183fc5543c3047f9747f6d8a81da131e8e4b11c |
Do you hear that? Has God called you to do something, maybe outside of your comfort zone? Perhaps you don’t feel qualified to do what He has asked you to. You’re not alone, the prophet Jeremiah felt the same.
What do we know about Jeremiah?
He was from the tribe of Benjamin which was located between the two most powerful tribes, Ephraim to the north and Judah to the south. Jerusalem was originally a part of the land allotted to Benjamin but was quickly taken over by Judah. His dad was a priest, which means he was from the tribe of Levi living in the city of Anathoth, three miles northeast of Jerusalem and a city that was set aside for the priest for the tribe of Benjamin. Jeremiah was well versed in what the Scriptures said. He most likely was being trained to take over for his dad as priest one day. He was a teenager when he was called.
What was God’s calling on Jeremiah?
First, we see God knew Jeremiah before he was born. How can that be? I think the best explanation of this is comparing it to like the Rose Parade on New Year’s Day. If you go there and sit on the street you see only the part of the parade that is in front of you. While the blimp high in the sky can see the beginning and end because it is so far away. We live our lives not one day at a time but one second at a time, seeing only what is happening in the here and now. God, on the other hand, is like the blimp and sees our lives all at one time.
Next, God sanctified, set apart, Jeremiah to be His tool. We too have been sanctified liked Jeremiah by the blood of Jesus, Hebrews 10:10 EZV;
And by that will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.
Lastly, in Jeremiah 1:5, that Jeremiah was ordained to be a prophet. We to have been asked to do certain positions within the church, Ephesians 4:7-16, we see the gifts He has given to us is for the edification and building up of the body of Christ. We don’t all get the same gift, He gave each of us a different gift in order that we will bring unity to the body of Christ. Yet, many of us have let the gifts bring division, not unity as God planned.
But to each one of us grace was given according to the measure of Christ’s gift. Therefore He says:
“When He ascended on high,
He led captivity captive,
And gave gifts to men.”
(Now this, “He ascended”—what does it mean but that He also first descended into the lower parts of the earth? He who descended is also the One who ascended far above all the heavens, that He might fill all things.)
And He Himself gave some to be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, and some pastors and teachers, for the equipping of the saints for the work of ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ, till we all come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to a perfect man, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ; that we should no longer be children, tossed to and fro and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the trickery of men, in the cunning craftiness of deceitful plotting, but, speaking the truth in love, may grow up in all things into Him who is the head—Christ— from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by what every joint supplies, according to the effective working by which every part does its share, causes growth of the body for the edifying of itself in love.
If you have heard the call of God to do something that you are uncomfortable you are in good company with Moses, Isaiah, and Jeremiah.
(Photo by Antoine Barres at Unsplash.) | English | NL | c7c8c93ed121bd137f1a2d16f5017de108ab4cd3855ae3479b1a0f6a86b28640 |
By Booker T. Washington.
When I began the work of founding what is now known as the Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute, near the little town of Tuskegee, Alabama, I did not have a dollar to put into the work, nor did the institution own a dollar's worth of property. In looking about for a place in which to make a beginning, I happened to find an abandoned shanty that was about sixteen by twenty-four feet. This shanty was in such a condition that it was nearly ready to tumble down. The floor had holes in it so large that one had to be careful to see that one's foot did not slip through them. The walls were in about the same condition as the floor. When it rained the water would pour in at nearly every part of the house. At such a time the students would sit upon their books in order to keep them dry. More than once do I remember that when I would be hearing a recitation, one of the students would get an umbrella and hold it over me to shield me from the rain.
The seats on which the students sat were in many cases large rails or a split log which rested upon some stones, or had pegs driven into it for legs. There was no teacher's table, and a portion of the time I used a dry goods box for a seat. Of course, blackboards and such luxuries were hardly to be thought of. Books were very scarce. At one time I saw five students preparing a lesson from one book; the two who sat upon the front seat had a book between them, directly behind them there were two others looking over the shoulders of the first two, and behind the last two there was a fifth looking over the shoulders of all four.
During the first two years in the history of the Tuskegee Institute I spent a good deal of time, mainly on Saturdays and Sundays, traveling by dirt road through the country, letting the people know about the school and studying their actual conditions and needs. While on these journeys I made it a point, as far as possible, to see the people in their actual everyday life - to see them in their homes, their fields, their schools and churches; in real life rather than in a stimulated, artificial life. With this in view, I confined myself carefully to the rural districts and smaller towns where the majority of our people live, and made my visits among them without notice of my coming being given. I found that the food of the people generally consisted of corn bread and a piece of fried fat bacon, with now and then a little "greens" or molasses. The meal was usually eaten without any pretence at sitting down at a table. Each individual would eat his portion from the hand, and often while sitting by the fire, or walking about in the yard, or perhaps more often while on the way to the cotton field for the day's work. As a rule the people lived in cabins containing but one room. Sometimes I found as many as ten who slept in one room, and they would be of all sexes and all sizes, often including several who were in no way related to the family. It was rather an interesting experience to find myself waiting on the outside of the cabin at night for an opportunity to go to bed. But neither poverty nor the want of the simplest conveniences and comforts of life was the worst feature in the conditions which I found. This was the gloom that seemed to be cast over everyone by reason of the constant presence of debt: debt for the rent of the land, the mortgage on the crop, on the mule or cow, as well as debt for clothes, for food, for whisky, for tobacco, for snuff. These debts not only covered in many cases the present year's operations, but had overlapped and would inevitably extend far into the future. Thus it was true that the past, present and future were mortgaged. The time was when I was rather inclined to blame the southern white man for the debts of the colored people, but closer observation has taught me that one of the main things that the southern white man has to guard against is to keep the negro from going too deeply into debt, and that, but for the refusal of many southern merchants and bankers to give more credit, both the negro and the southern white people would be farther in debt than they are.
In inspecting the schools, while I was on these journeys, I found that they were in about the condition that my school was in when I first came to Tuskegee; that they rarely were in session longer than four months, while the ignorance and incompetency of most of the teachers was something almost impossible to describe. Teachers, pupils and parents had implicit faith in a vague idea that all that one had to do was to learn to read and write, to memorize some facts in history, and especially to learn something about Latin, Greek, or some foreign language, and the more foreign and the more useless the more highly they prized it, and the future of the race would be secure. They had no idea of connecting education with anything that was to be done in every-day life.
While there was prevalent almost a worship of books, it was pathetic to note that in the. early days of the Tuskegee school, before any boarding department was started, there was an absence of any idea that book knowledge should have connection with real everyday living with such matters, for example, as the use of the bathtub, the proper cooking and serving of food, the use of the toothbrush, or the care of the sleeping room. Such observations convinced me very early in the life of the school that to give these students mere abstract book training would ne time thrown away.
As often as possible I would go into the churches on Sunday. In the churches, as was true of the teaching in the schools, I found that with few exceptions there was no attempt made to connect the preaching with anything that concerned daily life in this world. As an illustration, I listened for an hour or more one day to a minister preaching most earnestly to a large congregation, and the whole burden of his sermon was advising the people "to get rid of the world." Instead of advising the people how to get hold of land, homes, and other property, he was intent upon their getting rid of what little earthly possessions they did have. Since, on examination, I found that only two men in the congregation owned an acre of land, and only four owned the mules which they were using, and that practically all were in debt to the extent of several times all their earthly holdings, the "getting rid of the world" doctrine in that community was useless.
But through all the history and struggle of the early years of starting the Tuskegee Institute, there was one thing that was a constant source of encouragement and led one on irresistibly to do his very best. This was the almost pathetic anxiety of the students and parents to improve their condition. Just how this was to be done they did not know, but they knew they wanted something that they did not have. Another thing that made me feel very serious was the absolute faith that they seemed to have in me and my efforts. The longing of students and parents for better things not only impressed me, but the interest manifested by many of the southern white people in colored young men and women was encouraging. In many cases this interest was shown because the parent of the student, or the student himself, had been owned by some member of the white family. Here again was brought out that peculiar attachment between master and slave in the, south which it is hard for the outside world to understand. Few people take more genuine pride in the intellectual or material advance of colored boys and girls, in many cases, than the white people who once owned them or their parents.
The information which I gained by a study of the condition of the students who first came to the school, together with my close observation of the life of the masses of the people and the relations between the races, gave me the necessary information for planning a course of training which I thought would be effective in reaching the conditions and needs of the members of my race in the part of the country in which I was to work. In making an analysis of their condition, I found that a very large percentage of the people lived by agriculture in some form. Not with standing that they depended upon agriculture, the soil was cultivated as a rule in an unintelligent, unskilled manner. I found that while the soil was capable of producing in abundance almost any product fit for the use of man, still the people raised little aside from cotton, and this was produced in a very costly manner, for the reason that the farmers were often in debt for it before the crop was planted. Instead of raising pigs, cows, chickens, grain and vegetables and producing eggs and butter and other forms of fresh and nourishing food, they went to town for their supplies, which, as I have stated, consisted for the most part of corn bread and bacon with little variation during the twelve months, except that now and then a little molasses, also bought at the store, would be used. These facts led me to conclude, as General Armstrong had done years before at the Hampton Institute, that whatever else should be taught at the Tuskegee Institute, agriculture should occupy the first place because it was out of this industry that the masses of my people were to get their daily living. I observed, further, that many had left the rural districts and were eking out a miserable existence in large cities because farm life was so isolated and unattractive, since most of the work on the farm was done in an ignorant, shiftless and costly manner.
To remedy these conditions, we began to teach agriculture at the Tuskegee Institute very soon after the school was organized. There were many difficulties in the way. The first was that most of the students came to us from the farms, and that their main object in seeking an education was to enable them to escape farm life. They felt, too, that they knew about all there was to be known concerning agriculture. They were over-anxious to learn in an abstract manner whatever was in books, but nothing else. To add to the trouble, the institution was so poor that we had nothing in the way of conveniences and implements that would lead them to believe that the instructors at the school knew any more about farming than the student knew. Gradually, however, after a number of years of hard work, we changed the ideas of the students regarding agricultural work, and through the students the ideas of the parents were changed. The opposition faded away in proportion as we were able to improve the teaching and the apparatus used. I will not attempt to tell the whole story, except to say that at the present moment we never hear of the least objection coming from parent or student to agricultural work, and not only is there a vital enthusiasm in favor of it at Tuskegee to the extent that we cannot supply the opportunities to all who want to come, but. this spirit has spread to every part of the south.
We began teaching agriculture in 1882 with one hoe and one blind horse. At the present time the school cultivates by the labor of the students seven hundred acres of land, and grows a large part of the food consumed by the one thousand four hundred students, instructors and families upon the grounds. At the same time the academic teaching is dove-tailed into the agricultural teaching in a way to make the one help the other. Instead of a student writing an essay about something in the air, he writes about the growing of potatoes, or describes the dairy or poultry yard. In the debating societies they discuss such questions as whether or not the incubator or the hen is the better method of raising chickens. Instead of the one hoe that we began with, there are at present upon our farm scores of hoes and numbers of the latest and most improved labor saving pieces of machinery. Instead of one blind horse the school owns fifty horses, mules and colts.
Our first dairy consisted of one cow that we used to tie out under a pine tree. Our present dairy consists of one hundred and fifty-eight cows, bulls and calves, and a large, attractive dairy barn that is said to be the best in the. south. The dairy house is supplied with all the best apparatus for teaching our students to make butter and cheese.
The farm work has not only grown in the directions that I have mentioned, but a number of girls are now taking a course in agriculture, including truck growing, gardening, fruit growing, dairying, bee raising, and poultry raising. Our large poultry yard, for example, is wholly cared for by girls who are taking practical and theoretical agriculture in connection with simple English branches. How much better, it seems to me, it is to teach a girl how to raise poultry intelligently and skillfully, so that she can earn an independent living, than to have her spend her life as a book agent or as a clerk in a shop or department store.
What I saw of the houses led me to decide that, one of the great needs of our people was decent houses. In order to help supply this demand, I resolved that next to the teaching of agriculture, house building should be the industry that we would emphasize most. Since we were without buildings at the institution it seemed to me best to begin by teaching the students how to erect their own school buildings, shops and dormitories, and teachers cottages, so that, having learned practical and theoretical house building at Tuskegee, they would be able to go out and build for themselves decent homes, and teach our people how to do the same thing. I confess that I was almost ashamed of some of the bricks the students molded, and of some of the houses they erected, in the earlier years of the institute, but what was lacking in perfection of finish was more than counterbalanced in teaching the lesson of self help and moral backbone. As the visitor drives through our school grounds at the present time, among the fifty and more buildings built almost wholly by the students, I think he could not tell whether they had been erected by students or by skilled workmen. He would see the plans being drawn by students, first class bricks being manufactured and laid by them, and he would see plumbing and electric lighting being done in the same way. Driving a few miles out into the country, in any direction, he would come to neat cottages that have been built by Tuskegee students, He could scarcely go into a city or town in the south without finding a number of neat, comfortable homes owned by Tuskegee Institute graduates, What is true of the Tuskegee Institute in this respect is, in a large degree, true of other institutions, As an old colored man put it some time ago, all through the south evidence's are multiplying that "we's gwine to quit libin in de ashes."
In further analyzing the condition of my people in the south, I found that next to agriculture the largest number were engaged in some form of domestic service. I naturally reasoned that since this was true, in our teaching at the Tuskegee Institute we ought to teach them to perform such service in a skilled, intelligent and conscientious manner. This, I confess, was perhaps our hardest task. We were confronted with three difficulties; one was that every girl, as well as her parents, felt that she knew all there was to be known about cooking, table-serving, laundering, and housekeeping in general. The second was, that each girl and her parents felt perfectly sure that as soon as she had mastered a certain number of rules in arithmetic and grammar, and could remember certain dates in history, and locate a large number of cities, rivers and lakes, she would have no earthly use for anything that had any connection with such ordinary things as cooking, laundering or sewing. The last and main difficulty was that a large proportion of the colored people throughout the south would become inflamed at the mere suggestion of teaching their children any of the domestic or industrial occupations; they connected such teaching with slavery and considered it a badge of degradation. Aside from the regular text books, as one mother said to me, the only things that she was willing her daughter should be taught were "music and embroidery." It was a tedious and often a trying process to convince parents and students that every girl should know how to perform well all duties in connection with a home, and that the disgrace came in only when poor service was performed.
But all this I am glad to say has to do with the past. Since those early years not only has there been a revolution on the part of the students, but equally so in the minds of parents in practically every part of the south. One of our main difficulties at present at Tuskegee is to prevent the students from devoting too much of their time to industrial branches to the neglect of the academic training. Every girl comes with a request from parents or herself to be taught some industry. There are five kitchens at the institution where students are trained in cooking, table-serving, and such household duties. One of the things that is insisted upon is that the kitchen shall be made one of the cleanest and most attractive places in the home, that the dining room shall be made sweet and inviting with the help of flowers and in every other possible way. The same spirit exists regarding sewing, laundering and general housekeeping. I am sure that all the young men honor the girl who is specializing in cooking or laundering as much as the one who is preparing to be a music teacher. The need of this kind of training can be appreciated from a conversation. which I heard some years ago between a colored principal of a school and three of his assistant teachers. Everything inside and around the schoolhouse was miserably dirty and dilapidated. The new principal of the school determined to bring about a change and asked one of the lady teachers to take charge of a squad of pupils and show them how to sweep the floor. She flatly refused, remarking "I am a literary teacher." He asked another to take charge of the dusting. She too refused, saying that she too was a "literary teacher." The man assistant was asked to take charge of the cleaning of the yard and the whitewashing of the fences and the outside of the schoolhouse, but he remarked that he had been employed to teach rhetoric and English literature.
Throughout the history of this change in the ideas of the colored people, it was interesting to watch their mental processes during the different stages of this development. As I have intimated, soon after the freedom of the race, merely to intimate to the average negro father that his son was not to be a lawyer, minister, member of the legislature, or congressman was to insult him. It was hard in the earlier years to induce anyone to see that any race must lay the foundation for what the world calls the higher positions by mastering first the more fundamental and common things of life. But, as I have stated, it was interesting to note how they gradually began to reason things out for themselves. One old colored farmer told me his story which will illustrate the case of many. He had three sons; the oldest was sent to a purely literary college, where he remained several years and graduated, but he did not return to his father's farm. When the second son grew old enough, he was also sent to a purely literary institution, and after his education he too failed to return to the farm. The old man had been hoping that at least one of these sons would return and use his education in showing his parents how to raise fifty bushels of corn where only twenty-five grew before, and with less labor. He had hoped that one would return and help him put the old farmhouse in a comfortable and convenient condition. When his third son grew old enough, the old man had reasoned the matter out and was fully decided that his third son must be sent to a school where he would not only - study literature and science, but the application of the sciences to the raising of corn, peas, and stock - something that would make his boy imbibe such a love for the old farm that he would not want to leave it, but would be glad to return to it and show his parents how to improve the plant and animal growth upon it.
In the earlier years of the Tuskegee Institute a large proportion of the southern white people had the idea that every negro who was educated would become a minister, or teacher, or dude; that an educated negro meant as a rule a high hat, a big walking cane, kid gloves and patent leather shoes, with no benefit to accrue to the negro himself or to the southern white man. Not long ago I met a southern white man who once entertained such ideas. Just before I met him his wife had been sick near unto death. During all the anxious days of her sickness she was carefully and intelligently nursed by a black girl who some months before had graduated at the Tuskegee Institute nurse training school. This white man could not have spoken in more high terms of commendation of the education given at Harvard, or the University of Virginia, than he did of the Tuskegee Institute. Near Montgomery, Alabama, is another southern white man who a few years ago did not have much, if any, interest or faith in the education of the negro. This white man has a large dairy. In some way a few years ago a graduate from our dairy school secured employment under this white man. I will not describe in detail the success of this dairyman except to say that the man who once had little faith in the education of my race now keeps a standing order with the head of our agriculture department to the effect that he must have the first choice from every class that graduates from the department of dairying.
Originally published in Cosmopolitan Magazine. September 1902. | English | NL | 2b2beb2c3edb63c55abcefc59d19b32c9ee9ad93751945d40debf07da7577fe6 |
Whitney, Eli, 1765–1825, American inventor of the cotton gin , b. Westboro, Mass., grad. Yale, 1792. When he was staying as tutor at Mulberry Grove, the plantation of Mrs. Nathanael Greene, Whitney was encouraged by Mrs. Greene and visiting cotton planters to try to find some device by which the fiber of short-staple cotton could be rapidly separated from the seed. Whitney, whose creative mechanical bent had been evident from boyhood, completed his model gin early in 1793, after about 10 days of work, and by April had built an improved one. With Phineas Miller, Mrs. Greene"s plantation manager (and later her husband), he formed a partnership to manufacture gins at New Haven. He was unable to make enough gins to meet the demand, and although the partners received a patent in 1794, others copied his model and soon many gins were in use. After much litigation the partners received (1807) a favorable decision to protect their patent, but Congress in 1812 denied Whitney"s petition for its renewal. His invention, which had immense economic and social effects, brought great wealth to many others, but little to Whitney himself. In 1798 he built a firearms factory near New Haven. The muskets his workmen made by methods comparable to those of modern mass industrial production were the first to have standardized, interchangeable parts.
See biographies by J. Mirsky and A. Nevins (1962) and D. Olmsted (1846, repr. 1972) C. M. Green, Eli Whitney and the Birth of American Technology (1956). | English | NL | 3fe891c7ba4a10180eae879e7f935e1260d388555f4acdfecfd89e2ec9056f9c |
The next morning was bright and sunny. I ate a good breakfast. Then I walked round the little town of Crythin Gifford. It was market-day. The little town was busy. Farmers were buying and selling animals in the market-square.
The streets of Crythin Gifford were completely flat. The countryside all round the town was flat too. There were no hills at all. To the east of the town were the marshes - and on the marshes was Eel Marsh House.
I walked back to the inn and got ready for the funeral. 1 put on a dark suit and went downstairs again.
Mr Jerome was waiting for me downstairs. Mr Jerome was Mrs Drablow's agent - he looked after her house and land. Mr Jerome was a small man dressed in black. He smiled politely and we left the inn.
As we walked through the square, people stared at us. They stopped talking. No one smiled.
The church stood in an old graveyard. There were old gravestones on either side of a long path.
It was very cola inside the church. Mr Jerome and I were the only people at the funeral. Poor Mrs Drablow, I thought. Didn't she have any friends at all? Then I heard a sound behind me.
I turned. A Young woman was standing at the back of the church. She was dressed in old-fashioned black clothes - clothes of sixty years ago. A large, old-fashioned bonnet covered her face. She raised her head and looked at me. The young woman's face was white and very thin. How ill she looked!
When we left the church I looked for the woman. But I did not see her. Then in the graveyard, I saw her again. In the sunshine her face was whiter and thinner.
I closed my eyes to pray. When I opened them, the woman had gone. Beyond the graveyard I saw the estuary. And beyond the estuary was the open sea.
The funeral was over. I followed Mr Jerome from the churchyard.
`Who was that young woman?' I asked him.
Mr Jerome stopped and looked at me.
`Young woman?' he said.
`Yes, a young woman. She was dressed in black and she looked very ill.'
Mr Jerome's face went white.
`I did not see a young woman,' he said.
I looked behind me. The young woman was standing beside Mrs Drablow's grave.
`Look, there she is!' I said.
Mr Jerome made a strange sound. He did not turn round to look at the woman.
He held my arm tightly. He began to shake.
`Mr Jerome!' I cried. `Are you ill? Let go of my arm and I'll bring a car for you.'
`No, no, he cried. `No, sir. Stay with me!'
After a few moments, Mr Jerome spoke again.
`I'm very sorry, sir,' he said quietly. `I felt ill for a moment. I can go on now.'
We walked slowly back to the Gifford Arms.
`Are you taking me to Eel Marsh House, Mr Jerome?' I said politely.
The little man shook his head.
`No, not me,' he said. `Keckwick will take you. You have to go across a causeway to get to Eel Marsh House. When the tide is in, the sea covers the causeway. You can't get across. You can only cross the causeway when the tide is out That will be after one o'clock.'
`There may be a lot of papers to look at,' I said. `I may stay in Eel Marsh House tonight.'
`You will find the inn more comfortable,' Mr Jerome said quietly.
`Perhaps you are right,' I said.
The lunch at the Gifford Arms was a good one and I ate well.
At half past one, I was waiting outside the inn. The key to Eel Marsh House was in my pocket. I listened for the sound of Keckwick's car. | English | NL | 54f2e56befd7a9479bb1a81dcd8b1699fb59ca42c25bb693323c1c029b6a39e4 |
If I'm Being Honest by Emily Wibberley and Austin Siegmund-Broka (April 23) To Buy at Your Local Bookstore (Affiliate Link)
Overview: Inspired by The Taming of The Shrew, Cameron's story starts with her as a mean girl with a sharp tongue and a problem beyond having no filter. She's horrible to everyone yet undeniably popular and surrounded by friends who are just like her at her super expensive LA prep school. But, then, she finds something she wants that she can't have: Andrew. He thinks that she's a "bitch". The word stings, and Cameron decides to make amends with everyone she's wronged to prove him otherwise. She finds that, maybe, she likes being... a decent human being? Overall: 3.8
Characters: 3 There are unlikable female characters that you love because they're strong, confused, or prickly on the outside, and then there's Cameron. I think that in their last book, Never Always Yours, Megan is a prime example of an unlikable character (that I loved). She's outspoken and honest with her sharper traits grounded in her unstable family situation and personal insecurity. There's a definite humanity to cling on to and identify with.
Cameron, on the other hand, is just mean. She says crappy things to people for no reason other than to have a snippy thing to say. She seems to think she can only build herself up by tearing others down. She thinks nothing of her mom, and, ya, she has a poor home life, but we never dig into it enough to justify her behavior. She seems to be the product of a toxic private school social environment where her negative traits are exacerbated. Also, even when she decides to try to be nice, she acts like a robot, totally incapable of empathy. Despite the fact that she started doing better, I wanted to yell "Noooo!" at all the outcasts and misfits who accepted her after she spent three years putting them down. I get that she's based off of Katherine in Shakespeare's play, and I haven't read it, so I can't attest to how close the characters are, but I have watched 10 Things I Hate About You, also based on the play. Kat is empathetic, strong and nonconformist- not hateful to everyone around her.
That being said, there are some good characters and some cardboard ones. Brendan made the book for me. Even though I wish he didn't give Cameron a million and one chances, he's still adorable, kind, sweet, and intelligent. I think he also had an interesting storyline of rediscovering his worth after years of school wide bullying. I wish the revelation didn't come facilitated by his former bully for her own selfish reasons, though. Brad, though he's barely featured, is also a needed bit of humor and the only popular kid I don't despise.
Beyond that, her parents, her prep school friends, and the other background characters are given no arc or time to shine. They seem to exist only as objects for Cameron to complain or make a point about. They're never really seen in action for us to understand or identify with.
Plot: 4 I have a real mix up of feelings about this book. I still don't believe Cameron is a good person, and I don't think that she deserves the good that comes to her, but after about page 200, I started having fun. Her moments of banter with Brendan are gold, and I like seeing her hang out with Paige.
I had a struggle with the beginning, though. Most of it is Cameron being whiney and entitled. She wants a boy (that she tosses aside and barely gets mentioned even though he facilitates the whole plot) she can't have, but she never shows what makes him so great. Then she starts her apology tour to "tame" herself after her English class starts the play. The apology list drives her actions through the rest of the book. Honestly, if I hadn't been reading an ARC, I would have probably DNF'd it 50 pages in.
Writing: 3 I'm not sure what happened. I was so excited for this book because I genuinely loved Never Always Yours for its deep characters and family relationships. The biggest problem with this book is there's almost no action and no dialogue. We only see things happening as Cameron tells us they do, which makes the situations less compelling. It's clear when you're supposed to feel bad for Cameron. I never did, though. There were so many good places for exploration and for genuine change, if it seemed like Cameron ever meant it. The justifications for her behavior were too shallow and poorly illustrated to buy, and it made the book harder to get through.
More By These Authors... | English | NL | d1cb4e755ebc4c12a8faea3eced1c216ff45ee11354b2c251293840adffd3680 |
Savant was created by Gail Simone and Ed Benes. And made his debut in Birds of Prey #56.
Savant is the rich heir to a large fortune, but was inevitably disowned by his father for his criminal actions. He then left Europe for America, coming to Gotham City in an effort to become a vigilante. He set out to stop an arsonist, stopping him while Batman saved the victims still inside. Batman then condemned his vigilante activities, citing that while he had the skills for it he didn't care about the people he was saving. He then set out building a world wide black mailing organization, blackmailing everyone from senators to kings.
Later Savant returned to Gotham capturing the Black Canary, in an effort to reach Oracle to trade her life for the true identity of the Batman. However the plan fell apart when Oracle called in the aid of the Huntress, with Savant and Creote being captured and Savant being sent to Arkham Asylum. He was then freed when a senator, fearing Oracle had gained the files Savant had on him hired him to pick the ten most likely women in Gotham to be Oracle. However once again the Huntress saved the day, with Oracle striking up a deal with Savant. She then set up Creote and Savant in a Gotham neighborhood to save it from the rampant crime in an effort to rehabilitate him. However the Black Canary continued to question this choice bringing the villain to a building, with her fighting him before allowing herself to put revenge behind her. Huntress when splitting from Oracle enlisted Creote and Savant's help in taking down a Gotham capo as they worked closely with the vigilante. Later when a shipment of drugs were on their way to flood the streets of Gotham, Savant was a member of the squad consisting of Wildcat, Richard Dragon, Connor Hawke, Creote, Huntress and the Black Canary to battle the shipment's bodyguards the Twelve Brothers in Silk. During the course of the battle he held his own, but was eventually defeated but lived as the shipment was destroyed by Lady Blackhawk.
Savant is then captured by the Black Spider and Hellhound on orders of the Calculator in his effort to learn about Oracle. However Savant managed to endure two days of torture due to his condition, which made it feel like it had only been hours instead of days. He was then rescued by Black Canary, Huntress and Creote but his anger over the torture caused him to seek vengeance throwing the new Black Spider out a window several stories down, fortunately the Black Spider lived. As the Black Spider and Savant were being prepared to be taken for medical treatment, the Society's final member appeared Deathstroke. He then began a battle with Huntress, Black Canary, Creote and Lady Blackhawk getting the better until being shot and falling from a building by the injured Savant who announced he quit.
Despite this however he was one of the group who returned to confront the Spy Smasher in her bid to replace Oracle as the leader of the Birds of Prey.
The New 52
Savant was later arrested and made into one of the new recruits for the Suicide Squad. He is apparently killed on Amanda Waller's orders after failing the initial test of the new members, but appears alive several issues later. He is always at odds with Deadshot and extremely arrogant. He was able to find Harley Quinn first and beat her up a bit, but she then lured him onto a pressure sensitive mine in a jail cell. He is currently stuck there. | English | NL | e2a18a5603032f4f092b38758255c1742dcdfa5848ee8e7a5e2a6dd034117746 |
Certain periods and people in history hold a particular fascination for me. Robert the Bruce is one such. The grandfather of the Stewart dynasty and hero of Scotland, he started his career with some very divided loyalties. Initially a supporter of Edward I, it was only the arrival of William Wallace that started Bruce on his journey to becoming the saviour of Scottish independence.
Through the murder of his greatest rival and the Battle of Bannockburn, Bruce proved himself determined and resourceful, overcoming defeat to emerge victorious and master of his realm.
Bruce suffered greatly for the crown, with his family and friends facing similar hardships.
Robert the Bruce’s wife endured a no less punishing life in support of her husband.
Elizabeth de Burgh was born around 1289. The daughter of Richard de Burgh, Earl of Ulster and Connaught, and his wife, Margaret, she was a god-daughter of England’s king, Edward I. At the age of 13 Elizabeth was married to Robert the Bruce, Earl of Carrick, in 1302; probably at his manor of Writtle, near Chelmsford in Essex. It is possible the marriage was arranged by Edward; he certainly encouraged it, as a way of keeping his young Scottish noble loyal to his cause.
However, events in Scotland would soon push the Bruce away from his English alliances; his murder of his greatest rival for the throne, John Comyn, in the Chapel of the Greyfriars in Dumfries. Aware that he would be excommunicated for his actions, Bruce raced to Scone to be crowned before a papal bull could be issued.
6 weeks later, on March 25th 1306, the Bruce was crowned King Robert I of Scotland, with Elizabeth by his side, by Isabella MacDuff, Countess of Buchan. As daughter of the Earl of Fife, Isabella claimed the hereditary right of the Clan MacDuff, to crown the King of Scots. The couple was crowned in a second ceremony the next day by the Bishop of St Andrews, William Lamberton, who had arrived too late to play her part in the ceremony on the 25th.
Unfortunately the coronation was not the end of trouble for the Bruces. If anything, things were about to get much worse.
An ailing Edward I sent his loyal lieutenant, Aymer de Valence, north and he met and defeated Robert’s army at Methven in June of the same year. Robert sent his brother Neil and the Earl of Atholl to escort his wife to safety. They took the Queen, Princess Marjorie (Robert the Bruce’s daughter by his first marriage), sisters Mary and Christian and the countess of Buchan, north towards Orkney.
However, the English caught up with them at Kildrummy Castle and laid siege to it. The garrison was betrayed from within, the barns set alight and the Bruce women had barely time to escape with the Earl of Atholl before the castle was taken. Sir Neil Bruce and the entire garrison were executed; Neil was hung, drawn and quartered at Berwick in September 1306.
Queen Elizabeth and her companions made for Tain, in Easter Ross, possibly in the hope of finding a boat to take them onwards. However, they were captured by the Earl of Ross (a former adherent of the deposed King John Balliol), who took them from sanctuary at St Duthac and handed them over to the English. They were sent south, To Edward I at Lanercost Priory.
Elizabeth’s capture would have been a hard blow for Robert the Bruce. The new King of Scotland still lacked a male heir, and had no chance of getting one while his wife was in English hands. This made his hold on the throne even more precarious than it already was.
Edward I’s admirer, Sir Maurice Powicke said Edward treated his captives with a ‘peculiar ferocity’. He ordered that 24-year-old Mary Bruce and Isabella, the Countess of Buchan who performed Robert the Bruce’s coronation, should be imprisoned in specially constructed iron cages and suspended from the outside walls of castles; Mary at Roxburgh and Isabella at Berwick. Although it is more likely that the cages were in rooms within the castles, rather than exposed to the elements, they would be held in that way for 4 years, until Edward I’s successor, Edward II, ordered their removal to convents in 1310.
It seems Edward ordered a cage to be made Marjorie at the Tower of London, where she was first held. But he relented, possibly because of her age, and the child – not yet 12 years old – was sent to a nunnery in Yorkshire. Initial orders were given that she should be held in solitary confinement, with no one allowed to speak to her; but this may also have been rescinded.
Marjorie’s aunt and Mary’s older sister, Christian, was also sent to a Gilbertine nunnery, this time in Lincolnshire; although her husband, Sir Christopher Seton, was hung, drawn and beheaded at Dumfries.
Elizabeth was treated more kindly than her step-daughter, and the other ladies. Her father was a close ally of Edward I and the king did not want to alienate him. The Queen of Scots was sent to Burstwick Manor in Holderness, Yorkshire, from where she wrote to Edward I, in an undated letter, complaining that she only had 3 changes of clothes, and no bed linen. She then spent 4 years at Bisham Manor in Berkshire.
However in 1312, with her husband gaining strength and raiding into Yorkshire, she was moved to a more secure location, probably the Tower of London (although some sources state Windsor Castle). By this time she was allowed 6 attendants and was given a regular allowance.Elizabeth was later moved to Shaftesbury Abbey in Dorset but the political situation was about to change.
In 1314 Robert the Bruce achieved a not inconsiderable victory at the Battle of Bannockburn over Edward II and his English forces. Several notable English lords were taken prisoner, including Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Hereford. Negotiations for his release led to a prisoner exchange and Elizabeth and the rest of the Bruce ladies, finally returned to Scotland after 8 years of imprisonment.
Reunited at last, Robert set about consolidating his kingdom, with his queen at his side.
His daughter, Marjorie Bruce, was married to Walter Stewart, hereditary High Steward of Scotland. Following a fall from a horse while heavily pregnant, she gave birth to King Robert’s 1st grandson, also named Robert and the future king Robert II. Marjorie died just a few hours later.
Between 1315 and 1323 Elizabeth and Robert had 2 daughters: Margaret married William, 5th Earl of Sutherland and died in childbirth in 1346 or 1347; Matilda married Thomas Isaac and had 2 daughters, she died in 1353.
The much longed-for son, David, was born in 1324; he was married to Joan of the Tower, daughter of Edward II of England, in 1328 and would succeed his father at the age of 5, as King David II, in 1329.
A 2nd son, John, was born in 1327 but died young.
Elizabeth herself died on the 27th of October 1327 and was buried in Dunfermline Abbey; Robert the Bruce was buried beside her when he died 18 months later.
Pictures courtesy of Wikipedia.
The Story of Scotland by Nigel Tranter; Brewer’s British Royalty by David Williamson; Kings & Queens of Britain by Joyce Marlow; Mammoth Book of British Kings & Queens by Mike Ashley; Oxford Companion to British History Edited by John Cannon; Edward I A Great and Terrible King by Marc Morris; Britain’s Royal Families by Alison Weir; berkshirehistory.com; thefreelancehistorywriter.com; englishmonarchs.co.uk; berkshirehistory.com; educationscotland.gov.uk/scotlandhistory.
From Emma of Normandy, wife of both King Cnut and Æthelred II to Saint Margaret, a descendant of Alfred the Great himself, Silk and the Sword: the Women of the Norman Conquest traces the fortunes of the women who had a significant role to play in the momentous events of 1066. Available now from Amazon UK, Amberley Publishing, Book Depository and Amazon US.
Telling the stories of some of the most remarkable women from Medieval history, from Eleanor of Aquitaine to Julian of Norwich, Heroines of the Medieval World, is available now on kindle and in paperback in the UK from from both Amberley Publishing and Amazon, in the US from Amazon and worldwide from Book Depository.
©2015 Sharon Bennett Connolly | English | NL | 915a0935b5e6d1bcb63a8709f680377214f96714c23e212038a1dd82d57078de |
"Hey Shine! Why doncha read me one of those stories from the book Mama gave me?"
"What, right now?"
"Right right now, pretty please!"
"Alright. I guess we should start with the first one. Fittingly called Part the First. Ahem.
Once, trees grew from blood-soaked soil. After the gods slept, man and Pokemon fought against one another, killing millions, and only then, did their blood mix into the land. From there, they tried to co-exist, but did not entirely mix. Pokemon still could not fully understand man. Language and logic was separate, and so, their worlds remained separate, or so they thought.
In one corner of the earth, a human couple took one lonely egg from the mountain and kept it warm in their cottage. They could not bear children of their own, as the woman was infertile, however, after the egg hatched into a Bonsly, they took care of it as their own. Despite its nature, they adapted by airing out the cottage whenever possible, as Bonsly could not stay too damp, or else, die. Even when forced to hunt Pokemon to sustain themselves for the day in their rickety abode, they spent every other second looking after the Pokemon, so much so, the villagers grew distant from them.
At first, it only spoke in cries and moans. After spending a prolonged amount of time with them, however, they uttered their first word in the human tongue: love. A word abstract and immaterial to most Pokemon, but felt all the same by this one. Although this surprised the two, they welcomed Bonsly with open arms and passed their knowledge down to him, but nevertheless, remained cautious, and warned them to keep silent outside. The idea of Pokemon speaking human, for one thing, was an affront to nature, as it was not by the white god's design, which scared the settlers within their village. Beyond that, it was said that if Pokemon were allowed to speak, they would show themselves as the dominant species and break the great chain of being, and bring chaos unto the world.
By the time the Bonsly evolved into a Sudowoodo, sprouting to double its size, they could converse fully with their surrogate parents, and would question the world, their own existence, and everything both infinitely large and infinitesimal. Although they couldn't answer, the Sudowoodo's curiosity was boundless. They desired to explore the world at large, to see that giant ball of fire sink into the sea, to see campfires shine brilliant lights in empty woods, and to see flares shoot into the sky from wayward ships for Dragonite to drag to safety.
Despite their wishes, their surrogates would not allow their leave. They could not enforce it, only persuade against, and so, they obeyed, for the moment. While they slept, the Sudowoodo ventured outside and talked to the villagers, who reacted with ire and commanded their Pokemon to attack. They hid in plain sight by turning into a tree, allowing their escape. Once they returned home, however, their cottage was in flames. Their surrogates kneeled down in front of the chief, who summoned a pair of Houndoom at their feet from their binding spell, ready to attack. The Sudowoodo charged through the mob to meet their surrogates and pleaded with the chief, begging them to leave their loved ones alone. The chief only saw something unnatural, and commanded the Houndoom to fire. The Sudowoodo caught alight, in front of their parents who taught them the very thing that destroyed their home. Before they burned out completely, through the flames, the Sudowoodo stood in the middle of the mob's circle and spoke thus.
"You came with your swords, torches and predators, I came with my human tongue. I might be the first to speak your language, but I will certainly not be the last. These words will spread on like wildfire even after I burn out."
They turned to ash, as did their surrogates, and so, the village moved on while the cottage's remains laid still. The two Houndoom, however, learned to understand their master, and devoured them before fleeing that land, roaming the wild away from human civilization."
"Well, that was kinda depressing, but kinda cool too, like she used to tell me! Can we read the next page?"
"Go on. We have time before our next lesson."
"Thanks. I could listen to you read for ages, you know."
"Hm, I guess that's a good thing."
A white light shone into the space and soon enough, Shine's paws touched the floor once again as everything came back to him: the Claws that tore at his body, the air that smelled of sugar, and Curio. She stood to his right with her arms crossed, looking at one of the nurses, except it clearly wasn't Nurse Joy if the pink stubble was anything to go by.
"Well," Curio said in her distinct human tongue, "We free to go now? You've kinda been keepin' me here all night, with no good movies or anythin'. The entertainment's really weak here, you know."
"Um, okay," the male nurse said, "but everything looks fine, and his leg's healed up now, so go for it."
"Awesome." Curio headed out of the treatment bay through to the main hall with her satchel bag in tow, as Shine followed after her. His leg no longer burned when he applied pressure on it, but he shambled out of the room to try and catch up with her, eventually walking by her side. The sunlight beamed in from the windows at the entrance bay, so he must've been there the whole night.
Shine's heart pumped rapidly. He was finally alone with Curio and could ask about what happened at GeL and how she got on since then, but when he opened his mouth to speak, no words came out, even though his questions lingered on. Curio didn't respond either, walking out of the Pokémon Centre into Dendemille's daylight, and only when they were out, Curio stopped and turned to face Shine for the first time.
"Um, Curio?" he said.
"Yeah, it's me," she said with a frown, and knelt down to his level. "So, do you mind telling me what the hell you were thinking last night?!" She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently.
"I, uh, I was looking for you, I heard—"
"Yeah, I know that much. Barley said you went snoopin' around, and that's fine and all, but letting yourself become that Meowth's ransom shouldn't have been on your to-do list! So I'll ask again, what were you thinking?"
"Um." He pieced together last night's events quickly under Curio's gaze, and remembered he ran into the streets when he heard of her whereabouts, therefore leading him to the gang of diseased cats of his own accord. Finally, he let out a defeated sigh.
"Sorry, what I did was stupid. I looked for you all day and found nothing, so when Luccy told me, it must've gotten to my head. I had no excuse."
"You idiot." She looked scornful for a moment, then burst into laughter and wrapped her arms around Shine's body. "Stupid, crap for brains, idiot." She leaned in closer to Shine to the point where the tip of her spike touched his chest. Somehow, he trusted her enough not to impale him.
"Oh sunshine, it's good to see you again."
That nickname came back to him, as he suddenly remembered Curio used it on him during the facility days. He smiled and stood on the tips of his hindpaws, joining her embrace.
"And you. I don't even know where to start. Are you alright with that arm? What were you doing all this time? How did you end up here? Why—"
"Oh c'mon, we'd be sitting here all day if I told you everything." Curio released Shine and the two made eye contact again. "Besides, I've got places to be."
"Yeah, nothing important, so let's just walk and talk for now. That'll be a surprise for later." Curio stood and led the way as Shine followed by her side.
Again, he was at a loss for what to say. He glanced at a few of the passers-by on his side, who was surprised to see they paid no attention to the two strutting Pokémon, and in general, the citizens were less downcast and more eager to smile. Then he remembered how apprehensive they were around him when the Thousand Claws still inhabited the city and how Curio drove them out. That was a good place to start.
"Sorry you had to drag me to the Pokémon centre," he said, "I wish we met under less desperate conditions."
"Well," Curio said, "Them's the breaks, I guess. Hopefully we won't have to deal with those guys ever again. Hopefully."
"You mean you don't know?"
"Eh, they're slower than a buncha Slowpoke in a race, but I'm sure they get the hint."
"Still, it's amazing you knew exactly what to do."
"Wanna know something even more amazing? I didn't know. That was just a fluke as far as I'm concerned."
"Anythin' could've gone wrong. What was stopping them from just pouncing on me and killing me to take the bag right away, huh?"
Curio stuck her tongue out.
"They were so damn annoying. I couldn't find a place to sleep at night the first few days I was here. Even the police were on my tail even though I didn't do jack. I shook 'em off eventually, but before that, it was mostly rough sleeping, more than any other city I've been to in this region, 'til I found Barley."
"Well." He looked up at her. "I'd love to hear it all someday. It sounds like you've been on so many adventures already."
The disgust flushed itself from Curio's face and she flashed Shine a toothy grin.
"You bet. My weeks beat most people's years, both humans and Pokémon."
"Including jumping off of Jubilife Tower, apparently?"
"Eh, long story, but hey, we're here!"
Curio stopped outside a glass window with the silhouette of a Pikachu on a sign nearby. They opened the door with a bell ringing past them. As Shine walked in, he sniffed at the different scents of coffee beans, cheese and buttermilk wafting from the kitchen, and his stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten since his excursion to the inn the night before.
"Hold on just a second," Curio said, "They're upstairs."
"They?" Shine added.
A uniformed girl dashed out from behind the counter, and a Pikachu bounced behind her.
"Sorry," she said, "I've gotta run! Have fun!"
The Pikachu gave a shrill cry of goodbye as the girl exited the cafe, then turned to the two patrons and bounced up and down on the floor near Curio's legs.
"Curio!" he said, "Continuing lesson, yes?"
She nodded. Pikachu glanced at Shine briefly and scurried behind Curio, poking his head out with a perplexed look.
"Never seen Pokémon like that before! What are you?"
"A Luxray. My name is Shine. It's nice to meet you, fellow Pikachu."
"Ooh, Shine! Shine! Love that name!" Pikachu skittered across the smooth floor and climbed on top of the counter again, disappearing behind the workspace. Shine looked around the yellow painted insides of the cafe, marked with all sorts of scribbles on the walls, and the locals were focused on themselves, ignoring the presence of the Pokémon there.
"Nice place," he said.
Shine followed Curio to the counter where a tanned pudgy man leaned behind it, waving at her with a hairy arm.
"Ay!" he said, "What's the plan for today?"
"Same as before," Curio said. "Say, can you fix up somethin' for my friend here?"
The man peered over the bar and looked down to Shine, moustache twitching.
"Maybe, but that depends if his kind is lactose intolerant."
"Actually," Shine said,"I've had plenty of dairy myself and I can safely say I've never had any problems with it."
The man gave him a wide smile. "Just my luck, another one! Barley knows how to pick 'em!" He stopped to lift the bar stand and waved at the two, disappearing into the hissing coffee machines. Shine followed Curio into a barren looking break room with a low cut table in the middle and a small bed filled with plushes in the corner where Pikachu sat, and he joined Curio on the floor opposite the yellow rodent.
"So you're a teacher?" Shine said.
"You're givin' me too much credit, you know. I just go wherever Barley has work for me, talk to the Pokémon for a bit and get a day's grub out of it. I'd rather just be doin' my own thing, but eh, it beats hunting to get by."
"I know the feeling."
The two chatted idly until the pudgy man stomped in with a basket of croissants and laid them at the centre of the table, where the Pikachu jumped up to the edge.
"I'll get some water too!"
The man left the three Pokémon to their breakfast. Pikachu immediately tore into it, leaving a mess of flakes on the surface, while Curio took a few paws worth of croissants and laid some on the floor beside Shine while she attended to hers. When Shine nibbled at the tip of his croissant, he bit into a layer of creamy cheddar. He looked over to Curio with a wide eye.
"This is stunning!" he said as she held hers out.
"Right? I couldn't have picked a better place to teach if I tried!" She took a big bite out of one end and pulled back, making a string of cheese dangle from the middle of the pastry.
After Shine finished eating every last morsel of croissant he could and drank his fill from a bowl, he was full again. He yawned and felt satisfyingly tired; with the tingle of cheese still on his tongue and the sweet smells drifting in from the kitchen, he could have curled up into a ball and slept on the spot right there.
Before he lost himself in his reverie, Curio's knuckle rapidly rubbed at his head.
"You're one sleepy bugger, aren't you?"
"What does a creature like me usually do after it's had a nice meal? It's only natural."
"Eh, excuses. You know, you could leave if you don't wanna stick around."
"Not after finding you. I wouldn't miss this for the world." Of course, he hadn't told her about his plans to start teaching the Goodra back at Ambrette, but he put it aside for another occasion when he could speak to Curio about how he came to find her.
"Suit yourself." Curio shrugged and turned to Pikachu. "So, been trainin' recently?"
Pikachu tapped his rosy cheek with a thoughtful expression, and opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated, then opened it again.
"Little. Trainer young."
"Is she even allowed to do that yet?"
"No. Out school. Sometimes, train alone."
"What do you usually get to battle?"
"Street Pokemon. I battle. Mostly lose."
"It ain't easy when you're starting out."
"Feel small. Em..."
Pikachu stopped, scrunching up his soft, round face.
"Em-barr-ass-ing," Shine chimed in. "It's pronounced embarrassing." Pikachu gave Shine an unsure look, to which Curio leaned in and spoke in his ear.
"I'm not too hung up on that stuff yet," she said. "Just let him speak as well as he can and he'll get it right over time."
Curio pulled away from him and continued her conversation, the start of many to come. In the span of a few hours, they talked about things such as what Pikachu's to-be trainer did outside of school, what his relationship was with her father, also the owner of the cafe, what friends Pikachu made out in the town square, how he started using Curio's teachings to impress said friends, and a story about how Pikachu ended up being chased by a Purrloin at night and lived to squeak about it another day.
What Shine noticed about the way Curio spoke to her student was how she would let them go uninterrupted without correcting them for ages, despite their many odd pronunciations and grammar mistakes. Although he had the urge to interrupt, he suppressed it and thought about how he would go on to teach the dragon horde later, occasionally asking Pikachu a few questions of his own.
When the shift was over, Curio stood up and said her goodbyes to Pikachu as she exited out the back and Shine followed after her into the sunlight. They walked out of the alleyway as Curio dribbled a can down the road.
It was past noon and Shine still had a whole day and a bit left to get Curio to come back to Ambrette with him, which seemed harder the longer he hung out with her. She had a life in Dendemille, as she appeared to do well as a teacher, had built a reputation with the townsfolk, either positive or negative, and found plenty to do despite the town's rurality. Not once did she mention GeL during that whole talk.
"Fancy goin' down the park later?" Curio asked, interrupting his thoughts. "There's supposed to be a band there. It's free!"
"We could, but I need to tell you something important."
Curio kicked hard, sending the can flying into the air which landed in the distant streets.
"Oh boy, here we go. Out with it, then."
"It's about how I got here. Doesn't it seem odd to you that I just happened to be in Dendemille the same time as you?"
"Not really. Could've just been complete coincidence as far as I care."
"Well, it was no coincidence. I saw you got into a bit of trouble with those Claws in the news."
"I was in Ambrette Town at the time. As soon as I read what happened, I flew into Dendemille to try and find you."
Curio stopped short of entering the road where cars passed by, and knelt down to Shine with a questioning look.
"You don't have wings, do you?"
"No, but I looked all day to find you and-"
"Just cut to the chase, Shine."
"Oh, I," he stammered. "My trainer's doing research on the GeL facility and we need to interview you all the way back in Ambrette."
At that moment, Shine saw that look in her eyes for the first time in years, the way her pupils dilated, making them look as if they were lost in a sea of green. It was the first time since they reunited that Curio looked visibly fearful. Not even the confrontation last night stirred her. She exhaled, as if she was about to say something, but set her eyes back on the road, wordless. With that, he realised he just crossed a line. His approach might have been too direct, or that he essentially asked her to travel half the region with him unannounced, or that he reopened old wounds just with the mere mention of the word 'GeL', but for whatever reason, the fingers on her metal arm twitched mechanically, clicking with each micro-movement, then abruptly stopped.
"Crap." Her tone was flat and raspy. "I knew you were going to say that. Was that what you came here for, then, to dig up the past?"
"Absolutely not!" Shine protested. "I couldn't believe my eye when I saw you alive. After everything that happened, all I wanted to know was how you were doing all this time."
"Oh really? Do you even remember the time we spent there, all the times I looked after your scrawny ass, and the times you read to me in the library, and all that other stuff?"
"Why, I- I.." He faltered to find the right words. What Curio talked about did happen, but he only remembered those crucial moments in broad strokes, except for reading that book that previously belonged to her mother. "Some parts. My trainer-"
"Yeah yeah, I guess your trainer told you to come here and drag me over to him, huh? Just like any good Pokémon following its orders."
"I, um..." Shine's maw hung open. He knew Curio would be a little apprehensive to revisit her past, but this came out of nowhere.
"Shine, I need a moment alone. Meet me at that park later. Don't follow me."
Curio stepped into the road, passing through two lanes of cars that stopped suddenly in a cacophony of honks, with drivers shouting obscenities at her from open windows as she yelled equally vulgar insults at them in their tongue. Shine was about to run after her when the traffic continued, leaving him at that side of the road while Curio disappeared down the other. He was alone again.
For the next hour or so, he wandered aimlessly through the streets in the hopes he'd eventually stumble across Curio, but like yesterday, the streets were sparsely populated, and the townsfolk and their Pokémon drifted in and out with indifference. His thoughts bubbled, thoughts of what he should have said, what he shouldn't have said, the way he said them, all stewing in a cauldron of blame and self pity. His movements slowed and at a certain point, he stopped, ignoring the passers-by.
What stung the most was how suddenly it all happened, from Curio's transformation to her disappearing in seconds. He didn't know how the years changed her or how she moved on GeL, but he didn't expect for her to immediately reject his idea. He replayed the conversation back in his head, going back to the moment before Curio took off, then his eye widened. She not only said that, she also referred to Tony as 'him'. Shine continued walking, not paying attention to whoever was beside him. Why would Curio assume his trainer was indeed a he if Shine himself never said anything of the sort? There were three explanations. It was either coincidence, the power of her aura, or even worse, she had somehow met Tony before. How?
A weight dropped on Shine's back. He grunted, fumbling around for a bit before regaining his balance, and something tugged on the tufts of his back.
"Hey eye-guy!" It was the Quilladin from last night.
"Hello," Shine said, shaking his shoulders, "Would you mind getting off of me?"
"Mush, eye-guy, mush!" He pulled on his fur, making Shine thrash around in an attempt to shake him off. Before him, the familiar barbed tail swished in the air, meaning Barley had come along too, perched on the shoulders of his trainer, who stared at his phone.
"You don't want to be zapped, do you?" Barley said with a wink. The weight lifted off of Shine's back and Quilladin scurried away beside the trainer's legs.
"What are you all doing here?" Shine said, in human tongue in case the trainer had something of note to say.
"Curio told us there was someone playing at the park soon," Barley said, "We weren't that busy so we thought, why not?"
"I don't suppose she said anything else, did she?"
Barley shook his head. "She left. Again, she goes where the wind takes her. So I take it you managed to find her?"
"Yes, last night. She won't talk to me now, though. I must've upset her somehow."
"Well," Quilladin chimed in, "You better come along with us and give us the spicy details!"
Shine blinked. He was heading to the same place as them, and at that point, his legs were somewhat tired from dashing from place to place in vain.
He joined the group, following behind Barley and his trainer along with Quilladin who walked by his side. The two partners chatted to each other in human tongue, mostly about club matters, managing donations and partly about the local events the trainer found on the news. Although Shine couldn't tell how Barley came to learn to speak human, he was fairly fluent at it, although it was hard to tell what they were saying sometimes as they used a lot of lingo such as 'homie' to address each other. If he had to guess, his trainer probably taught him himself, though he wasn't certain.
"Hey," Quilladin said, turning Shine's attention away from the two. "So what's troubling ya?"
Shine moaned, thinking about how to phrase what happened. Even though GeL was the part that triggered Curio, he didn't want to tell anyone else about its existence yet. Again, he had to settle for a convenient half-truth.
"I asked her if she wanted to come back to Ambrette with me and my trainer, but she seemed really upset about the fact I was with one in the first place."
"Eh, chicks," Quilladin said, "To be fair, she wasn't too friendly with Barley's trainer either. The vibe of the room got really awkward when those two first talked, but they're fine now, so I dunno."
Shine hummed to himself. It wasn't surprising for her to be apprehensive towards humans, as he did when he first left. He looked in front of him and noticed the absence of a certain stick in the tail.
"Where's your friend?"
"Bleh." Quilladin squinted his eyes, baring his chipped fangs. "We're not friends anymore. He thinks he's all fire just because he can win a human's game."
"Ah, that's unfortunate to hear." It would've been more accurate to call Quilladin a sore loser, if that flipped table was of any indication, but Shine thought of saying otherwise.
They reached the park which had a full crowd this time with a mix of mostly young trainers and Pokémon sitting beside each other on the grass, and the stage had musical equipment set up, although the band members weren't present yet. When Shine went to sit with his group, he was surprised to see both the Pikachu and Leafeon together. He called over to them and the two scurried over to him, with Pikachu in particular pouncing on him, and licking his face, who couldn't help but laugh.
"You're tickling me, stop!"
Pikachu complied and Shine stood up again, looking at the two Pokémon. He questioned whether or not it was habit in Dendemille for Pokemon to pounce onto each other.
"I guess Curio told you to come here as well."
"Bingo," Leafeon said, then cocked her head. "As well?"
Shine turned his head to the other group, who were stood up. Pikachu looked up and beamed at the sight of Barley, who glided off his trainer's shoulder and joined claws with the electric rodent as the rest sat down.
After that, the group talked idly for what seemed like ages during the waiting period. Leafeon talked mostly about her situation with the caretaker, Pikachu talked about Curio's lesson with Barley, who relayed it back to his trainer, while Quilladin revealed his situation to Shine: his trainer was taking care of family matters out of town, whereas he chose to stay with Barley for a little bit while the dust settled. Plus, a little bit of unsuccessful flirting from Quilladin to Leafeon. Although Shine talked little about himself, listening to the others distracted him from his own head space and softened the blow of Curio's sudden leave.
The band counted in and the music started with a strong drum beat. It was nothing special as it was just generic rock, not even something he'd consider putting on the radio, but it was quiet enough to talk over, yet loud enough to enjoy. In the middle of the first song, Curio appeared from behind the bushes.
She made her way to the crowd, who swayed back and forth to the music, and started jumping in place, which eventually broke out into a dance. The crowd steered clear of her, obviously not wanting to get accidentally impaled, forming a circle around her. She didn't pay attention to the onlookers, or the little Pokémon that joined her jig by her feet, as she was occupied in her own world.
Seeing this play out in front of him, Shine forgot his present worries for the moment and couldn't help but smile. Curio was enjoying herself and didn't care what others thought of her. Shine felt a tinge of envy at this, as he wouldn't have drawn attention to himself that way, and couldn't have danced even if he wanted to since he wasn't bipedal.
He shook his head. Shine had more pressing issues to take care of. He needed to find out why Curio left him behind earlier and why she brought all the Pokémon to the park.
"She's got some moves, hasn't she?" Leafeon said.
"Er, yeah, sure," Shine said as he stood up. "I need to talk to her, I'll be back."
"I'll come with," Quilladin said.
"Me too!" Pikachu said.
The three joined the crowd and pushed past their legs to where Curio was. When they arrived, Quilladin joined inside the circle and mingled with the other Pokémon while Pikachu danced in place.
"Hey!" Shine called out to Curio as she spun in place. She didn't stop.
"Curio!" he shouted. She spun around and smiled.
"Oh Shine!" she said. "C'mon, dance!"
Curio picked him up by his forepaws and jumped around. His movements were unsteady, barely keeping himself balanced on the pads of his paws as Curio jerked him up and down.
"Why'd you bring us here?" he said.
"I said, why'd you bring us here?!"
"Sorry!" Curio said with a grin, "Still can't hear ya!"
"Dammit Curio!" he shouted, "I know you can read my thoughts, just tell me what's going on!"
The song ended. Curio stopped her dance, letting go of Shine, and frowned.
"Jeez, you're a downer today. Alrighty, lead the way."
Shine ran back to his earlier spot and the rest followed behind him as the concert continued in the background. Everyone was seated around Curio.
"That was amazing!" Pikachu said, who could barely sit down. "Can we do that again?"
Curio patted his head.
"After we deal with this guy." Curio turned to Shine, stone faced and serious.
"You heard me. Fight me. If you win, I'll come along with you and do your stupid interview."
"It's not stu-"
Curio raised her paw to stop him.
"If I win, I get to stay here. You got that?"
It took him a few seconds to realise what this meant, and when he did, it felt as if something hard had smacked Shine across the face.
"But, but that means I might never see you again!"
"Sure you will. I might get into a scrape or two after that and be in the news again. Who knows, I might make it on the front page someday! You'll find me that way!"
"That's not the point! I didn't come here to see you for the first time in ages only to have you disappear!"
Curio revealed her fangs. She narrowed her eyes, her left twitching as if it had a mind of its own.
"Yeah, now you know what it feels like, Shine! It sucks, doesn't it?"
"Ooooh!" Quilladin exclaimed.
He was at a loss for words. He could tell Curio was furious at him, but he couldn't pinpoint the reason why, as the memories of his escape were still fuzzy, except for the aftermath.
"Hey Pikachu, what's your face?" Quilladin chimed in. "Can you go get us some popcorn? I'm enjoying this lover's quarrel."
"In your dreams!" Both Curio and Shine said in unison. She laughed, and her expression lightened up a bit.
"That's my only offer, Shine. Besides, there's a battle park right by us. I've already got a spot for us to fight in when the third bell strikes."
"Lots of people will be watchin' too. I practically asked the whole town." She turned to the spectators who sat in stunned silence, especially Barley's trainer. "So basically, if you haven't been clued in, we're fightin' in that park, and you and every Pokemon are coming along to watch, kay?"
"We are?" all of them said.
"Yup, just so you can pick sides. Any one of you can be Team Curio or Team Shine. Preferably Team Curio."
"This is silly," Shine said. "What is this supposed to prove?"
"Nothin'. But you can always run with your tail between your legs if you don't want to face me. What's it going to be, Shine?"
Shine gazed at her with a wide eye. There wasn't once lick of irony in her tone or expression; she was really prepared to take every measure to put him in a difficult spot.
He gave himself a moment to process what he was about to do. He was about to enter in a fight with an old friend of his, with little explanation as to how or why she organised it, all in order for her to agree to his bargain. There was no way he would go back home empty handed, as his journey would've been for nothing. A part of him questioned how he would take her on considering she could read him like an open book, but when he decided what he would do, Shine presented his paw to Curio with a smile.
"I'm in," he said. Curio took his paw in hers and shook it firmly.
"Awesome." She let go. "Be there or be square."
Before Shine could ask her anything else, Curio left him and the rest of the gang behind, and Pikachu joined her to meet the crowd near the stage. When she started her dance again, Shine sighed and slumped to the ground.
He felt there was a deeper motive behind her carefree attitude. The way she was so dismissive of Shine told him she was actively dodging the question, either not wanting to deal with the GeL situation or was vengeful against him for some unknown reason. There was so much he needed to know he didn't get the chance to ask; how she got to Kalos was still a total mystery. However, if he wanted another chance to resolve those burning questions, he would have to defeat her in a fight, or lose his chance to recapture his past indefinitely. Shine took a deep breath. What had he gotten himself into? | English | NL | 0c694eca45918aa60d11696166ac7410603bf11dcc4113ae08523a91d16eae0f |
287 Beacon was designed by architect George A. Avery and built in 1881-1882 by Warren Dexter Vinal and Charles A. Dodge, masons, for speculative sale, one of two contiguous houses (287-289 Beacon). Vinal & Dodge are shown as the owners on the original building permit application, dated June 20, 1881.
The land for 287-289 Beacon was purchased on January 24, 1882, from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts by building contractor George Wheatland, Jr. The land originally was offered for sale by the Commonwealth at its auction on November 26, 1866, and dry goods merchant Eben Dyer Jordan, co-founder of Jordan, Marsh & Company, was the successful bidder for the seven 24 foot lots running west from 283 Beacon. He subsequently sold or transferred his rights to purchase the five lots at 283-291 Beacon, and by 1881 George Wheatland, Jr., held the rights to the lots at 287-289 Beacon. On August 10, 1881, he entered into a party wall agreement with John Francis Anderson, who held the right to purchase the lot at 285 Beacon. It appears that George Wheatland, Jr., entered into an agreement with Vinal & Dodge to build 287-289 Beacon on the land and, when they were nearing completion, he exercised his right to acquire the land from the Commonwealth. He retained the house and land at 287 Beacon and transferred the house and land at 289 Beacon to Vinal & Dodge, who then sold it.
Click here for an index to the deeds for 287 Beacon, and click here for further information about the land between the south side of Beacon and Alley 418, from Dartmouth to Exeter.
On September 15, 1882, 287 Beacon was purchased from George Wheatland, Jr., by Marian Glyde (Bigelow) Horton, the wife of coal merchant Henry Kenny Horton, Jr. They had lived at 7 Exeter during the 1880-1881 season.
They continued to live at 287 Beacon during the 1885-1886 winter season, but moved soon thereafter and were living at 9 Charles at the time of his death in December of 1887. By the 1888-1889 winter season, Marian Horton was living at 341 Beacon with her mother, Anna Smith (Miller) Bigelow, the widow of George Tyler Bigelow.
By the 1886-1887 winter season, 287 Beacon was the home of wholesale dry goods merchant Daniel Denny and his wife, Mary DeForest (Bigelow) Denny. They previously had lived at the Hotel Vendôme. They also maintained a home in Milton.
Daniel Denny’s unmarried brother, Clarence Holbrook Denny, lived with them. He was a wool dealer.
They continued to live at 287 Beacon during the 1887-1888 season, but moved thereafter to 8 Gloucester.
On September 10, 1888, 287 Beacon was acquired from Marian Horton by Dudley Bowditch Fay. He and his wife, Katharine (Gray) Fay, made it their home. They previously had lived at 227 Beacon. They also maintained a home in Nahant.
Dudley Fay died in February of 1921. In his will, he left 287 Beacon and their home in Nahant in trust for the benefit of Katharine Fay.
Katharine Fay continued to live at 287 Beacon. The Fays unmarried children – Rosamond Fay, Arthur Dudley Fay, a teacher at Fessenden School in Newton, and John Howard Fay, a medical student — lived with her.
Rosamond Fay married in July of 1922 to Henry Bernard Montagu, a British naval officer; after their marriage, they lived in England. John Fay married in July of 1926 to Madeline Thomas Beals and they moved to 108 Charles.
Katharine Fay and her son, Arthur, continued to live at 287 Beacon. In about 1935 she was joined by her daughter, Elizabeth Bowditch (Fay) McGann, the widow of Dr. Pierce Powers McGann. Prior to her husband’s death in October of 1932, they had lived at 307 Beacon.
Elizabeth McGann died in October of 1938. Arthur Fay continued to live with his mother until the early 1940s, when he appears to have made Nahant his primary residence.
Sometime prior to 1942, an additional story was added to the house.
Katharine Fay continued to live at 287 Beacon until about 1954.
On December 7, 1954, 287 Beacon was acquired from the trustees under Dudley B. Fay’s will by real estate dealer Samuel Wasserman, and on the next day he conveyed the property to Joseph Hunter, trustee of the J. Hunter Realty Trust. In January of 1955, Joseph Hunter applied for (and subsequently received) permission to convert the property from a single-family dwelling into twelve apartments.
On November 1, 1978, 287 Beacon was purchased from Joseph Hunter by real estate broker and investor Patrick J. Glynn and Garrett Griffin. On January 22, 1991, Patrick Glynn and Garrett Griffin transferred the property to themselves as trustees of the 287 Beacon Street Trust.
287 Beacon remained an apartment house in 2016. | English | NL | ce5794fdb9e33ed7d34a4940ce025a12a3f14ca88f973a23db380c154c494c8c |
But Ann Barnhardt doesn't do permalinks. So I'm taking her post whole and putting it here unedited, because I think it's that damn cool.
Meet St. Martin of Tours. He was a fourth century Roman soldier,
and like many, many Roman soldiers was also a convert to Christianity.
While he was yet being instructed in the Faith and before his baptism,
Martin encountered a homeless man begging in the cold. The beggar was
barely clothed in just a few rags. Martin, moved with compassion and
pity for the man drew his sword, also known as an ASSAULT WEAPON, and
cut his own cape in half, and gave half to the freezing beggar.
**I know this story seems completely unbelievable because everyone
knows that people who carry and wield ASSAULT WEAPONS are incapable of
anything like COMPASSION or CHARITY, but you'll just have to suspend
your disbelief on this one.**
That night, Martin had a
dream in which he saw Our Lord wearing the half of his cloak that he had
shared with the beggar. In his dream, Our Lord said to the angels,
"Here is Martin, the Roman soldier who is not baptized; he has clad Me."
Martin was received into the Church and went on to be a manful bishop who fought the heresy of Arianism.
St. Martin's cloak was kept as a relic and was carried into battle by
the French Army. The French would set up a special tent on field of
battle to house St. Martin's cloak. The word for cloak in Latin is
"cappa". The priests who took care of the cloak were thus referred to
as the "cappellani". Eventually, all priests charged with the care of
soldiers were called "cappellani". The Latin word "cappellani" became
"chapelains" in French, which eventually became "chaplains" in English.
How 'bout them apples?
St. Martin is one of the Patron Saints of Soldiers, as well as the Patron Saint of the US Army Quartermaster Corps, of which I used to belong two MOS ago. | English | NL | 75473fcb5902a89c07a2d92f3de2e57e0626dee41e750711cb05b2ad54c88928 |
Mabie-Todd Swan SF2, "T.R. Allerton", c.1931
My first vintage pen, an American Mabie-Todd Swan, 1930/1931, #2 nib (SF2) gold-filled, lever mechanism; with matching pencil.
I paid about £100 refurbished in June 2018, as a complete impulse-buy snipe on eBay. I had no idea what a good price for one of these was, but I just took a punt, and I love it. It’s in okay shape, and a little small for my hand, but the flex is beautiful.
I’ve had to have it serviced once since, as the lever mechanism failed. I’m not sure if it’s been fixed definitively, but it fills now.
I don’t use the pencil and don’t even have the right size lead for it. However, it’s nice to have the set.
I’m not a history/genealogy buff, but I was curious about the provenance of this pen. The only mention of “T. R. Allerton” I can find is a notice of his daughter’s marriage in 1932:
Mildred Ruth Allerton-Foondle died in 1994 (age 84), surviving her husband Merl (d. 1988, age 78), living in Benton Harbor their whole lives.
Tracking back from Mildred, her father was “Oscar R. (Raymond) Allerton”, born April 24, 1876 in Alliance, Ohio, originally a cabinet maker (on his WW1 draft card), then a superintendent at Benton Harbor Malleable Iron Works. It does seem strange that the paper lists him as “T.R. Allerton” (which matches the pen) when other records record Mildred’s father as Oscar. Maybe he had a nickname?
In 1931 he was 55, and in the 1930 census he was listed as living at 511 Heck Court (which seems to no longer exist – a scrubby corner of land, owned by the town), and having his own shop as a pattern maker (I think… the census handwriting isn’t absolutely clear). This tracks with an early retirement from the Iron Works which would warrant a nice gold pen, right?
Note, in the 1940 census, Oscar Allerton, a(nother?) pattern maker at the Iron Works, was listed as 63, born in Michigan. He seems to be living with his sister, niece and a lodger, rather than the larger family listed for Oscar R. He lived just around the corner from Heck Court, at 525 Columbus Avenue. It seems a bit coincidental, to be honest. Censuses back then didn’t seem too accurate…
Oscar died in 1953, aged 76-77, and was buried in Benton Harbor.
Benton Harbor Malleable was in trouble in the 1970s, closed the foundry in 1973, and was bankrupt by 1975 as far as I can tell, along with a lot of other heavy industry in the town. It’s now a golf course.
I’m not absolutely sure whether Oscar is the same as “T. R. Allerton” as on the pen, but I like to believe it. The dates of Oscar’s presumed retirement roughly match that of the pen’s date as a likely retirement gift. Of course it might’ve been someone else altogether.
Maybe he just hated the name “Oscar”; saying that, he called his son Oscar Jr… Now, if it was Oscar, his ancestry can be traced back to the Mayflower.
Anyway, whoever owned this pen, I love it, and I’ll continue to take care of it. I’m grateful they kept it pretty well. | English | NL | 036e5975c59b80e071bb30f06447183d024be5b2ff0f60c7f8b756d4f2107f6e |
Geographic Connection to Pennsylvania: Donora, Washington County
Stan ?The Man? Musial grew up in Donora and played his entire Hall of Fame career for baseball?s St. Louis Cardinals.
Awards: Baseball Hall of Fame
Stan Musial was born in Donora, Pennsylvania to Lukasz and Mary Musial. While growing up, Musial excelled in athletics and was determined to become a professional baseball player. He went on to become one of the greats in baseball history playing his whole career for the St. Louis Cardinals. Musial was not only a great baseball player. He was a great representative of the game and a role model for thousands. He avoided controversy and was a gentlemen both on and off the field. His life and career contradicted the notion that good guys finish last.
Stan Musial, often called “Stan the Man,” was born in Donora, Pennsylvania on November 21, 1920. Musial was the second child and first son of six children born to working class immigrants. His father, Lukasz Musial, was a Polish immigrant born in Warsaw and his mother, Mary Lancos, was the daughter of immigrants from Czechoslovakia. His father hated working in the mines of western Pennsylvania and was determined that his children would never have to endure such miserable conditions to make a living. The name Stanislaus was Anglicized into Stanley when Musial started school. It became apparent early on that Musial was an exceptional athlete. He played both basketball and baseball at Donora High School. Musial's basketball skills seemed to promise a college scholarship, but he had his heart set on baseball. In 1937, at the age of 16, Musial was offered his first professional baseball contract. Musial's father immediately rejected the offer, wanting him to finish high school and attend college. Musial was so distraught about his father's decision that his mother had to intervene in order to get his father's approval. Musial signed with the St. Louis Cardinals organization, much to the dismay of his fellow Donorans who wanted him to play for the Pittsburgh Pirates. On November 21, 1939, Musial married his high school sweetheart, Lillian Labash, who was pregnant at the time with the first of their four children. The course of Musial's career also changed during this time period. In August 1940, Musial was in the outfield when he tripped and fell heavily onto the point of his left shoulder. During that time, he was primarily a pitcher, but his Daytona Beach team had him playing centerfield so they could have the benefit of his bat on days that he wasn't pitching. Even though his throwing arm was still weak, his batting and base running skills got the attention of the Cardinal scouts. In one season, Musial had gone from being a dead-armed pitcher with a Class D team to the outfielder of one of the top major league teams of the day. Beginning as a $65-a-month Class D pitcher in his teens, Musial came to the major leagues in 1941 at the age of 20. He played 22 seasons for the St. Louis Cardinals before retiring in 1963 and was inducted into baseball's exclusive Hall of Fame in 1969. He won seven National League hitting championships, hitting over.300 his first 16 seasons in the major leagues and ending up with a career average of.331. He was selected National League Player of the Year three times and The Sporting News Major League Player of the Year twice. Sports Illustrated named Musial its Sportsman of the Year in 1957 and The Sporting News honored him as Player of the Decade 1946-1956. Musial held major league records for most extra-base hits and total bases. Musial's biggest day at bat came during a doubleheader at Busch Stadium in May 1954 when he became the first baseball player in history to hit five home runs in one day. Musial also respected the baseball public. He was liked and respected by teammates, opponents, and umpires. Musial was a positive influence on teammates and treated everyone equally, regardless of skin color or years of Major League experience. He made himself accessible to sportswriters and graciously signed autographs for fans. After he retired in 1963, Musial became a Cardinal Vice President, and published his memoirs the next year. He served as the general manager in 1967 when he guided his team to a World Series championship. He was appointed by President Johnson to head the U.S. Council on Physical Fitness. In 1968, the Cardinals honored Musial with a statue outside Busch Memorial Stadium, and he has a star on the St. Louis Walk of Fame. Musial was also involved with different business ventures, including restaurants, bowling alleys, and hotels. He overcame nervousness in public speaking to become an outgoing, popular speaker. In later life, Musial devoted much of his time to charities. He has worked for the Easter Seal Society, Muscular Dystrophy Association and a number of hospitals. For 20 years, he worked with St. Louis' Crippled Children. There are also scholarships in his name at St. Louis University, where a ball field is named in his honor. If he had anything to do over, Musial said he would have gone to college. “I had a basketball scholarship offer, but I chose baseball because I always loved baseball. Of course, it worked out very well. But I tell these young people to really get an education. It's very valuable these days. It's very important.”
Stan The Man Musial died on January 19, 2013, at the age of 92 in Ladue, Missouri.
The Man's Own Story as Told to Bob Broeg. New York: Doubleday and Company, Inc., 1964.
From Stash to Stan the Man. Columbia, MO: U of Missouri P, 2001.
Broeg, Bob. The Man's Own Story as Told to Bob Broeg. New York: Doubleday and Company, Inc., 1964.
Lansche, Jerry. The Man Stan; Then and No. New York: Bethany Press, 1977. | English | NL | ec0d45131d83710cc0e53f8d26d513427d9e2f80b7ec331f786ebe31b9612653 |
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Hawaii Five-0.
A little something to start off the year. Enjoy!
Love is a Minefield
N. J. Borba
A chilly gust drifted across the field.
Some willowy stalks of golden grass were windblown and bent. Others remained steadfast against the breeze.
The weather had turned a while back, abruptly reminding her of winter's chill. Late night temperatures that dropped just below freezing, the likes she hadn't experienced since before moving to Oahu. Now the cold seemed almost foreign to her, her body having plunged itself into that ubiquitous warmth with reckless abandon. Waves of bathwater Ocean - an endless blue - the surf lapping against her thighs as she dangled bare legs over her surfboard.
Catherine allowed her fingertips to brush lightly across the top of the tall grass as those memories faded. The grass nearly came to her waist, hitting her thighs, which were now covered in layers - cotton tights, wool pants. Tall shoots of meadow grass waved with the pull of the wind, moving gently - west to east. The same direction she'd moved upon the wind nearly seven months ago. Her journey from a small tropical island to a remote province nestled beneath the Hindu Kush.
The grass rustled again, but not from the wind - a sudden swush-swush of an object cutting through the field.
A dull thud of something against her shin caused her gaze to lower.
"That ball…" she whispered with the ghost of a smile haunting her lips.
She dipped down to pluck it from the grass. Brown wool pants, black scuffed boots, a well-worn cotton shirt and an ivory scarf she wore to cover her hair. Seven months. Twenty-eight weeks of living in the tiny village and she hadn't fully immersed herself in their culture. She remained keenly aware at all times that she was very much an outsider. Even though she spoke the language. Even though she'd helped them find the missing children. Even though she'd taken up residence and began to teach the very basics of literacy.
Catherine felt the weight of the ball in her hands. It was weathered, tattered and torn, but still functional. Still holding air.
Her eyes zipped across the field and spotted him.
"Najib," she spoke his name softly, seeing him two ways. As the quiet-curious boy she'd met seven years ago. And now as the young man he'd become, still trying to find his way.
He'd grown up quickly in the span of just a few months. Time spent with Taliban soldiers bent on altering his life to meet their desires. Months that had felt like years.
"What're you doing here?" she asked the fourteen-year-old. He was much taller now than seven years ago – even taller than her. His little boy body had filled out, dark hair having lost its curl and cut shorter. Long arms hung at his sides, tense at all times, fingers almost clenched into fists. Even two months after his freedom had been attained he still jumped at shadows, ready for a fight. "I thought you were going with your parents to the markets in Feyzabad."
The boy's head shook. "Too many crowds and the noise. I like it here. It's quiet."
His English was better than both his parents.
She tossed the ball a few inches up into the air and caught it again. "You want to pl…" she paused, knowing play was probably not the right word. He hadn't played since he was a boy, carefree in his far-off village before the world had closed in on him. "We could kick it around?" Catherine offered.
Catherine dropped the ball to her feet and let the inside of her right foot send the sphere skittering across the grassy field.
Najib was quite skilled with the ball. He kicked it back to her. He balanced it and bounced it on his knee – passing it hands-free one knee to the other. He stopped a high kick with his head, another with a shoulder. He dove for it like he was blocking a goal she'd tried to get past him. When he worked with the ball he looked to Catherine like a normal happy young man. But she could tell that road was still a long and twisty one.
"How are you doing today, Najib?" she asked after nearly a half hour of quietly kicking the ball with him.
The ball bounced from knee to knee again, "You've asked me that every day since I've been home," he replied, not really answering her.
"I know," she pulled on a genuine smile for him. "I guess I keep hoping to hear you say you're all right."
"So you can go home?" Najib wondered.
That response was a shock to her system, her stomach actually feeling queasy. "Why would you think that?"
"I know you miss your home," Najib kicked the ball to her again, "I hear you sometimes when you talk in your sleep."
Catherine stopped the kick with her left toe and passed it swiftly to her right foot for a return kick, "I don't talk in my sleep."
Najib used his broad chest to control her erratic kick. The ball dropped into the grass with a soft crunch, "Some nights I can't sleep," he revealed more to her than he had in months, "I don't want to wake my parents so I go for a walk through this field. I go out to the cabin where you sleep. I sit outside your window and make a grid like you taught me when I was a boy. I jump rocks in the dirt, in the dark. Sometimes I hear you," he revealed.
She licked her lips, feeling slightly exposed by the boy's admissions, "Do I snore?" Catherine tried to laugh it off.
His head shook, still solemn, "You say his name." He sent the ball back to her. "You cry."
A surprisingly simple twist of her left ankle caused the ball to shoot back toward him with precision she usually lacked in soccer, especially with her non-dominate side. Catherine watched the boy, how he moved stealthily through the field to reach the ball, how he let his candid words slowly work into her soul, "I hurt him," Catherine finally released that tiny confession to him – to the field, to the world. "I got him hurt. He wouldn't have been here if I hadn't come."
"You came here to help me and my parents," Najib replied as he took the ball into his hands. In a simple move to signify their game was over, he walked over to the tree on their left and sat down beside it. He turned the ball over and over in his hands, deft fingers and keen eyes. Najib looked up at her where she remained standing across the field from him, "He did the same," his voice carried over top of the grass, "He came here with you, to help you."
Her heart constricted for a moment. She walked to the tree and sat beside the young man. "It's a little more complicated than that."
"Adults always make things complicated," he voiced.
Silence stretched out between them, cut only by the smooth whistle of the winter wind.
Najib rested the ball on his thigh, one hand protective of it, "I was taken by Taliban soldiers and held for months," he stared at a blade of grass as he spoke, "I was taught to shoot weapons and wield a blade. I was shown how to make IEDs. I was starved, tortured - forced to watch other boys my age die because they refused to cooperate."
She wasn't prepared for the sound of those words, or the weight of them.
"Those things were complicated," he continued with a degree of wisdom that most never achieved in their lifetime. "Adjusting to a normal life again is very complicated." Najib turned his dark eyes to her, looking past the façade she put on for everyone else in the small village of his birth, "Loving someone is not complicated. It is the easiest thing there is. Loving my parents is what kept me alive. Wanting to return to them is what kept me alive."
Tears pricked her eyes as he spoke, as his words sunk into her head and her heart.
"Easy," he said with the closest thing to a smile as she'd seen since his return, "Easy as kicking this ball."
A cold breeze kicked along the dirt track that headed into the village.
Last time he'd been there the road was dusty, now it was hardened by frost. The village still lay a good mile or so in the distance but he could make out thin tendrils of white smoke billowing upward from chimneys. There'd been no horses available after his bus ride from the airport so he walked the rest of the way. It felt good to walk, to breathe deeply, to stretch his legs and his mind. A thick wool jacket he'd picked up in the city covered his shoulders and arms. But the cold wind still cut through his Hawaii-born body.
Steve hadn't experienced winter in years, not since he'd visited his Aunt Deb for Christmas 1996 at her cabin in Yosemite.
He took a left turn as the pistachio orchard came into view, the one he recalled Catherine taking a shortcut through the last time. He followed her path, walking another few minutes until the orchard gave way to a grassy meadow. The field where they'd found Amir slumped against a tree. The field Catherine had told him about nearly dying in. The grass was as high as his knee and it moved lazily in time with the wind. One blade lead the way and all others followed.
A sudden disturbance caused the grass to skitter in two different directions. A ball emerged from the tall thicket and rested at his feet.
He crouched a moment and plucked the worn object from the ground.
As he stood, Steve scanned the horizon. "Salam… hello," he greeted the young man that stood near a tree. "You're Najib." Steve didn't question it. He knew.
He drop kicked the ball back to the young man.
The boy regarded him with a critical eye, weighing his words carefully. "She sleeps across the field," Najib pointed over his shoulder, "In the old stone mining cabin, away from the village." He bounced the ball against his left knee once, twice before skillfully transferring it to his right knee – up then down, up then down.
Steve got caught up in the repetitive motion.
After a few minutes Najib tucked the ball beneath one arm, turned and led Steve to the edge of his village.
The boy sat down in front of the old stone well. Bits of cloth and string were already laid out upon the ground as the ball was held steady in front of him between his knees.
Steve dropped his pack and leaned heavily against the well. He watched the boy work with the sturdy fabric, expertly binding the edges of each pentagon on the soccer ball. They alternated in random color from dark brown to tan, to red to white. "What's that tool?" Steve asked as he noticed the sharp metal spike that was used for the binding.
"A scrap I found and molded," Najib replied. "Like all of these things are scrap," his left hand rested against the ball to hold it in place, "I've had the same ball for seven years. I patch it. I cover up the worn and torn spots. I cut off the strands that fray. But underneath it is the same. The ball my father saved for months to buy me. The thing I kick and kick, and patch and patch. The thing I love. What I dreamed about coming home to."
Steve thought the boy spoke like a poet wrote, "How is she?" he finally asked.
Najib looked up, his dark eyes meeting with the gray-blue ones of the outsider, "Confused."
That response dug into Steve's gut. "She wanted to stay, her choice."
"She hides," the boy said in the simplest terms possible. "I know what that's like. I hide. I hide in that field all day sometimes. I kick and I kick, I chase and I hide," he concluded.
Steve nodded absently, allowing the boy's meaning to roll over him like a wave that takes you by surprise. A wave that causes you to sputter and stumble. A wave that lets you know it's so much stronger than you could ever hope to be. "I hide, too, Najib. I hide. We all hide."
The boy almost smiled, grateful for the man's honesty. "She misses you."
"She told me not to wait," Steve sighed, his chest rising and falling.
With his last patch in place, Najib stood. "Then why are you here?" he finally asked.
"Because…" Steve's head shook, not sure why he found it so easy to talk to the boy, "I know I'm never going to be happy waiting for her. And I know I'm never going to be happy moving on without her. I'll only ever be happy with her."
"Tell her." Najib walked away, slipping back into the field, the tall grass engulfing him.
Steve left his pack and trotted after the young man. "It's not that easy," he said, watching as Najib bounced the ball against his knee again.
The boy let the ball fall to his feet. He kept it close as he put more distance between himself and Steve. Then he pivoted and kicked the ball directly at the man.
With a quick bit of footwork, Steve managed to follow the ball. He stopped it with the inside of his left foot and promptly rolled it onto the top of his boot. Steve balanced it there for a moment before sending it upward. It launched upward a few feet and he kicked it on the downward. The ball shot across the field toward Najib, practically floating atop the frail tall grass. Steve marveled as the boy hustled toward the shot that had gone wide. Najib launched himself to the right and dove to kick it seconds before it was due to hit the ground.
His body collided softly with the grass, rolling out of what could've been a hard fall.
"You play on any sort of team?" Steve asked, more than a little impressed. "I don't think I've seen moves like that outside of professional play."
"I practice a lot," Najib stated. "No teams here. My friends who played with me when I was little have moved away. This is one of the world's most desolate places, but my parents love this land. They won't leave. They couldn't leave even after the Taliban came here to take me. They stay because it's home."
"But you could go," Steve suggested, "There are schools that would give you scholarships for the way you handle that ball."
Najib nodded, "I know. I'll leave someday when I'm ready."
Steve smiled, "That easy, huh?"
"Many things are easy, Steve," the boy replied, "Unless you make them hard."
Those words seemed to come out of a mouth much older than the fourteen-year-old he knew Najib to be, "How do you know my name?"
He bounced the ball on his left knee again, "She says it in her sleep."
Only a sliver of purple-orange sunset remained as he retrieved his pack.
Steve had kicked the ball back and forth with Najib until the light had faded. Now he walked slowly across the field, grass making a hushed swish-swish against his cargo pants. His boots crunching along a well beaten path, her path. A rivulet of white smoke wafted upward from a stone structure that looked to be ten by twelve feet at the very most. A wooden door, gray and weather-beaten, looked about ready to fall off its hinges.
He knocked and waited.
Her motorcycle was propped against the outer wall.
A single window to the right of the door was illuminated by a soft golden light inside.
Steve knew someone was in there.
"Najib…" he heard her voice, the same lilt he'd know anywhere. "You don't have to come get me for dinner every night. I have a flashlight and I know how to find…"
In the open doorway her arms immediately crossed over her chest as she drew a thickly knit cardigan sweater tight against the chill of evening. Catherine had been expecting the boy, the only person in the village who ever cared to come calling on her at the cabin. Amir and Farah welcomed her into their home each night for a meal, but they never came for her. They gave her the space she had asked for upon deciding to stay.
"Hey, stubborn," he greeted.
She couldn't stop the huge smile those words brought to her lips, or the way her arms left her side to wrap around him. Her immediate response to seeing him was always a hug, no matter the time or distance or reason that had come between them. Catherine let her body sink into his, his arms feeling as familiar to her as her own skin. Her tears were the only surprise, but she brushed them aside as she backed into the warmth of her small shelter.
"Steve, what… what are you doing here?" She didn't mean the question to sound rude as she ushered him inside.
His bag was plopped on the ground atop a small rug that covered a dirt floor. Steve tried to find the right words, but all that came out were, "I didn't notice it before, maybe because there was no time to notice, but… you can't smell the ocean out here. Don't you miss that?" he asked.
Catherine stared at him for a moment that slipped into two.
He glanced around the tiny space in order to fill the silence. There was a thin mattress in the left corner, barely larger than twin size. It rested upon an old wool rug. Two quilts were piled atop it, one turquoise and the other a charcoal shade of gray. A rusty metal cabinet resided at the end of the bed, two doors and one drawer. Boots rested beneath it, which caused his eyes to roam to her feet. She wore thick wool socks woven of red and black yarn.
"This place is…" he looked left then right, "Where do you pee?"
She aimed a thumb over her shoulder toward the door and smiled.
His fingers brushed along the jagged stones of a fireplace - small opening in the wall, two logs ablaze. One heavy timber a few feet up acted as a mantle. Three lit candles sat upon it.
"Grace was at my place two nights ago while Danny and Amber went out," Steve began again, "She was planning her New Year's resolutions and one of them was to do a better job of staying in touch with you." He shrugged. "The next morning I was on a flight here, because I don't care if you left me or I left you. I care about what feels right, and trying to stay in touch doesn't feel right," he took a step toward her, one hand on either side of her face. "Only this feels right."
Eye closed. Their lips met, parted, embraced. Trying to remember the past, trying to forget the past.
She gnawed her bottom lip as they broke apart. Her palms pressed casually against his chest, feeling the thump of his heart beneath a heavy layer of wool jacket, "There's a fourteen-year-old boy across the field that is smarter than I could ever hope to be," her left hand motioned to the window. "He believes love is easy - that adults complicate it. He's right. We pervert it. We use it as a crutch or we think we're not worthy of it."
"But we are worthy, Cath," he touched her cheek again, her neck, gently caressed her earlobe with the pad of his thumb, "Aren't we?"
It was hard not to fall into his embrace again, hard to avoid him in such a tiny space. She turned toward the fireplace. One finger brushed featherlike across her lips and the memory of his that had lingered there a moment ago. She gently placed another log on top of the ones that had died down to a meager flame. Still squatted by the fire, she turned and looked up at him, firelight dancing in his eyes, "I broke up with you over the phone."
Steve nodded, "Just one of the many things to add to my crappy yearend list. Left by you, shot… that whole ordeal with Wo Fat."
Catherine got to her feet again, still facing him. Now at least two feet of space created a chasm between them, "Which is why you don't need my shit thrown on top," she insisted.
"Says who?" he countered. Steve stepped closer. "Maybe I want your shit."
"You want my shit?" a smile perched in the corners of her mouth, waiting, watching.
He reached out and took her hand, his rough fingers clasped her impossibly soft ones, "I at least want us to talk about your shit, and mine," he insisted. Steve guided her three feet to the left toward the only seating he could find. They settled onto the low bed, pushed their backs against the cold stone wall. He let his thumb skim along her neck again, pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, "You told me not to wait for you so I didn't," Steve smiled. "I got on a plane and I'm here."
Her forehead rested on his shoulder, the memory of him each night never as good as the real thing. They sat like that for a half hour, the fire warming their weary bodies.
Steve kissed the top of her head, "Talk to me," he encouraged. "What went wrong? It felt like something ended between us when we said I love you. I want to fix that."
Catherine sat back, eyes widened, "Maybe nothing needs to be fixed. Maybe that was just the end."
"I don't think you believe that," he wanted his words to be true, wanted to make her fight. He'd never known her not to fight.
Her head shook, a fire burning beneath her chest. An ache that she thought could be stopped by staying thousands of miles away.
"Maybe it was the end of the beginning," Steve had never been the confident one in their relationship before, but she was worth fighting for. Worth two long flights, a bus ride and a walk in the cold. Worth the torture and pain the Taliban and Wo Fat had inflicted. "We've changed, Catherine. We're not the same people we were when we first met, or even the couple we were seven months ago," he acknowledged. "People change and that's okay. No one can stay the same."
She swallowed, cleared her throat, tried to swallow again, tried to find words, tried not to love him more than she already did, "It took us years to say those words and the first time was over the phone with thousands of miles between us after an awful ordeal."
"So that was an ending," he agreed again. "And this can be the start of something else," Steve offered, unsure of each syllable.
"Something else?" Catherine questioned.
"Something better," his shoulders gave an uncertain shrug, "We can hope it'll be better. We can make it better if we fight for it." He could tell she was still reticent, "What are you doing here, Cath?" Steve wanted to know. "Najib thinks you're hiding." He watched the questioning arch of her brow. "We played a little ball, talked."
That made her smile. That made her talk.
"Literacy rates here in Badakhshan province dropped from thirty-one percent in 2005 to twenty-six percent in 2011," she launched into facts, tangibles. "Military has set up tons of education facilities in Afghanistan but not out here. People here are isolated. Najib and the other children that were taken woke this sleepy village up. They want to be aware, they want to learn. The children here crave knowledge. They come every day to the small school hut with wide eyes and open minds."
He could see the fight return to her in those words, see the lightness in her eyes as she spoke, "I never imagined you as a teacher before," Steve was honest. "You kick ass, you find out other government's secrets… teaching is…"
"Probably the noblest job there is in the world," she answered.
"Can't argue that," he was quick to reply. "So is that why you're here? To teach?" Steve pushed.
She took a deep breath, "I'm not sure."
He nodded but didn't say anything more, waiting for her.
Catherine left his side, padding across the cold dirt floor in socked feet. She stood in front of the fire again, using a stick to stoke the burning log, breaking off embers to ignite the new ones underneath. When the flames licked the old stones again she turned to him but remained standing, "I wasn't ready," she whispered. "I was a good officer. I was good at knowing what I had to do every day, having that mapped out for me. Finding my way in the world is hard. It's not black and white like it is in the service."
Steve sighed, "I know." He beckoned her back to bed with just one hand extended. She folded herself into his embrace again. This time they lay close, stretched out along the narrow bed, his chest against her back, one arm across her waist, chin on her shoulder, "I know that Billy's death right out of the gate didn't help matters and I tried to be there for you. Maybe I should've better prepared you for retirement. But I've been struggling, too. I feel like nothing makes much sense."
"I lied to you the last time we talked," she twisted in his arms onto her back, needing to look him in the eye, "I told you I'd found my place here, but I haven't. I don't fit in here, but it feels easier to stay here than to face going home." She noticed a subtle shift in his gaze, "What?"
"The way you just mentioned staying here or going home," one arm remained draped across her belly, fingers gripping the thick woven hem of her sweater, "You still think of Oahu as home. And earlier when Najib directed me here he said that this was where you slept. He didn't say this was where you lived, just where you slept."
"I told you he was smarter than I'll ever be," she smiled.
"So what do we do?" he wasn't going to let her off the hook so easily, "Break up for good? I don't want that and I don't really think you want that either," Steve was pleased to see her head shake, but he knew there was a lot more to work out, "You stay and I go home and we talk and we text?" He watched her smile fade into the dim light. "You stay and I stay with you?" he wondered. "Because I will. I'll make this my home with you if you want.
Catherine frowned, "What do you want?" she finally asked.
"I want to be with you," after years of thinking he wanted to be alone, live alone, he'd finally discovered the truth, "If this is where you're going to be then this is where I'll be. Even if that means living here with you in this drafty-ass freezing cold mining cabin," his arm squeezed her tighter, fingers pushing past dense wool to caress her bare waist.
An amused laugh graced her lips, "What would you do here?"
"I'd start with insulating these walls," he grinned, "Maybe even add a proper bathroom with a nice tub for soaking because I know you'd like that. That means I'd have to dig a long pipeline across that field from the well in the main part of the village. That all will take at least a couple months. After that I can help you teach, or train these villagers to fight if you think that's what they need. Or maybe I'll coach a soccer team."
She smiled teasingly, seeing him in a very different light, "You know nothing about soccer."
"So I'll learn," he kissed her neck. "If I get to come home to you every night and snuggle beside you in this freezer cabin, I'll learn."
Her eyes shut, wanting to believe they could survive and be happy in a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere, "But your taskforce, your friends…"
"They're your friends, too, Cath," he reminded her. "Mary and your parents, our friends… they'll miss us. But they'll write and call. And we'll visit them and they'll visit us here."
The fire popped loudly, echoing through the small space. She reopened her eyes and checked to make sure the embers hadn't caught her rug ablaze. Catherine turned to him again, watching as shadows danced across his stubble covered chin, "You sound serious."
"I am," there was no hesitation in his voice.
"It's not safe for you here," worry rushed in, "If the Taliban were to find you they'd…"
"Wo Fat got to me on the island, Cath," he pointed out, "Nowhere is safe. I'd rather be here with you in unsafe territory than anywhere else without you."
She closed her eyes again as his fingers slowly began to unbutton her sweater.
Sunlight poured in through the small window by the door.
The fire had died down to a few scattered orange embers as dawn broke.
Catherine squinted as tiny dust particles floated across a sunbeam, a sharp contrast between sunny blue sky and the deep chill still in the air. She felt the warm weight of Steve against her and remembered the night. They'd kissed, caressed, talked for hours - fallen in and out of sleep while mostly clothed. But their bodies had become fully naked at some point in the quiet darkness. Insistent tugs, desire alight, panting in time with the flicker of firelight.
His eyelids fluttered open and he reached for the watch he'd banished to the floor during the night.
Steve smiled, "Local time… 0730 January first, 2015," he tossed the watch aside again and rolled to his right, cold nose pressed against her cold nose, "Happy New Year, Catherine."
"Happy New Year, Steve," she whispered a reply that was soon cut off by his tender kiss.
A second later he leapt out of bed and hopped around the tiny cabin, rubbing his hands together back and forth, "Damn, Cath… it… is… freezing," his teeth chattered.
"And this is going to work for you, living here? You'll turn into a Popsicle," she chuckled, ogling his naked tushy as he shimmied on a pair of navy blue boxer briefs. "Why don't you come back to bed before something important freezes?"
"Can't," his head shook as he tossed clothes to her, panties, sweater, leggings and ridiculously thick socks, "Get dressed," Steve ordered, "I want to show you something."
Ten minutes later he walked her outside into the morning air, chilly but not a hint of wind. Calm. Crisp. New.
They wandered off a short distance into the grassy field and for a long time she just stood there beside him, not sure if there was something more he planned to show her. Catherine could see the village waking up, a few old men who sat in the same spot every day selling their meager offering of chicken eggs while they mostly chatted the day away. Finally she turned to him, a look of surprise spread across her face, "You're right, you can't smell the ocean from here. I do miss that."
She took a deep breath as he remained quietly by her side.
"Do you remember when I told you about retrieving Najib's ball?" Catherine caught the slight nod of his head, "That was here in this field. I cared about that boy enough to make sure he was safe from harm. I didn't even know his name, but I cared," she recalled wistfully. "That's love. A minefield you stumble blindly through without knowing what lurks beneath the grass. Each step scares you more than the one that came before. Sometimes you get blown up, but if you're lucky you heal and venture out again into the field."
He watched as the sun rose steadily above the tall grass, illuminating each spindly stalk. Some were bathed in pink light, others splashed with orange. "I thought you told me they cleared this field of mines back in 2010," his logical brain kicked in.
"You're ruining my analogy," she chuckled, pushing gently against his chest.
Steve turned to face her, one hand at her waist and the other sliding along her forearm to caress the delicate fold of skin at the junction of her elbow, "Only you, Catherine Rollins, would compare love to a minefield." He kissed her slowly as the sun beat against their faces, "And I love you for that," he whispered against her lips.
She wore a content smile as his palms pressed against her back, "If I go home with you and decide to go back to school to become a teacher… would you support that decision?"
"Are you kidding?" he scoffed, "I'd support you if you wanted to join the circus. I love you, Catherine. I love you so much that I'm here in a tiny Afghanistan village that no one outside of it has ever heard of, willing to coach soccer and live in a drafty dirt-floored cabin with you. Willing to let our babies run around in diapers through a grassy minefield. I love you," he reinforced, "If you want to be a teacher on Oahu I'll love you. If you want to stay here and be a teacher I'll love you. If you want to stay and want me to go… I'll still love you."
Her eyes narrowed on him, skeptical of only one sentence in his declaration, "Babies?"
He shrugged - a crocked, uncertain grin in place, "It could happen."
Steve sunk into the field, one knee pressed against the grass as he fished something out of his jacket pocket.
"What are you…" Catherine's breath hitched when she noticed the ring. "Steve?"
"I bought this at a jewelry shop in Kabul shortly after I landed yesterday," he relayed, "I was walking down the street to the bus station when I saw this ring in a window and it reminded me of you. Delicate gold band with a tough as nails diamond at the center." Steve looked her in the eye, "It's a new day, Catherine - first day of a New Year - and I want to spend all my new days with you. Either here or back on Oahu, babies or no babies. Nothing's a deal breaker for me," he vowed.
Catherine blinked back tears, her vision slightly blurred by them.
"Will you marry me?" he finally realized the question hadn't been asked.
One tear worked itself free, trailing down her cheek, "I love that you're willing to stay here with me, but Najib was right," she admitted, "I've been hiding out here. I've been sleeping here. Not living. I almost died in this field. Maybe I should've died in this field, but I didn't. Because a stranger risked his life for me. Yet I've been too stupid and afraid to risk walking through this field to find my way back to someone I love."
"So I walked through it for us," Steve shrugged, "And nothing blew up."
"Nothing blew up," she laughed through her tears. "Is that the best we hope for these days, nothing blowing up?"
"Is that a yes?" he wondered.
She gave a slow nod, her smile returning, "Yes, God help us… yes, I'll marry you."
Steve nervously slipped the diamond ring onto her finger with care. He caressed the gold band, pressed his lips against her finger before standing.
Her arms circled his neck, a quick kiss and a longer embrace.
A familiar swish-swooshing caused them both to turn around in time to see a ball parting the grass in front of them.
Catherine stopped it and rolled it beneath her boot. She looked up to see the ball's owner standing by the tree. Sunlight peeked around the barren winter branches to illuminate his dark eyes. "How are you doing today, Najib?" Catherine called out to him. With a gentle kick she sent the ball skittering back through the field to him.
His gaze flicked from Catherine to Steve as he immobilized the ball in front of him.
He noticed something glint in the morning sunlight.
He watched her hand skim across the top of the grass, saw Steve's hand reach for hers. Two hands clasped in a minefield.
"I'm all right," the boy finally answered, knowing she was headed home.
Najib kicked the ball to Steve who kicked it back to Catherine. | English | NL | 86b3b2d218a77e5e16cda615fd5240e1f23862504217b8eab6a5b09628e8761e |
Could the simple solution for narcotic addiction be an iPod and some headphones? Researchers from Queen Mary University of London have conducted a study saying yes, it can. In the past 20 years the amount of pain killers prescribed has almost tripled. These narcotics are highly addictive and are often misused, especially when they are given out so easily. I had ACL surgery last year and was amazed at the amount of extra pills I had left over when I was feeling better. It would have been incredibly easy for me to keep taking the pills when I didn’t need them and become addicted, or to sell them to someone who is already addicted.
The study used various types of music; pop, country, rap, classical, etc. They also played it at different times of the possess, whether it be before, during, after, or all three. Another variable was the delivery method of the music; speakers or headphones. They found that the most pain was reduced when patience listened to music before the operation. The effectiveness decreased the later they listened to it, after the operation being the least effective. A wide range of surgeries were used, be it a simple colonoscopy to an open heart surgery.
One key variable was not affected in the study; no matter what variable was changed their hospital stay stayed the same. So, they found if patients listened to music their pain was reduced but they spent the same amount of time in the hospital. If I was to have surgery, I would absolutely choose to listen to music. Why suffer through more pain if there’s the possibility that doing something as simple as having earbuds in could cause less? | English | NL | 2946d0e45c419148da82dd6a62b4d25b71e2fa54b05cf223b16f6b9d9871e049 |
So, this is a very significant chapter, and it begins, “Now a certain man was sick, Lazarus of Bethany.” By the way, that is a shortened form of a very common name. It is from the name ‘Eleazaros’. It was a common name, and some compare it with the narrative in Luke chapter 16, the parable about Lazarus and the rich man, but there is no reason to think this is a retelling of that parable. It was a specific parable showing the need to respond to the work of God, whereas this particular story is not a parable but a historical reality that demonstrates, in fact, the authority of the Son of Man over life and death. Continuing, “Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. It was Mary who anointed the Lord with ointment, and wiped His feet with her hair, whose brother Lazarus was sick.” That is an interesting word because we don’t see that happening until the next chapter. This is an intimation here that John actually assumes people were already familiar with that narrative from the Synoptic Gospels. He assumes that people have already read that. This is really a supplemental Gospel in that regard. We well know stories about Mary. We see Mary in the Gospel of John three times at the feet of Jesus and I will comment on that later.
But, Mary and her sister Martha and Lazarus were, in fact, very, very deeply beloved of Jesus. In fact, Jesus used that location, Bethany, as His point of departure in His Judean ministry, just as He used Capernaum as His point of departure in His Galilean ministry. “So, the sisters sent word to Him, saying, ‘Lord, behold, he whom you love is sick’.” Now, here we have a surprise because in verse four, when Jesus heard this He said, “This sickness is not to end in death, but for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified by it.” By the way, you will see a parallel here with John chapter nine. You recall they asked a question about the man blind from birth and said, “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he would be born blind?” Jesus answered, “It was neither that this man sinned nor his parents; but it was so that the works of God might be displayed in him.
We must work the works of Him who sent Me.” It is not the idea here that God is responsible for diseased and a death filled world in which we find ourselves, because we are the ones who change the world in a very real way. We are not as we were created. We were created perfect, but we have distorted that, and that virus of sin has been transmitted generation to generation and it has affected the whole of the created order. Still, we see though, that there is nothing in this world that can separate us from the power of God and His power will not be thwarted by any force, either in heaven or under the earth, neither angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nothing will be able to separate us from that work of God.
“For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:38-39 (KJV)
So, Jesus says, “This is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified by it. Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.” The same word, by the way, that is used here and only here, the only other place this is used is of the disciple ‘whom Jesus loves’, so it shows the tremendous intimacy that He had with this family and John.
We don’t know that they were living together in that same house. In those days people had extended families much more than we do today. They were often on an intimate basis with first and second cousins and it was a very natural thing. It was very communal in that regard. Our idea about the extended family is rapidly diminishing because of the modern conditions. Furthermore, we are also losing the intergenerational connect as well, and that is a tremendous loss because the wisdom of the elderly is now relegated to nursing homes. We farm them off to retirement city rather than being embedded within the contest of the family where they can nurture and give wisdom to the children. It is a great pity that we are seeing in our own time.
So, the text goes on to say, “When He heard that he was sick, He then stayed two days longer in the place where He was.” Now, that is quite surprising. The disciples probably didn’t question this at first because if He went up to Jerusalem He would be in big trouble. As you know, Bethany is only about a mile and half east of Jerusalem.
He couldn’t go to Bethany without word getting out in Jerusalem. Recall that there had been an awful lot of trouble beforehand. Think about the whole imagery here of the controversies that Jesus had and the growing tensions that He experienced. At the autumn feast of the tabernacles the authorities tried to arrest Him. Recall also that at one point a crowd tried to stone Jesus. A few months later, at Chanukah, they tried to arrest Him again and there was also a threat of stoning.
So, His disciples thought it was good judgment that He went east of the Jordan River. But, they had no clues as to what was going to really happen. So, He stayed two days longer where He was.
Now, from our point of view, such an action would seem to contradict the love of God, wouldn’t you say? Did you ever have an experience where God’s action in your life seems to go against the love that we would expect from God? God’s love, we must remember, is not a pampering love but a perfecting love. God understands, as we need to understand, that love, and suffering are not incompatible. That is most clearly illustrated in the life of Christ. This suffering in the present time really is one of the ingredients that God uses to prepare us for our eternal citizenship in heaven. We have to understand, then, that the way it ends really determines whether it is a comedy or tragedy. Of course, the way it ends, it ends well.
So, God uses that as the material to draw us to Himself and that is exactly what each person needs. I have often said we need to be more committed to obeying God than to avoiding pain. That is a very important principle for us to pursue. A pain-avoiding strategy is an end in itself and only leads us away from God and not toward Him. It will cause you avoid obedience and trust. The problem is that we are often more concerned about our comforts than our character.
So, we go to what Larry Crabbe calls the ‘line of linearity’, which supposes that if ‘I do my part, God has to do His part’.
So, we use God as kind of a cosmic slot machine. When you go to a vending machine, what do you do? You don’t embrace the machine, you put your money in and you pull the knob and you get whatever and you go off and enjoy it. You only go back when you need some more. He is not a vending machine to be used in that way. The contrast is between the pursuit of the life of blessing rather than pursuing a life of hope. The path of blessing, we suppose, is better than the path of hope and intimacy.
So, there is a tremendous contrast between the two.
But, God’s desire is for us to pursue intimacy and in doing so cause us to be broken enough so that we pursue Him for Himself and not for His gifts. That is a process that we go through again and again.
So, when we are confronted by disappointment, disease and death, as we will be, we have to put our hope in the character of God and not in the promises of this world, but rather in His promises that flow out of His character. I think it is in those trying times that we have to embrace and walk by faith and not simply by sight.
“For we walk by faith, not by sight.” 2 Corinthians 5:7 (KJV)
In any case, Jesus stayed two days longer, but there was purpose for that. “Then after this He said to his disciples, ‘Let us go to Judea again’.” I figure that it probably took about a day for the messenger to go and find Him. Mary and Martha, somehow, knew where He was. Then He waited two days after receiving the message and it would another day to travel back. By that time Lazarus would have been in the tomb. In fact, it would have been at least four days. It means, then, that Lazarus actually died soon after the messenger was sent out.
So, going back earlier would not have made a difference. In fact, His waiting longer does make a difference. By waiting longer, He will demonstrate that this is not just some mere resuscitation. The Jews, you see, had this notion that it was possible for a person to go back into the corpse. Only on the fourth day, when there was decomposition beginning would they conclude that the soul was not returning.
So, He waited until the fourth day so that no one could claim this was only a near-death experience. That is why there is that famous sentence from Mary, in the King James Version, “Lord, by this time he stinketh.” I love that line; “he stinketh.” Another one I love is; “Ye do err.” Ok back to the lesson.
So, when Jesus said, “Let us go into Judea again,” it was a big shock to the disciples. They probably wondered why He waited for two days and they said to Him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just now seeking to stone You, and are You going there again?” We saw that in the previous chapter and in the chapters before that. “Jesus answered, ‘Are there not twelve hours in a day? If anyone walks in the day, he does not stumble, because he sees the light of the world’.” He is making it very, very clear here that He is, in fact, the Light of the world as He claimed in chapter eight verse 12 and also in chapter nine verse five and that in fact the ones who walk with Me will not stumble because “I am the Light of the world.” And, “If anyone walks in the night, he stumbles, because the Light is not in him.” He then said, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I go, so that I may waken him out of sleep.” Again, John is giving us a double meaning. The word ‘sleep’ is often used as a euphemism of death. The point here is that there is imagery that Lazarus was dead, Jesus delays because He is living on a fine timetable and the things that He has in mind are of a very different orientation than the things that we would normally suppose. Because of the delay there would be a greater authenticity to the miracle. In verse 15, in fact, He says, “I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, so that you may believe; but let us go to him.”
So then, the disciples were alarmed about this and said to Him, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will recover.” They thought he might just wake up. “Now, Jesus had spoken of his death, but they thought He was speaking of literal sleep.
So, Jesus then said plainly, ‘Lazarus is dead. I am glad for your sakes we were not there, so that you may believe; but let us go to him’.” Death of the believer, in Scripture, is compared to sleep. Look at Acts 7:60, concerning the martyrdom of Stephen. “Then falling on his knees, he cried out with a loud voice, ‘Lord, do not hold this against them’. Having said this, he fell asleep.” This tells us something. In Corinthians 15:51, it also uses this image. Corinthians chapter 15 is a great chapter on the resurrection of the dead and we learn more from this one chapter about the resurrected body than from anywhere else in Scripture. In verse 51 Paul adds this thought, “Behold, I tell you a mystery.” Now, ‘musterion’ is something that was formerly not known but is now made manifest. It is now revealed.
So, mystery, in that sense, is something that has never been revealed but is now made known. Here is the mystery; “We will not all sleep.” Up to that time only two people escaped physical death. You know their names. Elijah was one and Enoch was the other. Those are the only two people who have not died, in the whole history of the world. And so, when we think about death we think of that awful reality, if we have no hope without Christ, of the certainty of the grave that is coming up. Then Paul gives us this word, that actually we are not all going to die. He goes on to say, in fact, that we will all be changed, “In a moment, in a twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet; for the trumpet will sound.”
What it is saying here that there will some who will be alive when Christ comes from for His own and they will never see physical death and that is actually explained further in 1st Thessalonians chapter four. Paul is writing to believers who are concerned because their loved ones have died, and they weren’t sure when, or if, they would ever see them. Paul writes, “But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are,” and what is the word he uses? “Asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope.” I want to interject here that grief is natural and there is good grief and there is also bad grief. He is not talking about not grieving; he is talking about the kind of grieving that still has hope. Do you see the difference? I have been to funerals and seen both kinds. I have been to funerals where there has been a hopeless grieving and I have been to funerals where the grief was only because of our missing the person, but the reality was that it was actually a celebration. It was their coronation day and that was understood. Do you see the concept there? That is a grief, but a grief that is, really, animated by a hope that there is a life after this that goes on and on and on. “If we believe,” Paul writes, “that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus.
For this we say to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first.” What he is saying there is that those who have gone on before us, they will receive resurrected bodies and then he goes on to say, “We who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord.” I connect this with Paul’s statement earlier, that we will not all sleep and not all be changed. You see the idea? Those who are alive, and frankly I think it perfectly legitimate to pray, ‘come quickly, Lord Jesus’, it would be a better way to go. Frankly, if you had your choice, wouldn’t you like to go out the way Elijah did? He died with real panache, with those fiery chariots and so forth. Enoch walked with God for 365 years and all of a sudden God took him. He was just a kid. The average age then was around 900 years. The point here is that there is this tremendous hope that we have that is associated with the promises of God that are manifested in the work of His Son, Jesus Christ. It gives context to our lives.
So, returning to the text, Jesus goes on to say that, “We are going to go to Him.” But, “Thomas, who was called the twin, said to his fellow disciples, ‘Let us also go, so that we may die with Him.” Now, there are two ways of looking at this. Is he just being a ‘doubting’ Thomas, as we see later on, in which case he would have said, ‘we’re all going to die’. That is one way of interpreting it. Others might say that it actually shows his commitment to Christ, but his lack of understanding as well.
But, there is a sense that he is saying more than he really means. He is anticipating something, just like Caiaphas, later on at the end of this chapter, will say something but it will have more meaning than he himself understood.
Sometimes God will do that. He surely did that with the Prophets. Many times, the Prophets had no clue as to what they were writing. Daniel, for example, in chapter ten, wants to know, ‘what on earth does this mean’? It says, “Go your way, Daniel, the book has been closed for those in the end times.” You will not understand it.
So, the Prophets who came earlier were seeking to understand what these things really were.
So, sometimes God will speak with a word and sometimes we will say something more than we knew. In any case, Thomas was willing to die with Him.
Now, in verse 17, “When Jesus came, He found that he had already been in the tomb four days.
Now, Bethany was near Jerusalem, about two miles off, now remember Jesus wasn’t privy to a Lexus, all this mileage was walking miles! Many of the Jews had come to Mary and Martha, to console them concerning their brother.” Again, we have this image of the extended family here. “Martha therefore, when she heard that Jesus was coming, went to meet Him but Mary stayed in the house.”
So, after His encounter with the disciples, now He has an encounter with the two sisters, first with Martha. It seems evident that Martha was the older of the two because we see in the parallel passage in Luke chapter 10 that she seemed to have authority over the house. She comes to Him and says, Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.” Now, she is not chiding Him, but she is just saying that He could have healed him if He had been there.
But, she says, “Even now I know that whatever You ask of God, God will give You.” However, I don’t think she is expecting Him to raise him from the dead. | English | NL | bc9585b0391a865d7f29f6fc37bc3f7e2346ea8c89fd9608ceaa64c1bec91e29 |
THE WELL WITHIN
By Pastor Glenn Pease
Keith Miller in his book The Scent Of Love tells of the young intern who was brilliant and competitive, and wanted to get his hands on the toughest cases that came into the hospital. One day a man was brought in very sick. His temperature was high, his blood count was down, and his fluids were out of balance. He was in bad shape, and this young doctor said, "I'll take him." He started working on the sick man and got his temperature down. Then he got his blood count up, and his fluids in balance. Everything was going quite well, but suddenly the patient died.
The supervising physician came by just as the intern was covering the patient, and he noticed he was furious. He watched unobserved from the hall as the young doctor grabbed the chart at the front of the bed, took a pen out of his pocket, and scrawled something across it. Then he stormed angrily out passed the supervisor, and never said a word. The older physician could not resist going into to see what he had written. It said, "This patient was in better condition when he died then when he first came to me." This is in the same category with the statement, "The operation was a success, but the patient died." It sounds strange, but this is the goal of the physician of the soul-to make sure people are in better condition when they die.
Corrie Ten Boom got the warning that a Jewish orphanage was to be raided, and all the babies killed. She quickly got some of her Dutch boys dressed up in Nazi uniforms, and sent them to the orphanage to demand that the babies be turned over to them. With tears they were handed over. The people did not realize that they were really saving the babies. All were given to families to raise. One of the boys involved in this clever rescue said to Corrie that he believed the most important work of his life was the saving of those babies. Corrie said to him that as important as it was, the more important work is saving people forever by telling them of Jesus. She put her hand on his shoulder and said, "Pete, every Christian is called to be a soul winner for Jesus.....and in your life there will come a times when you will see that as the most important work for you.
Six months later he was arrested, and given one week to live. The day before he was executed he wrote this letter to Corrie. "All the boys in my cell are sentenced to death. I am so glad that I could tell them about Jesus and they have accepted Him. I know that when they shoot us tomorrow, we will all go to heaven, because we have brought our sins to Jesus and He has made us all children of God. We know that the house of the Father with many mansions is our very close future. I see now that the most important work for a Christian is to win souls for eternity. Like the young doctor, this young physician of the soul could have written their death certificates with these words: "These boys were in better condition when they died then when they came to me." Jesus could have written this concerning the thief on the cross as well.
This is the ultimate need of all mankind. We cannot solve the problems of the world. It will be a fallen world until Jesus comes again, and it will be a world of unsolvable problems and crooked paths we cannot make straight. But we can make sure that the victims of this fallen world are in better condition when they die, then ever before. That is the great human need that Jesus addresses in John 4. He does not offer the woman at the well marriage counseling, or some advice on self-esteem therapy. After being rejected by five husbands, she no doubt had a head full of psychological problems. Jesus did not inquire if there were children involved, and offer her family guidance, or legal advice on how she could get out of Samaria and start a new life. This woman may have had more problems than we could imagine, but all Jesus offered her was a spring of water that would well up to eternal life. He was not solving all her problems, but He was offering her the chance to be in better condition when she died, than she ever was before she met the Messiah.
The point I am getting at it this: Man's greatest need is for eternal life. There are a great many studies on man's basic needs. He needs food, air, water, shelter, clothing, and he needs love and security, self-esteem, and a host of other things for the ideal and balanced life. But the bottom line Biblically is, man needs God. He needs to know he is a child of God, and a part of a family that never ends. This woman at the well had five families that ended, and we do not know what state she was in with her present family. Jesus offers her a chance to be a part of a family where she will be loved permanently. Her wells kept running dry, but Jesus offers her a well that will never run dry. He offers her a place where she will always belong. This meets her basic need for love, acceptance, and security.
This whole passage is about meeting needs, and it leads us to focus on another principle truth about evangelism-the purpose of evangelism. Let's review the key truth that Jesus is teaching us in John 4. We have looked at-
1. HIS PASSION FOR EVANGELISM.
2. HIS PROCEDURE IN EVANGELISM.
3. HIS PROSPECTS FOR EVANGELISM.
4. HIS PURPOSE IN EVANGELISM.
This last one is our focus now. There are literally thousands of definitions of what evangelism is. I have written a couple myself. Here are some of the most famous:
1. The Madras Foreign Missions Council, "Evangelism is so to present Jesus Christ to the world in the power of the Holy Spirit that men shall come to put their trust in God through Him, accept them as their Savior and serve Him as their Lord in the fellowship of His church."
2. The World Council Of Churches, "Evangelism is so making Christ known to men that each is confronted with the necessity of a personal decision, yes or no."
3. Toyohiko Kagawa, "Evangelism means the conversion of people from worldliness to Christlike godliness."
4. Albert W. Beaven, "Evangelism is simply the contagion of enthusiasm for Jesus Christ.
The methods which we employ are only channels through which this enthusiasm flows."
5. Archbishop Temple, "Evangelism is the winning of men to acknowledge Christ as their Savior and King, so that they may give themselves to His service in the fellowship of His church."
6. Samuel Boon of Siam, "Evangelism means living, doing, and talking for Christ."
There are many ways to say it, but when you reduce it to its essence, evangelism is simply meeting mans basic need for salvation, or the need for eternal life. When this purpose is achieved, there will be many changes in time, but the ultimate value will be, people will be in better condition when they die than they were before they met the Great Physician. As we watch the Master at work in fulfilling the purpose of evangelism, we see how the entire process is need oriented.
Jesus deals with each person He encounters according to their need. Find a need and meet it was His strategy. In John 3 Jesus said to Nicodemus, "You must be born again." This analogy of coming into the kingdom of God by the process of a new birth has so dominated the minds of modern Christians that they have completely ignored the fact that Jesus never once referred to it in dealing with the woman at the well. His analogy here is tailored to meet her need, and He uses the analogy of drinking at a fountain that never runs dry. For Nicodemus, and millions of others, the concept of being born anew is just what they need to grasp the Gospel. But for others, the need is to see being saved is like finding a fountain of water that quenches the thirst for love, meaning, and acceptance. Still others need to see it as being a lost sheep found by a loving shepherd, and being returned to the fold.
There are different analogies used in the Bible to describe the experience of being saved, because the people who need to be saved have a variety of individual differences. Jesus did not treat people like pieces of plastic coming along in a assembly line, all alike, and all needing the same label attached, or the same hole drilled in the same place. People are all different, and though they all have the same ultimate need, they have very different temporal needs, and these need to be addressed in witnessing to them, and leading them to have their needs met in Christ. We should all have a sort of canned presentation of the Gospel prepared, but we need to be aware of the importance of being flexible, and not so locked in to a specific presentation that we ignore people's differences.
If all you ever say to people is, you must be born again, you are not being Christ like, for He only used that as one of several analogies of salvation. So use them all, and vary them with the circumstances, and the nature of the people you are dealing with. This woman was at the well in the heat of the day, and she was obviously in great need of water, so Jesus takes this need and builds His presentation of the Gospel around that need. Jesus said you need living water, and this got her attention, for that was her most relevant need just then. A wise witness will observe and listen so as to know something of the needs of the person he is witnessing to. If the Gospel does not speak to a felt need, you can count on it,
it will seem irrelevant to the person you are talking to. If the purpose of evangelism is to meet a basic need, then you have to be dealing with a persons need to get anywhere in achieving this goal.
You can never catch fish unless you appeal to a need. They need food, and so you offer them bait, and a variety of bait for appeal to different fish. You also have to appeal to a need to be a fisher of men. That is why Jesus has so many different names and titles in the Bible. Each one makes Him just what people need at a particular time in their life.
To the lonely, Jesus is the friend.
To the lost, Jesus is the Good Shepherd.
To the sick, Jesus is the Great Physician.
To the ignorant Jesus is the teacher.
There are many other examples, and the point is, Jesus is what people need, but He has to be presented according to the specific needs of the individual, and that is why we need to pay attention to people's needs, for they are the doors of opportunity to share the good news of Jesus. All that Jesus is doing in this context revolves around need. He exposes her record of failed relationships, not to embarrass or condemn her, but to make it quite clear that she has a need for love and acceptance, which she just can not quench. She has been trying to satisfy her thirst for love by one relationship after another, always hoping the next one will meet her need. We do not know the details of why five men divorced her, but he chances are good that it was because she could never be satisfied, and was always looking for another man. She could have been like many in our day who expect to find love
and life's meaning in sex alone.
We do not want to minimize the value of sex, and its place in God's plan, and try to pretend it is not a major need. We are just pointing out that people who become obsessed with sex make it an idol, and destroy all their relationships by an insatiable quest to quench their thirst for love at this one well. People need a love that is more powerful and more permanent than sex. That is what this woman needed, and that is what all need, and that is the love that Jesus offered her, and offers to all.
This woman went from man to man expecting her thirst to be quenched, if she could just find the right man. Jesus did not question her need, and say it was not legitimate. He did not say she did not need love and satisfaction. He just said she was drinking from the wrong well, and seeking to satisfy her need by means of externals. The only water that can satisfy is living water, and that comes from a well from within. This is the very essence of what the Gospel is all about. It is about the inner life. The world system is a system of externals. The meaning of life is in what you can see, feel, hear, smell, and taste, and so it makes sense that they drink at the wells of sensualism and materialism.
The people we contact every day in the world are people who are thirsty, and who are seeking to quench that thirst by getting all the pleasure they can if that means drinking at the well of immorality, then so be it, it is the only well they know. The purpose of evangelism is to help them see a better well. A well that can meet their deepest needs, and save them from a futile search that makes them slaves rather than liberated people. Jesus came to give this woman life and life abundant. That is, a life set free from the slavery of being compelled to go from one relationship to another, always looking for that external setting that would satisfy. When we find our deepest needs met by water within, we are free from this external compulsion. Jesus is that well that provides the living water, and when He is in our lives, we can find satisfaction from within. We can know we are loved and accepted, and feel secure without the constant reinforcement of externals.
We thank thee, Lord, for Pilgrim days,
When desert springs were dry,
When first we knew what depths of need
Thy love could satisfy.
The purpose of evangelism is to help people change their focus so they find their needs met by the kingdom of God which is within them, when they receive Christ as Savior. The Well Within is the goal. The well without is the focus of the world, as it was with this woman. What she needed most, and what all people need most is, The Well Within-an inner source of the water of life that meets our deepest needs and quenches our thirst for love. The purpose of evangelism is to point to Jesus as this Well Within, and make Him so appealing that people want to open their lives and welcome Him in.
Those who drink of this well will never thirst again Jesus said. This does not mean people who take Jesus as their Savior never feel thirsty. Jesus Himself felt thirsty, and asked for a drink. The needs of life go on, and we all need external water, and we all need external love, acceptance, and the materialism of the secular life is still an important part of the Christian life. But the ultimate need is met in Christ, and we no longer need to live under the delusion that some external can satisfy the meaning of life. The need for God,
for love, and for eternal life are all met in Christ, and we never need to thirst again for these needs to be met.
This woman had plenty of needs after she welcomed Christ into her life as her Messiah. She still needed to come to the well and get water. She still needed to bring her sex life under the control of God's law, and make a commitment to the man she was living with.
She had a list of needs she had to meet in the external world. But she had a well within that satisfied her ultimate need for love and life in God. Billy Sunday, the great evangelist, once wrote to the mayor of the city where he was going for a campaign. He asked him to send him the names of citizens in special need of prayer. The mayor sent him the city directory. Everybody is in need of prayer, and everybody always will be, as long as history lasts. Just knowing this need makes it easier to witness to all people.
The Gospel is not, come to Jesus and you will never need to come to the well again; you will never need human love again; you will never need the acceptance of society again; you will never need a job, food, a place to live, and friends again. Not at all! These needs go on for all people, as they did for this woman at the well. The Gospel is, you don't have to look for the meaning of life in all of the wrong places, for you have found it in your relationship to Christ. The meaning of life is found in Jesus, who by His death for your sin has reconciled you to God, and given you eternal life. The good news is, you will be in better condition when you die than you ever were before you came to Christ, and began to drink from the well within.
Jesus did not scold this woman for her futile search for water to quench her thirst. Nor is it our calling to blast people for their foolish quest to find the fountain of life in all of the externals of the world. Our calling is to witness to a source of water that quenches the thirst for meaning, and sets people free from the slavery to externals. All people have a deep need for a relationship with God. Back in the days of the death of God movement someone said, "Isn't it strange, we've gotten rid of God, and yet something is still missing." There is a thirst in man that can never be quenched until he feels right with God. Even atheist feel this. Bertrand Russell was one of the most famous atheists of this century. Listen to what he wrote, "Even when one feels nearest to other people, something in one seems obstinately to belong to God, and to refuse to enter into any earthy communion-at least that is how I should express it if I thought there was a God. It is odd isn't it? I care passionately for this world and many things and people in it, and yet...what is it all? There must be something more important, one feels, though I don't believe there is."
He didn't even believe in God, but he admitted he had a thirst for God, and a need for God to make sense of life, and to make it complete. Everyone you know and meet has this basic an ultimate need to know God, and to be reconciled to Him. Every need people have is a door by which we can enter into their lives, and point out their greater need. If you want to make the Gospel relevant, make it need centered. Find a need and meet it. The purpose of evangelism is to do what Jesus did with this woman at the well. Appeal to the need for water that satisfy people's thirst, and then point them to the only water that can meet that need, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will be to all who receive Him, The Well Within. | English | NL | eafd0f4a2c5c2f98f33c94d0bc4528e2da1049a96b9f0c10501d967f61c66a8d |
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