question stringlengths 14 1.69M | answer stringlengths 1 40.5k | meat_tokens int64 1 8.18k |
|---|---|---|
There's a warm glow which comes when reading a newspaper article called 'Cosiest pubs to stay in this winter' and realising you are heading off to stay in one of those featured that very day. This happened to me recently when about to head off to The Bell Inn in the New Forest<|fim_middle|> enjoy bracing country walks (and to return to for post-walk drinks by its log fire).
Expectations were high therefore as I took to the road and thankfully I wasn't disappointed – The Bell Inn is a charming place and I was fortunate enough to stay for two extremely cosy nights.
Having previously spent a considerable amount of time driving through the New Forest itself to get to various hotels I was surprised at how handy The Bell Inn is to get to – it was literally just a few minutes off the M27 so you don't waste a moment snarled up in Lyndhurst traffic before getting stuck into some serious relaxing.
The Bell Inn has been in the Crosthwaite Eyre family for hundreds of years (since 1782 to be precise). Much of the food served in the restaurant has either been grown or raised on the family's New Forest estate – some also comes from the family's estate in Scotland – so the pub is very much a local enterprise and during my stay was preparing to host a dozen local suppliers in its annual Christmas fair. | ; reading The Times over my morning coffee I found that it had been singled out as the perfect place from which to | 23 |
Tim Sherwood Believes Tottenham Board Have Already Decided His Fate
Robert Summerscales
Follow @robsummerscales
Sherwood admits that equalling Tottenham's record Premier League points tally is unlikely to convince the "people upstairs" from replacing him this summer.
Check in to West Ham United vs Tottenham Hotsp<|fim_middle|> team of the weekend: Arsenal duo & Liverpool tormentors make final day XI May 25, 2015 6:50
The one player each big club wishes they'd never sold, with Cristiano Ronaldo, Arsenal legend & ex-Liverpool striker May 24, 2015 21:06
PSG's awesome XI with Cristiano Ronaldo & Angel Di Maria signings, plus move for Chelsea target May 24, 2015 20:35 | ur
Tottenham Hotspur head coach Tim Sherwood does not expect the results of his side's final two games of the season to have any bearing on whether the club sack him or not.
Since replacing Andre Villas-Boas just before Christmas, firstly as a caretaker and then on an 18-month contract, Sherwood has masterminded 12 wins from 20 Premier League games.
That impressive record gives the 45-year-old a top-flight win percentage of 60 per cent, which is superior to that of any of his predecessors.
Furthermore, if Sherwood's side beat West Ham United at White Hart Lane on Saturday and then get another victory at Aston Villa eight days later, they will equal the club's record Premier League points tally of 72, which was set last season.
However, Sherwood reckons that such an achievement is unlikely to have much of an impact on his Spurs future.
"It should not make a difference," BBC Sport quotes him as saying. "If we are relying on the last two games to decide the future of this club then it could be decided on a 30-yard shot or a referee's decision.
"The people upstairs will know who they want to run this club and the last two games should not make a difference."
Sherwood is expected to get the chop this summer, with Ajax boss Frank de Boer widely tipped to replace him.
De Boer is reported to be top of Tottenham's managerial shortlist, which is also said to include Southampton's Mauricio Pochettino.
More Stories Tottenham Hotspur FC
AS Monaco vs Tottenham Hotspur: confirmed starting lineups November 22, 2016 20:22
Tottenham's Champions League status in jeopardy after Bayer Leverkusen defeat November 2, 2016 22:49
11 biggest surprises of the season, with Chelsea FA Cup exit & Falcao's awful Man United spell May 25, 2015 19:49
Best British players on the move this summer, with Arsenal trio, Liverpool's Raheem Sterling & Gareth Bale May 25, 2015 17:30
Manchester United transfer news: LVG plots stunning £180.3m spree for Liverpool star & Gareth Bale May 25, 2015 12:59
Premier League team of the season with just one player per club: Kane & Aguero up front, Liverpool & Arsenal stars in midfield May 25, 2015 8:02
Premier League | 548 |
49ers History
49ers Year-by-Year: 1972
By howtheyscored Jan 16, 2009, 7:00pm PST
Share All sharing options for: 49ers Year-by-Year: 1972
What follows is a brief historical recap of the San Francisco 49ers's 1972 season. Would the team three-peat as division champs? How would Steve Spurrier respond to being thrust into the starting role? How could it all possibly fall apart again? And if nothng else, read the end bit to learn<|fim_middle|> all time.
The short term prospects of the team, however, were extremely good. Coming off of the two aforementioned division titles, the team again returned virtually unchanged. There was no reason to expect anything less out of the current product.
Everything started well that season as the team opened up on the road in San Diego. The Chargers didn't put up much of a fight at all, and the 49ers looked as good as ever. Three Brodie touchdowns to Gene Washington later, the 49ers emerged from the game with a 34-3 victory.
Coming home in week 2 would be bittersweet, though. The 49ers hadn't won a home opener since 1967, and 1972 would be no exception. As had been the case in many of the 49ers losses over the last few years, turnovers gave the game away, though unlike recent years the overall quality of the offense didn't help matters. The follow-up was encouraging, as the team defeated the Saints at home by 35 points. The problem was that the Saints were one of the worst, if not the worst team in the league at the time, and the win didn't indicate much.
That much became clear the next two weeks. The 49ers dropped two straight as they continued to struggle to find a consistent rhythm on offense. But perhaps the biggest loss over those two weeks was the loss of John Brodie, who went down with a severe sprained ankle and would remain questionable for the rest of the season. The season would ride on the shoulders of unproven Steve Spurrier.
Spurrier got his first chance in New Orleans against the winless Saints. The results weren't nearly as good as when the teams first played, and despite two impressive touchdowns, Spurrier still appeared unpolished and unready. He was only able to muster a tie in the game, and hopes for the 49ers were fading fast.
But then something remarkable happened. Spurrier found himself and began to blow teams away. Over the next 7 games, he threw 14 touchdowns, including 3 in a win over the Falcons and 5 in a win over the Bears. The 49ers won 5 of those games to save a season that at one point seemed lost to many. That stretch included a huge win over the Dallas Cowboys on November 23. Playing for revenge against the team that had ended their seasons in each of the previous two years, the 49ers jumped ahead early and never let go.
Spurrier's high level of performance even began to earn him starts over an increasingly healthy John Brodie, and Spurrier remained the starter through the last week of the season, when Brodie was healthy and ready to go. For the third year in a row, the 49ers had to win the final game of their season to secure a division title.
For three quarters, the game was a complete disaster. Spurrier ended up going 7-14 for 64 yards and 3 interceptions, and left the game at the end of the third quarter trailing 17-6. Starting the fourth quarter, Brodie didn't look any better as his first two possessions both ended in interceptions. Dick Nolan stuck with his star, though, and Brodie rewarded him handsomely. Halfway through the 4th quarter and backed up all the way on their own 1 yard line, Brodie led the team on a thrilling 99 yard touchdown drive. Still down by 4, though, the 49ers were running out of time and still needed at least a touchdown to win. Then, with less than 2 minutes to go, Brodie did it again and the team won 20-17 to clinch the division.
A thrilling season would have familiar ends, though, as the 49ers found themselves again facing the Cowboys in the playoffs. The 49ers appeared poised for victory in this game to finally rid themselves of the team that had been their own personal Sisyphusian trial for two consecutive seasons. Leading comfortably in the 4th quarter, San Francisco was up 28-16 with as little as two minutes to go in the game. Roger Staubach threw two last minute touchdowns to steal the game and crush the 49ers' hopes for a third year in a row.
Player Profile: Len Rohde
The San Francisco 49ers selected Len Rohde in the fifth round of the 1960 NFL draft as an offensive tackle, and played with the team for 15 years until 1974. During that time, he established himself as one of the most durable and reliable players in team history.
Taxed with the burden of protecting star quarterback John Brodie's blindside, Rohde never got the glory, but he always got the job done. The offensive line's the Rohde was a part of were some of the best in team history. He began his career backing up hall of fame lineman Bob St. Clair, and within a few years was splitting time with the legendary giant. He was also an integral part of a unit in 1970 that only allowed 7 total sacks for the entire season. At the time, that was an NFL record, and it held up for almost 20 years until the Dolphins broke it in 1988 by allowing only 7 sacks on the season.
In many ways, though, Rohde's greatest gift was his health. As a pro, he never missed a game due to injury - and that includes the preseason and the playoffs for a grand total in excess of 300 games. During the regular season, he appeared in 208 games, all consecutive. That number set a team record.
Though he was never a glorified player and to this day isn't remembered in the same breath as many of the team's other great stars, Rohde was nonetheless recognized during his time. He was selected to the Pro Bowl in 1970 and was honored with the team's award for showing exemplary inspiration and courage, the Len Eshmont award, in 1974.
After his retirement, Rohde went into business and eventually became the majority owner of a number of fast food establishments. Living happily today, and over 30 years removed from his playing career, Rohde continues to root heart and soul for his San Francisco 49ers
Primary Reference:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1972_NFL_season
http://www.pro-football-reference.com/teams/sfo/1972.htm
Glenn Dickey, San Francisco 49ers: The First 50 Years. Turner Publishing Inc. 1995
Matt Maiocco, San Francisco 49ers: Where Have You Gone?. Sports Publishing LLC, 2005
San Francisco 49ers year-by-year history: 1946 to 2009
Who wore it best? Who wears it now? | a little about one of the less well-remembered great 49ers: offensive lineman Len Rohde.
Opponent's Record:
W: 3-34
@ Buffalo Bills
@ New Orleans Saints
W: 37-2
@ Los Angeles Rams
L: 7-31
T: 20-20
@ Atlanta Falcons
W: 49-14
@ Green Bay Packers
@ Chicago Bears
@ Dallas Cowboys
Dec. 4
Playoffs:
Head Coach: Dick Nolan
Key Losses: None
Key Additions: DB Ralph McGill, P Tom Wittum
In 1972, the NFL had come out of the effects of the merger stronger than ever, and was benefitting from the first extended period of stability in the league structure since the mid-'60s. There were a number of technical rule changes going into the NFL's 1972 season, but one of the most interesting ones was a change that allowed for kicks to be returned on punts and field goals that crossed the receiving team's goal line without crossing the backline on both field goals and punts, a rule change that had deep repercussions into how special teams were played from that point on.
For the 49ers, the future was becoming less and less certain. A number of the team's most important players were getting older, and no replacements appeared to be riding over the horizon. John Brodie was entering his twilight years, and the team hadn't been impressed with the incumbent replacement Steve Spurrier up to that point. Other key players like Charlie Krueger, Len Rohde, Dave Wilcox, Jimmy Johnson, and Mel Phillips were all moving through the wrong side of their 30s and most had roughly the football equivalent of black holes behind them on the depth chart.
It didn't help the team's future prospects that their ability to draft was falling apart. Strong drafts in the 60s had built the juggernaut that had just won two division titles in a row, but with a new scouting department in 1971, the 49ers found themselves in the unfamiliar territory of wasting draft picks. It was so bad that the first round picks in 1971 and 1972 were both cut from the team within just a few years of being selected, and neither played in any significant way during that time. The 1971 draft has been since recognized as one of the worst of | 518 |
HDTV Floor Stand Rental is a floor stand to hold flat screen for presentations to audiences and tradeshow booths.
HDTV Floor Stand Rental is a self supporting stand with mounting bracket<|fim_middle|> which places the HDTV monitor at standing eye level. Our floor stands include a device shelf and mounting bracket at no additional charge. Floor stands are a great addition to assure your presentation is easily seen whether in a meeting space or on a trade show floor. However, our floor stands are only rented in combination with our HDTV flat screens and are not available independently.
Do you have a conference or trade show in the Houston area and want to save money? No problem, we offer great rates which are often half the price of the in-house AV company at hotels. | , thus excellent to hold an HDTV flat screen for presentations to audiences and trade show booths. Floor stand rentals have rubber wheels for easy transport and positioning. Wheels lock to maintain position during an event. Poles allow flat screens to be mounted at approximately 6ft from the floor, | 57 |
The Kingsbury Manx
By Carl Hanni
Chapel Hill, N.C.'s four piece The Kingsbury Manx evoke some of the sound and spirit of the 1960s English folk and psychedelic scenes on their fourth full-length release, The Fast Rise and Fall of the South. Echoes of Syd Barrett era Pink Floyd, Traffic, Fairport Convention and The Kinks (check out "900 Years" and the gorgeous "What a Shame") all ground them in the deeply textured music of that fertile era.
But The Kingsbury Manx are not even remotely a retro act, nor do they ape other bands. Like the acts just name-checked, they show an adherence to songcraft, well-crafted arrangements and emotive power. And it's no fluke that the new CD was produced by Wilco's Mikael Jorgensen, who gives it a crystal clear shine similar to Wilco's A Ghost Is Born.
The Fast Rise is largely a keyboard driven affair, with brief solos in "Nova" and "10008" and a guitar freak-out at the end of "Ol' Mountainsides" the only significant guitar leads. Otherwise, it's pianos, organs, synths, mellotrons, Wurlitzers and more driving the clear-eyed, striking pop songs. The songcraft here<|fim_middle|>or Paul McCartney or Air or Elliot Smith or Steely Dan) would probably delight in the un-fussy, simple but swoony arrangements and Bill Taylor's richly evocative vocals on "Animations," "Snow Angel Dance" or "Harness and Wheel." The Fast Rise is A-list pop from start to finish. | is exquisite--Brian Wilson ( | 6 |
This weekend, on<|fim_middle|> them further towards a healthy lifestyle, through yoga the Radiant Way!
Or Sign Up at the Front Desk! | Sunday we are celebrating World Health Day.
On World Health Day, we celebrate the awareness of global health. It is important to remember self-care contributes to world around us and within us.
Come celebrate World Health Day with your Radiant Hot Yoga Family. This day is a beautiful opportunity to be grateful for the world around us. Let's meet on our mats as we honor mental health, global awareness, and spread love into the world.
The benefits of Hot Yoga are abundant and are for everybody. Our classes are a balanced blend of static postures and dynamic flow, refined to create a sense of inner peace and harmony, while simultaneously building strength and flexibility.
In honor of World Health Day, all day on Sunday, you can BRING YOUR FRIEND FOR FREE* to any Radiant Class. Help them take the first steps, or motivate | 167 |
A look at the big winners of the night.
Hollywood's glamorous stars were in attendance at the 21st Screen Actors Guild awards, held at the Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles on January 25.
After winning the Golden Globes earlier this month, Still Alice actress Julianne Moore -- looking lovely in an emerald beaded gown, won the Best Actress SAG award.
The Theory Of Everything actor Eddie Redmayne won the Best Actor trophy for his powerful performance as Stephen Hawking in the film.
Nimrat Kaur, who was nominated with<|fim_middle|> Downton Abbey.
Gone Girl actress Rosemund Pike may have lost out on the Best Actress Award but she was a vision on the red carpet in her Dior dress.
The Imitation Game actress Keira Knightley, who is expecting her first child with husband James Righton, wore a lace gown.
Julia Roberts, nominated for her Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in Television for Normal Heart, dropped the gown idea and instead opted for a Givenchy jumpsuit. | the cast of the American television series Homeland in the outstanding performance by an ensemble in the drama series category, looked ultra-glam in an off shoulder gown.
Patricia Arquette won the Best Actress in a Supporting Role award for her role in Boyhood.
Actor J K Simmons seems ecstatic as he accepts the award for Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Supporting Role for Whiplash.
Edward Norton, whose film won Birdman won the Outstanding Performance by a Cast in a Motion Picture, arrived with his producer wife Shauna Robertson.
Actresses Joanne Froggatt, Sophie McShera, Laura Carmichael and Phyllis Logan were adjudged the winners of Outstanding Performance by an Ensemble in a Drama Series for | 144 |
Looking for a holiday on a beautiful island? Book flights to Indonesia and choose from thousands of islands that make up this country. For example Java, famous for its wayang kulit, a shadow puppet theatre with leather or wooden puppets. With its incredibly diverse nature, Indonesia is home to an array of unique animals. On<|fim_middle|> tasty dinner and drinks. Add in our many handy extra services (some available for a supplement) and you'll be in Indonesia before you know it. | Borneo you can observe the orangutans laze in the trees and rhesus monkeys leap through the air. The world's largest flower grows among the liana vines. Indonesia at its finest!
The island of Java is the vibrant heart of Indonesia. Visit the Borobudur Temple, a world famous Buddhist structure. Jakarta, the capital of Indonesia, lies in the western part of Java. Swoosh down the slides at Waterbom, an enormous water park on the edge of the metropolis or visit the museums in the old city to learn more about Indonesia's intriguing cultures. At night sample a typical Indonesian dish such as gado gado. Are you a coffee lover? Then you will be in heaven on the island of Sumatra. This is where the world's most refined coffee is roasted: kopi luwak. After a cup of this exclusive coffee you will have plenty of energy to climb one of the dozens of volcanoes on this island and enjoy a breathtaking view.
Looking for a cheap flight to Indonesia? With KLM, your holiday begins the moment you step onboard. Your journey will fly by with your own entertainment set on intercontinental flights: free films, games and music. Enjoy our selection of snacks or a | 253 |
Drunk Shakespeare Ticket
The Essential Collection gift box is Tinggly's carefully curated collection of experiences from around the world.
Cold season<|fim_middle|> Streets, New York City, NY 10036-1509
Exclusions: Excludes drinks during the show. Full cash bar available.
Drunk Shakespeare, 711 7th Avenue, 2nd Floor btw 47th & 48th Streets, New York City, NY 10036-1509
Enjoy a riotous version of a Shakespeare play during this 90-minute performance in New York's famous theater district. The stage is set at The Lounge, a hidden library on 47th and 8th with over 15,000 real books and craft cocktails. 5 professional NY actors meet as members of "The Drunk Shakespeare Society". One of them has at least 5 shots of whiskey and then overconfidently attempts to perform a major role in a Shakespearean play. Hilarity and mayhem ensues while the four sober actors try and keep the script on track. Every show is different depending on who is drinking... and what they're drinking!
Other experiences in "Essential Collection" gift box
Mozart Dinner Concert at Stiftskeller in Salzburg Austria, Tirol
Tagine Cooking Class With a Local in Marrakech Morocco, Marrakesh-Tensift-El Haouz
Brazilian Food Cooking Class in Rio Brazil, State of Rio de Janeiro
Thrilling Damajagua Waterfalls Adventure in Dominican Republic Dominican Republic, Puerto Plata
Wildlife, Beaches & Local Flavor of Puerto Plata Dominican Republic, Puerto Plata
Big Creek Horseback Ride in California United States, California |
John A
Good fun time! Good selection of drinks and in middle of city. Performers were awesome and got audience involved
Jeffrey B
Show was absolutely hilarious! Drink service could have been a bit quicker (waited close to an hour for a beer), but the actors and atmosphere was great. This is an interactive show - so don't be surprised! But all in good humor.
Special treat on arrival
Entry/Admission - Drunk Shakespeare
Departure point: Drunk Shakespeare, 711 7th Avenue, 2nd Floor btw 47th & 48th | 126 |
<|fim_middle|> Susan Sciame-Giesecke noted that Aniskiewicz and Cameron both have been at IU Kokomo about 35 years, about half of the campus' 70 years, and Downhour and Ison also have had long careers here, teaching many students.
"It isn't just about the total years of service, however, but the life they put into this institution while they were here," she said. "They played major roles in the development of IU Kokomo. We appreciate their service, and wish them well as they retire."
Aniskiewicz came to IU Kokomo in 1980, and has served as a sociology professor, instructor in the freshman learning community, and mentor to countless students. He has received the Claude Rich Excellence in Teaching Award, and participated in IU's Faculty Colloquium on Excellence in Teaching (FACET). He was chairperson of the sociology, history, and political science department for 12 years, when it was called social and behavioral science.
In more than 35 years at IU Kokomo, Ann Cameron has taught more than 30 different courses, including many she created herself. She has been honored with the Trustee's Teaching Award and the Claude Rich Excellence in Teaching Award, and was chairperson of the Department of Humanities. She has written more than 100 entries in reference works and spent more than a decade indexing works for the MLA International Bibliography.
Dinah Downhour has managed and coordinated the nursing lab since 1984. She makes sure the lab has the equipment needed, maintains it, repairs it, and teaches students and faculty how to use it. She also became the School of Nursing's technology expert, and is its web manager. | KOKOMO, Ind. — Indiana University Kokomo bids farewell to faculty and staff members, including several who have experienced nearly half the campus' history.
Rick Aniskiewicz speaks during the retirement celebration. See more pictures on Flickr.
Rick Aniskiewicz, professor of sociology; Ann Cameron, associate professor of English, Dinah Downhour, coordinator of the nursing lab, and Cindy Ison, senior lecturer in music, were honored at a retirement reception recently, honoring their many years of service to the campus.
Chancellor | 108 |
AI + ML
AI in<|fim_middle|>8 UTC 9 | the Enterprise: How can we make analytics and stats sound less scary? Let's call it AI!
New names for old recipes
Rupert Goodwins Wed 9 Sep 2020 // 17:00 UTC
Register Debate Welcome back to the inaugural Register Debate in which we pitch our writers against each other on contentious topics in IT and enterprise tech, and you – the reader – decide the winning side. The format is simple: a motion was proposed, for and against arguments were published on Monday, another round of arguments today, and a concluding piece on Friday summarizing the brouhaha and the best reader comments.
During the week you can cast your vote using the embedded poll, choosing whether you're in favor or against the motion. The final score will be announced on Friday, revealing whether the for or against argument was most popular. It's up to our writers to convince you to vote for their side.
For our first debate, the motion is: Artificial intelligence in the enterprise is just yesterday's dumb algorithms rebranded as AI.
And now, arguing FOR the motion is RUPERT GOODWINS...
Algorithm is a lovely word. It sounds technical and mysterious, hinting at its origins in the exotic mysteries of 9th century Persia, but it just means recipe.
The use of the exotic to mask the mundane is indeed diagnostic of what's going on. Let me reveal the master algorithm underpinning all AI in the enterprise. Take a technology few in business fully understand, define it as needing lots of expensive everythings - hardware, software, people, bought or hired - and don't say exactly what it's doing or how it's doing it.
Then sell it as the most important new thing any company can have, to fend off all the competition already adopting the new shiny to reduce you to rubble. Don't quite know what's going on? Perfect, you won't be able to tell whether it's working or not. Sign here.
That recipe has worked since computers were the size of warehouses, and it's still working perfectly well in its brand new AI hat. In the past it's been 4th Generation or Knowledge Engineering - crucially, then as now, with the vague promise of 'proper' AI, machines that think for themselves, but they're still as dumb as a box of sand.
Outside the enterprise, things are a bit more interesting. Very specific tasks based on machine learning, although not particularly novel, are newly practicable now Moore's Law has with its dying breath bestowed us transistors in uncountable trillions. Vision and speech recognition can replicate the processing pipelines of human perception - algorithms many millions of years old - and the nagging suspicion that natural language processing is getting good at semiotics won't go away. But unless your enterprise is based on automatic facial recognition or being unbeatable at board games, this isn't the HAL 9000 moment you were promised.
Proper, useful enterprise 'AI' is analytics. It's stats. You've got lots of data, and you need to know what it's telling you. You can put it through various transforms, you can stick it in a spreadsheet, you can pump it into a neural network, you can sort it and refine it in a database, but you're doing the same basic task that relies on three rules: your data must be good, your tools must be your servants not your masters, and you must be able to understand and test the answers.
That's not a problem exclusive to AI: AI's problem (to you) and promise (to the marketeers) is that it sounds less scary and more exciting than analytics or statistics. It promises to automate away your ignorance, your discomfort, and to give nice solid answers to questions you suspect are important but which you can't quite frame. Yet in the end the enterprise's survival and prosperity in the market depends on deciding what data matters and how to accurately collect it, and AI can't make those decisions for you. You need to properly analyse what you find, and then to formulate and act on a business model powered by that data. If AI is taking away your knowledge and control of that process, it's putting you in danger.
Smart people know that. That's why in the most automated, high-powered, cutting-edge pure data players, the financial market marauders, prize their quants so highly. High speed trading has to be automated and it has to be based on the very best analytics, but without a mutant from a maths department in charge of the crunching who knows what's going on, it isn't going to work. AI is scale, AI is speed, but AI is the oven, AI is not the chef. The recipes remain.
In the end, it's a question of semantics - where you draw the lines between process and algorithm. The techniques we call AI are disparate and constantly evolving, and like all evolution when you get close in it is constant change that slows and speeds somewhere on the line between static equilibrium and wholesale reinvention. Of course AI is built on existing ideas. Of course it innovates.
The important thing in enterprise IT is that you understand it. That you know what questions you're asking, that you comprehend the answers it's giving, and that if it's going wrong you can fix it or throw it away. That's the algorithm you need to implement. Natural intelligence makes all the difference, an old recipe but a good one. ®
Cast your vote and track the debate progress here.
Please Enable JavaScript to use this feature.
Gareth Corfield Fri 21 Jan 2022 // 16:2 | 1,153 |
NPT Opaque Chino Base allows you to produce extremely soft prints on medium and darker fabrics.
NPT VO Base is now formulated as a press-ready non-phthalate plastisol base for mixing colors and printing on 100% Cotton or over a NPT low bleed underlay when printing on polycotton blends.
NPT HO Matte Base is formulated as a press-ready, non-phthalate plastisol base for mixing colors and printing on 100% Cotton or over a NPT low bleed underlay when printing on polycotton blends.
NPT Poly Base is formulated as a press-ready non-phthalate low bleed plastisol base used to mix colors for printing on 100% Polyester. NPT Poly Base has great dye migration resistance, however, it should always be used with NPT Super Poly White or where severe bleeding is a problem.
ES0250<|fim_middle|> for conventional screen printers, sign painters and artists. Crescent bronze Powders are extra-fine, grain less, extra-smooth powders designed to mix with clear or transparent bases to create a variety of special screen printing metallic effects. | NPT Chino Base allows you to produce extremely soft sepia tone or Tone-on-Tone prints. NPT Chino Base can be colored to your specifications by mixing up to 30% EB Color Concentrates with 70% NPT Chino Base. Print NPT Chino Base as a stand alone on dark garments to produce that "Tone-on-Tone" look with a very soft hand. A variety of subdued looks can be printed with this new product.
Use NPT AP Clear as a base for metallic powders. Use up to 15% Metallic Flake to mix into the AP Clear. May also be used as a top coat clear or added to any plastisol ink as an extender. However, extending any plastisol color will decrease opacity. Only mix with NPT plastisol inks to maintain the non-phthalate status. Note: Some metallic flakes contain phthalates. Rutland's CS flakes do not contain phthalates.
EV S.H.A.P.E. is a non-phthalate, PH balanced clear used to extend a plastisol ink and to make it print with a softer hand. It may be mixed in at any ratio but it will reduce the opacity and color strength of the ink. The mixture can print through a wide variety of mesh ranges and will cure at 320 degrees F. (160 degrees C.) Only mix with NPT plastisol inks to maintain the non-phthalate status.
Curable Thinner is used to thin plastisol inks. It can be mixed into the product at any level necessary to achieve the desired printability. Keep in mind that the more of any thinner you add to ink, you are reducing the opacity and other properties of the product such as low bleed. The mixture can print through a wide variety of mesh ranges and will cure at 320 degrees F (160 degrees C).
Foil Release Additive is designed to provide foil release characteristics to Rutland's plastisol ink allowing the printer to make multi-color designs with foil adhering to desired areas. By mixing Foil Release Additive into all layers of ink, the design can be applied to dark shirts and still provide foil release capability.
NPT Thermo-Line Clear is a non-phthalate plastisol used for adhesive type applications and as a clear base for metallic powders and flakes.
Clear Gel is formulated as a plastisol for printing on 100% cotton fabrics. This product has excellent clarity and gloss when printing as a 3D type gel. It gives flowing, rounded edges with no appearance of screen marks.
NPT Viscosity Reducer is used to thin plastisol inks. Use 1.0% to 3.0% by weight to reduce the viscosity of thick ink. This product will not cure and should always be mixed in the correct ratio with a base.
ES0000 NPT Ultra Soft Primer Clear is designed to simplify stocking of multiple base plastisols. It functions as a multipurpose product that gives you the ability to make subdued, soft hand colors on dark garments and extremely bright soft hand colors on lights. NPT Ultra Soft Primer Clear is not a low bleed plastisol, therefore, it is not recommended for use on polyester/cotton dark fabrics.
ES0266 NPT Barrier Base is a high opaque, low bleed under base that has been formulated for maximum opacity and excellent bleed resistance on 100% Polyester. ES0266 NPT Barrier Base prints with a satin finish and is grey in color similar to Pantone 430 C.
• Short body plastisol for easy printing.
• Low tack for fast shearing action.
• No viscosity modifications necessary.
• Superior low bleed properties.
EV HO Base is formulated as a press-ready non-phthalate plastisol base for mixing colors using C3 NPT Color Boosters and printing on 100% Cotton or over a NPT low bleed underlay when printing on poly/cotton blends.
Mix NPT Fiberbond at 3% by weight to colors when printing on light cotton garments to reduce fibrillation. Mix 7.5% by weight to EN (NPT Nylon Mesh Series) inks for printing on tightly woven nylon such as umbrellas, bags and nylon jackets.
M00009 Quick Flash Additive – M00009 is mixed into a plastisol at up to 10% by weight to speed up the flash cure time of the ink.
Rutland Flame Retardant Plastisol is a self-extinguishing material if the ink has been properly fused.
Discharge base is used with pigments. Mix pigments at up to 30% to create dischargeable colors. Test all color mixes for suitability prior to mixing production quantities.
WB0510 Thickener – Used at ½ to 1% to increase viscosity of WB-99 ink. This would lead to an increase in opacity.
D-Base is a clear, waterbase discharge ink. Suitable fabrics are easily discharged producing an extremely soft-hand. D-Base can be used as a color-stripping (bleaching) underbase or can be used with pigments. D-Base can be used in conjunction with other ink systems to produce multiple effects. D-Base's rheology and flow characteristics allow it to be printed with high mesh counts. This produces very fine image detail and a softer finish.
U-Base is a white underbase discharge ink specifically designed for use in conjunction with plastisol and water-based inks. U-Base is used as a color-stripping (bleaching) underbase. The natural fabric color is replaced with a white underbase. Suitable fabrics are easily discharged producing an extremely soft-hand. U-Base's rheology and flow characteristics allow it to be printed with high mesh counts, which produces very fine image detail and a softer finish.
D-Powder is a discharge activator. Stir in 3-6%, by weight, and mix well. Different percentages of the Activator will affect the discharge results; increase or decrease in order to achieve desired results. Mix only enough for current production requirements. Activated ink should be us ed within 8 hours.
P-Charge is an ink additive that will make Plastisol inks perform like waterbased discharge inks. The results are a softer hand and the feel of a waterbased print without having to have a separate mixing system.
W-Base is a clear base for waterbase printing. W-Base is designed to be used with pigment systems or as an extender for standard waterbase colors. W-Base has great color reflection for strong vivid colors when mixed with CCI's CMS Color Mixing System.
Plasticharge Additive makes it easy to print bright, colorful, soft-hand prints on discharge-dyed garments by transforming selected Union Ink plastisol inks into discharge inks. A unique feature of Plasticharge prints is that they are water absorbent.
Nylobond is an additive which, when mixed with Union Ink Plastisol Colors, will provide adhesion to most water-proofed nylon jackets and other garments. Extensive tests have shown that Nylobond is effective with all Union Ink Plastisols: However, the PLUS and PATH series inks give the best results with very good opacity.
Unilon is a hot-melt adhesive powder used to improve the adhesion of plastisol heat transfers to nylon, polyester and other synthetic garments, including those with water-proof coatings. Unilon powder is also used to increase the adhesion and washability of foil transfers.
This is the industry standard in Plastisol Reducer/Detackifier. If you're having a hard time pushing ink through your screen, you may need to reduce it. If you are getting ink buildup on the bottom of your screens you may need a detackifier. Don't use chemicals like "mineral spirits" to reduce your ink. They will throw your inks out of balance and cause them to not cure properly! PLRE 9000 is the new "PLUS 9000". It is now phthalate-free to meet up with the new industry standards. If you print on any youth sized garments, they MUST be printed with phthalate free inks and additives!
Designs printed with Unistretch White and Unistretch Clear exhibit high elongation and resist cracking when the design is stretched beyond normal proportions. Unistretch is available pre-mixed in white or in a clear (UNSE-9160) that can be added to any Union plastisol color or overprinted on top of flashed colors to achieve these same results. Even though Unistretch Clear can be added to any color, best results are achieved when it is added to the Athletic Gloss, Maxopake or Mixopake series of inks. Unistretch plastisols are especially effective when printed upon extremely stretchy fabrics like Lycra or Spandex.
The principle is simple. The foil has a top clear carrier sheet and a shiny foil image is applied to the underside of this sheet. The foil portion of the sheet will stick to most 'adhesives'. In this industry, plastisol is the adhesive used to pull the foil off the carrier sheet and hold it in place on the garment. All you need is a heat press and you are in business! Foil can easily be applied to direct screen printing. Just make sure to use a low mesh count so there is plenty of ink for the foil to adhere to. The secret is to make sure the print is as smooth as possible.
Holographic Glitter Plastisol is a series of intense sparkling, glitter colors. Designs will have the appearance of a multi-colored glitter when direct sunlight or a point light source is reflected off the holographic particles.
TransPuff is a plastisol ink system designed to provide raised puff effects by the heat transfer method. The system consists of: TransPuff Ink, Unilon Powder and Trans-55 Paper. TransPuff Plastisol Inks produce high-loft ink films with a flat finish and good abrasion resistance. The inks, being plastisols, will not dry in the screen. TransPuff can be used on T-shirts, sweatshirts, cap fronts, cap panels and other knitted and woven cotton or polycotton garments.
Union Ink Glitter Plastisols are recommended when printing directly on fabrics, where they give just as brilliant results as when using the more expensive Super Glitters. They are suitable for transfer printing but yield less brilliant results than Super Glitters.
On some nylon materials, these inks will adhere satisfactorily when reduced with 10-15 percent SOLV-1498 Reducer.
Plastipuff is a plastisol puff ink formulated to cure and expand rapidly. It also produces an exceptionally strong, long-lasting ink film with a high uniform finish and excellent abrasion resistance. The inks should be used on T-shirts, sweatshirts and other woven cotton and cotton/polyester garments.
Hi-Gloss Gel Clear (PLFX-9040) is an improved, specially formulated clear for creating thick and glossy, wet look prints. It can be applied directly on garments or over under base, flashed colors. Hi-Gloss Gel Clear is crystal clear and does not shear down during the print run, but will maintain a constant viscosity from start to finish.
A high opacity soft hand base for use with standard pigments on cotton and cotton blend knit fabrics. For synthetic or hard finish fabrics use Pavostretch series or Nylo-Opaque series.
Screen printers can mix their own phosphorescent plastisols by purchasing UNION INK'S Phorescent Green Powder (ADDI-1524) and Ultrasoft PLUS-9030 Clear for Metallics.
ES NPT Jewel Tone is formulated as a press-ready plastisol for printing on 100% Cotton or polycotton. The NPT Jewel Tone Gold can be colored to produce an array of metallic colors.
ES NPT Jewel Tone is formulated as a press-ready plastisol for printing on 100% cotton or polycotton. The NPT Jewel Tone Silver can be colored to produce an array of metallic colors.
ES NPT Metallics are formulated as a press-ready plastisol for printing on 100% cotton or polycotton.
ES Sparkle Glitter gives a festive look to otherwise flat, boring print designs. Use this glitter to decorate the garment for festive occasions and special events. The large particle glitter flake provides plenty of sparkle and glimmer.
ES0008 NPT Crystalina is a press-ready sparkle plastisol used for creating specialty effects when screen printing on textiles.
EA0015 NPT Dulling Paste/Suede Additive can be mixed into plastisol inks to eliminate gloss after it is cured. Mix 3% by weight into wet plastisol. Use it at 10% to 15% to create suede looking plastisol. This product will not cure and should always be mixed in the correct ratio with a base.
M00010 Powder Thickener #10 – Add up to 1% by weight to thicken a plastisol. Thicker plastisol inks will print with more opacity.
Mix up to 5% NPT Tack Free additive into a NPT ink to reduce the wet ink tack for easier printing and the after tack (Hot Tack) after a flash. Adding NPT Tack Free additive will reduce the bleed characteristics of Low Bleed inks and increase the flash cure time depending on how much is used.
EA0055 is a puff concentrate. Use at up to 15% by weight to make a puff ink from any NPT opaque plastisol color. Mix thoroughly. EA0055 may also be used to take the gloss from plastisol ink. Add 2% by weight to an NPT plastisol ink to make a matte finish.
NPT X-Glu adhesive is formulated as a press-ready plastisol for printing on 100% Cotton fabrics or over a low bleed underlay on poly/cotton. It has excellent adhesion qualities. Can be used on most textile fabrics where a printable adhesive is needed.
NPT Blister Base is designed to provide great adhesion when printed onto textiles.
QA-1670 is a concentrated plastisol printing ink which has been formulated so that when added to a finished ink, it produces a high "Puff" effect on a variety of fabrics.
STR-100 is a ready-to-use plastisol ink that is used to improve strength and elongation of standard plastisol inks. It can also be pigmented or used as a clear overprint.
Crescent Bronze Powders can be used for all your metallic needs. Perfect | 3,057 |
By Courses
Login to CSCMPtv
CSCMPtv Registrant
New to CSCMPtv? Click here create your account
Check your email for the confirmation link.
This highly interactive session details a thoughtful and actionable methodology to extracting hidden profit by connecting people and business processes in order to maximize customer value at the lowest possible total cost. Learn how SCM and leadership is critical to overall business success, recognizing the need to become system thinkers while collaborating to improve the business across all processes.
CEU Credit: 1
Thomas Goldsby
Professor of Logistics and Chair of the Department of Marketing & Logistics at the Fisher College of Business, The Ohio state University
Harry T. Mangurian, Jr. Foundation Professor in Business Professor of Logistics Chair, Department of Marketing and Logistics Fisher College of Business The Ohio State University Columbus, OH (USA) 43210 Dr. Thomas J. Goldsby is the Harry T. Mangurian, Jr. Foundation Professor in Business, Professor of Logistics, and Chair of the Department of Marketing and Logistics at The Ohio State University's Fisher College of Business. Dr. Goldsby holds a B.S. in Business Administration from the University of Evansville, M.B.A. from the University of Kentucky, and Ph.D. in Marketing and Logistics from Michigan State University. Dr. Goldsby is Co-Editor-in-Chief of the Journal of Business Logistics and former Co-Editor-in-Chief of Transportation Journal. He serves as Associate Director of the Center for Operational Excellence (COE), Research Fellow of the National Center for the Middle Market, and a research associate of the Global Supply Chain Forum, all housed at Ohio State's Fisher College of Business. His research interests include logistics strategy, supply chain integration, and the theory and practice of lean and agile supply chain strategies. He has published more than 50 articles in academic and professional journals and serves as a frequent speaker at academic conferences, executive education seminars, and professional meetings. Professor Goldsby is co-/author of five books: Logistics Management: Enhancing Competitiveness and Customer Value (MyEducator, 2015), The Definitive Guide to Transportation (Financial Times, 2014), Global Macrotrends and Their Impact on Supply Chain Management (Financial Times, 2013), Lean Six Sigma Logistics: Strategic Development to Operational Success (J. Ross Publishing, 2005), and The Design and Management of Sustainable Supply Chains (Cambridge University Press, forthcoming 2018). Dr. Goldsby is a recipient of the Best Paper Award at the Transportation Journal (2012-2013), Bernard J. LaLonde Award at the Journal of Business Logistics (2007), and has twice received the Accenture Award for best paper published in the International Journal of Logistics Management (1998 and 2002). He has received recognition for excellence in teaching at Iowa State University, The Ohio State University, and the University of Kentucky. He delivered a course on Business Operations for The Great Courses' Critical Business Skills series in 2015. Further, he is recognized as one of the most productive researchers all-time in the field of Logistics Management. Professor Goldsby is a member of the selection committees for the following industry awards: Gartner's Top 25 Supply Chains, Logistics Quarterly magazine's Sustainability Study and Awards program, and the University of Kentucky's Corporate Sustainability Awards. Dr. Goldsby has supervised more than 100 Lean/Six Sigma supply chain projects with industry partners, chaired seven Ph.D. dissertations, and served as an investigator on five federally funded research projects, exceeding $2 million in grant proceeds. In his spare time, Dr. Goldsby competes as one of the top masters (over-40) runners in America for distances<|fim_middle|> books include two Shingo Research award-winning books: People: a leader's day to day guide to building, managing, and sustaining lean organizations (Karmack Publications) and Building a Lean Fulfillment Stream (Lean Enterprise Institute). Additionally, Robert is the author of Everything I Know About Lean I Learned in First Grade (Karmack Publications) and Lean Six Sigma Logistics (J. Ross Publishing). His debut novel, Drift and Hum (Karmack Publications), has won multiple awards including the IBPA Benjamin Franklin Gold Winner Award for Best First Book-Fiction. Robert has received numerous prominent industry awards, most notably, the 2015 Distinguished Service Award by the Council of Supply Chain Management Professionals (CSCMP). Robert complements his professional experience with a Bachelor Degree in Mathematics, an MBA in Finance, and a Six Sigma Black Belt. Contact Robert at Robert@leancor.com
Books, Videos, and Other Publications
Discovering Hidden Profit (Karmack Publications)
People: a leader's day to day guide to building, managing, and sustaining lean organizations (Karmack Publications) (Shingo Research Award)
Building a Lean Fulfillment Stream (Lean Enterprise Institute) (Shingo Research Award)
Everything I Know About Lean I Learned in First Grade (Karmack Publications)
Lean Six Sigma Logistics (J. Ross Publishing)
Drift and Hum (Karmack Publications) (Debut novel)
View business from a horizontal perspective to drive leadership dialogue and improvement activities
Learn the operating principles and management methods to connect core processes
Complete a self-assessment of your organizationu2019s current state for advanced performance.
Non-Member Price: $50
Member Price: $25 | between the mile and the marathon.
Robert Martichenko
Chief Executive Officer, LeanCor
Robert O. Martichenko was born in Timmins, Ontario, Canada, and he and his family have lived in the United States for the past two decades. He is the Founder and Chief Executive Officer of LeanCor Supply Chain Group. LeanCor Supply Chain Group is a trusted supply chain partner with a mission to advance the world's supply chains. LeanCor's three integrated divisions – LeanCor Training and Education, LeanCor Consulting, and LeanCor Logistics – help organizations eliminate waste, improve supply chain performance, and build a culture of operational excellence. In addition to leading LeanCor, Robert is a senior instructor for the Lean Enterprise Institute and the Georgia Tech Supply Chain and Logistics Institute. As well, Robert is a board advisor for a private company and does volunteer work for multiple universities focused on supply chain management and leadership development. Robert has written several business books and one novel – most recently, Discovering Hidden Profit (Karmack Publications). His other | 209 |
The Youth Service supports young people aged 16 to 19 to engage in education, training, and work-based learning, and to have the life skills to be a successful contributing member of the community.
The Youth Service aims to get young people into education, training or work-based learning. This will help young people gain the skills to find a job and have an independent future.
Young people work with community-based providers who give guidance, support and encouragement to help them find the education, training or work-based learning that works.
About Youth Services - http://www.youthservice.govt.nz
Auckland Youth Services
Solomon Group – Manurewa: http://www.solomongroup.co.nz/
Springboard Community Works: http://www.springboard.org.nz/
STRIVE Community Trust – Mangere: http://www.strive.org.nz
Youthline Auckland – Grey Lynn: http://www.youthline.co.nz
Youth Service West – Youth Horizons – New Lynn: https://www.youthorizons.org.nz
The career experts – to help you to make informed choices about learning and work. Choose, improve or change careers. Tips on finding work as well as study and training options. Career ideas and write a CV.
Careers Services: https://www.careers.govt.nz
Youth Law Aotearoa: http://www.youthlaw.co.nz
YOUTH LAW SERVICES
YouthLaw Tino Rangatiratanga Taitamariki is a free community law centre for children and young people nationwide. We provide free legal services to anyone aged under 25 who are unable to access legal help elsewhere, or those acting on their behalf. We're a registered charity (CC10505) and we're part<|fim_middle|>.org.nz/
Community Approach identifies seriously 'at risk' young people early – before they enter the formal justice system and provides support and mentoring for young people and families in crisis. Two groups benefit from the programme, the community, which is safer and more peaceful, and the young person who stays out of the justice system and is able to explore his or her full potential as a person and citizen of society.
Community Approach: http://www.communityapproach.co.nz/
COMMUNITY APPROACH | of the nationwide community law centre network. We're the only organisation operating across NZ where children and young people can access free legal services just for them.
We provide four main services to children and young people:
legal advice, assistance and representation (legal services)
law reform and youth advocacy
TURN YOUR LIFE AROUND
The TYLA Youth Development Trust was established in 1996, tasked with finding a better means of reducing the number of young offenders in New Zealand.
Our ambition is to identify 'at risk' youth, who are on a pathway to crime, and to intervene before their wayward journeys take them too far.
To empowers young people at risk of offending to turn their lives around and take responsibility for their actions. We do this by visiting youth and their schools, visiting parents and youth in their homes, engaging youth with life skills learned at camp, holiday programmes etc. Working collaboratively with other organisations to ensure information is shared and that TYLA programmes are consistent with best service delivery.
TYLA – Turn Your Life Around: http://www.tyla.org.nz
GENESIS YOUTH TRUST
Genesis Youth Trust offers holistic wraparound services for first time and recidivist youth offenders and their families referred from NZ Police, Child Youth and Family Services and Local Schools.
Our services and programmes are available in Counties Manukau West, Counties Manukau South and Auckland East. Our wraparound approach includes Youth/Social work, Youth Mentoring, and Counselling.
Our aim is to reduce and prevent youth offending by engaging our clients into education, employment, training and connecting them into positive community activities. We also aim to build positive relationships between youth and their families and address the underlying causes of offending.
Genesis Youth Trust: http://genesisyouthtrust | 356 |
Step into the new Primary Care Old Town office at the corner of S. Washington Street and Franklin Street and you will see that the traditional doctor's office has been reinvented. Everything about the office enhances patient care, comfort and convenience. Staffed by an experienced patient care team, the practice provides state-of-the-art medical care, including same-day urgent appointments, extended hours and in-house lab services.
"We are bringing the experience and excellence of Virginia Hospital Center—named one of the 100 Top Hospitals® in America for 2015 by Truven Health Analytics—to Old Town Alexandria," says John Charalambopoulos, MD, MSc.That's especially important to Dr. Charalambopoulos, or Dr. "C" as his patients call him, because he is also a member of the<|fim_middle|>9, Dr. C is board certified in internal medicine and completed his training at Georgetown University School of Medicine. Northern Virginia Magazine has named him a Top Doctor the last three years running.
That's not surprising because of his approach to medicine. "A physical is not just a quick once over," says Dr. C, whose clinical interests focus on preventive care and complexities of adult medicine. | Old Town community. He lives only a few blocks from the office and walks his kids to school on his way to work.
Formerly with the VHC Physician Group – Primary Care Arlington practice since 200 | 43 |
Tag: Port Angeles
Tom Colvin and the Summer of 1966
4 Comments on Tom Colvin and the Summer of 1966
Doug Long, Tom Colvin, and Billy Kombol at my<|fim_middle|>, Summer Baseball, Sunshine Superman, Tom Colvin | 8th birthday party, July 5, 1961.
It's funny how a song can evoke memories of times long passed. I'll never forget the song from July 1966, and where I first heard it. I was visiting a childhood friend, Tom Colvin who'd moved away after 4th grade. We were best friends during our elementary school years. On their last night in Enumclaw, he and his sister Julie slept over at our house. Somehow, three years later, Tom and I hatched a plan (made real by our mothers) where I'd stay with the Colvins for a week.
I didn't know it then but I'd just played my last game of Little League baseball. Playing second base, in the second game of a double-header, a sharp grounder hit a rock bounding into my face and producing a nasty fat lip. I left the next day to visit Tom. Back then parents had neither the time nor inclination to spend six hours driving kids from Enumclaw to Port Angeles and back again. So Mom drove to Tacoma and placed me on a Greyhound bus. It was a long ride. The bus stopped at a half dozen towns along the way. I remembered my mother's final directive, "Now make sure you get off in Port Angeles!" I called their home from a payphone to say I arrived, but it took some time for Mrs. Colvin to pick me up. In those 30 minutes, I discovered what shabby places bus stations really are, despite the allure of vending machines and pinball.
7th grade baseball. Front: Les Hall (of course!) Back: Del Sonneson, Tom DeBolt, Jim Ewalt, Keith Parmenter, Jim Clem, Wayne Podolak. Sponsored by the Enumclaw Junior Chamber (J.C.), Summer 1966.
The Colvins lived in a daylight rambler several houses up from Highway 101. It was next to a two-story motel and restaurant, where Tom's brother Jeff worked. That week was cloudy each morning, a summer weather pattern typical near the sea. Tom's sister, Janet owned just about every one of The Animals' albums. Most mornings we listened to their songs time and again until the marine air lifted and we went out to play. Mickie Most was a record producer who made pop stars of the Animals and would soon do the same for a Scottish folk balladeer about to become a groovy, trendsetting pop star. His name was Donovan.
Towards the end of my stay, Tom and I went to a beach party on the Straights of Juan de Fuca at Crescent Beach. Tom was popular with his friends. I was a shy kid from Enumclaw with a fat lip. There were lots of junior high girls, each pretty in their own way, but none turned their attention to me.
Someone's car radio was playing in a time before "boom boxes." I heard the song of that summer . . . and every summer for the next 45 years––Donovan's "Sunshine Superman." Memories of that moment are etched in my mind. The teenage girls no longer mattered. The syncopated beat, sing-along melody, and hip lyrics did.
Donovan's Sunshine Superman single, released July 1, 1966.
At week's end, I joined the Colvins and visited their friends who owned a cabin at a nearby lake. It was a serene and sunny Sunday when my Port Angeles vacation came to an end. I said goodbye to the Colvins and my family picked me up, coming from nearby Hood Canal, where they'd spent the first half of our summer trip. We ferried across the straights to Vancouver Island and made our way to Salt Spring Island where Mom reserved a cabin for the second week of our planned vacation.
There wasn't much to do at the faded resort of rundown cabins where we stayed. There was no television. With little to do and the sun shining warmly each day, we had to figure out ways to have fun. Near our cabin was a small inlet with a narrow channel opening producing strong currents when the tide ebbed and flowed. We built a makeshift raft of logs and planks and at high tide rode the Tom Sawyer-like raft down what we pretended were rapids into the larger bay beyond.
In our cabin, a radio played, but the Canadian stations weren't playing Donovan. But, I must have heard Brian Hyland's "The Joker Went Wild" thirty times that week. I Googled the song and found out for some strange reason, it was the number one song on Vancouver's Top 40 station that week.
It was there I played the only round of golf I ever played with my father. The course was dumpy and so were our rented clubs. The grass was bone-dry, so balls rolled easily along the fairway. Dad, Barry, and I knocked balls about and putted across bumpy greens. We didn't keep score.
We soon exhausted things to do on Salt Spring Island, so cut our stay short. Our holiday ended in Victoria, where we kids insisted upon staying at a motel with a pool and television. That evening on the local news broadcast, the reporter told the story of a police crackdown on prostitution in the city. I asked Mom, "What's a prostitute?" She dissembled an oblique explanation. There was a hint of the end of summer in the air.
I saw Tom Colvin one more time before our friendship was set aside. His family visited Enumclaw and we spent an afternoon fiddling about in a makeshift tree fort we made in the empty lot behind our house. Much later Tom landed in Portland, but in days before the internet looking up an old friend was well-nigh impossible. Years passed and I'd hear occasional reports of his doings from friends of friends.
Quite by accident, we reunited one Friday night in July 2017 at the Bellingham Bells baseball game against the Port Angeles Lefties. He was there with his P.A. buddies. I was there to see Jim Clem, who coaches for the Bells and once pitched for the local Peninsula Community College team. All of Jim's baseball pals were part of the group that Tom came with.
Bill Kombol and Tom Colvin at Civic Stadium, Port Angeles on July 7, 2017.
Our worlds united on a warm night when two schoolboy chums reconnected 51 years later. Tom and I spent the couple hours at the baseball game reminiscing about our lives long ago and today. By game's end, we said goodbye. Three-and-one-half-hour later, I was back home with new memories of another day.
Tom and I became Facebook friends but we haven't seen each other since. When our lives might next intersect, only fate knows.
* * * Afterword:
This story has a sad ending. Four years after our reunion, his sister, Julie responded to a Facebook message I'd sent when my essay was first published. She told me Tom suffered from dementia and needed to be placed in a home. Like many suffering from diseases of the mind, some long-term memory remained intact, but his short-term cognition was impaired so frustration ruled his world.
Early on the morning of Aug. 29, 2022, Tom passed away. A Celebration of Life was held on Oct. 15, 2022, which would have been Tom's 69th birthday. I attended with Jim Clem whose team's game in Port Angeles led to our 2017 reunion. I introduced myself to his children, Jesse, Rick, and Angela plus other family members.
At the Celebration several people told me the same story. Though much of Tom's memory was lost, one of the stories he told his family during those last years was of a friend from Enumclaw who met him at a baseball game and reunited a friendship forged so many years ago. May you rest in peace, Tom Colvin.
Tags Angela Alderson, Audrie Colvin, Bellingham Bells, Bill Kombol, Brian Hyland, Crescent Beach, Donovan, Enumclaw, Greyhound, Jeff Colvin, Jesse Colvin, Jim Clem, Julie Colvin, Julie Kochanek, LIttle League, Peninsula Community College, Port Angeles, Port Angeles Lefties, Rick Colvin, Salt Spring Island | 1,740 |
tours /
Hotel Detail
Sri Lanka's iconic landmark, The Galle Face Hotel, is situated in the heart of Colombo, along the seafront and facing the famous Galle Face Green.One of the oldest hotels east of the Suez, The Galle Face Hotel embraces its rich history and legendary traditions, utilizing them to create engaging, immersive experiences that resonate with old and new generations of travelers alike. No visit to Sri Lanka is complete without staying at this majestic hotel, built in 1864 and recently restored back to its former glory.
city: Colombo 3
Minimum Stay: One Night
number of people: 2 adult
hotel class: 4
Cable TV: FREE
Telephone: YES
Room Service: Included
Minibar: FREE
CANCELLATION: STRICT
Get the Best offers for your journey. Right now!.
+94 77 94 33437 [email protected]
Memories of a bygone age are evoked when you step into the Ceylon Suite. Its rooms, including the one bedroom, are historic. This spacious suite is 80 square meters and has views to inspire. Access to the Long room is automatic and Butler service is available upon request.
Wonderful views across the city and the Galle Face green enhance the grandness of the Commonwealth suite. Its name evokes the opulence which is displayed in this wonderful one bedroom suite and at 80 square meters, there is ample room to entertain friends and colleagues. Access to the Long room is automatic and Butler service is available upon request.
Possibly the largest hotel suite in Sri Lanka with three stately<|fim_middle|> areas across the property.
Contact Info (Sri Lank)
No. 88/B Kahatowita, Nittambuwa, Sri Lanka.
Sri Lanka: +94 33 227 9158
Contact Info (Kuwait)
P O Box : 284- AL Rehab, 86153- Kuwait.
Kuwait : +96 55 081 0017
© 2018 All rights reserved. Site by AAYUS Solutions | bedrooms, sitting room and a balcony that befits your most important dinner parties with breath taking views of the iconic Galle Face Green As the wife of Napoleon III, Emperor of France, the Empress Eugenie stayed in this suite on her only visit to Ceylon in the early 1900's
Queen Junior Suite range in size from 50 to 60 square meters, with either sea views or sea views with balconies and offer elegant styling with a feel of a bygone era. The timeless lines, high ceilings and large windows all work to provide the ultimate luxury in an urban environment. We also have the added option of Junior Suite Twin rooms that are both sea view an non-sea view. These Junior Suites enjoy the unrivalled experience of our Long Room, a private lounge with elegant personal service.
A spacious suite of over 200 square meters, at the top of the hotel with breathtaking views of the landmark Galle Face Green and the Indian Ocean. The King Emperor Suite is an extremely private one bedroom suite with space for extensive entertaining. Access to the Long room is automatic and Butler service is available upon request.
LANDMARK QUEEN ROOM
The Landmark rooms are 30 square meters in size and are rich in tone with sumptuous upholstery and elegant mixes of modern and classical finishes. Twin and queen size beds are available and these rooms offer complimentary Wi-Fi, satellite LCD televisions, air conditioning, a safety deposit box, a selection of local teas, complimentary soft drink selection and various luxury amenities. All our rooms are non-smoking. Smoking is permitted in designated areas across the property.
LANDMARK TWIN ROOM
OCEANIC BALCONY JUNIOR SUITE
OCEANIC JUNIOR SUITE
PREMIER OCEAN BALCONY ROOM
Premier rooms feature either sea views or sea views with balconies. Approximately 40 square meters in size, these rooms feature twin,queen and king sized beds and give bright and interesting views due to their elevated location. Their Premiere rooms offer complimentary Wi-Fi, satellite LCD televisions, air conditioning, a safety deposit box, a selection of local teas, complimentary soft drink selection and various luxury amenities. These Premier Rooms enjoy the unrivaled experience of our Long Room, a private lounge with elegant personal service.
PREMIER OCEAN VIEW ROOM
PREMIER OCEAN VIEW TWIN ROOM
The Presidential suite is set over one hundred square meters and has a light and airy sitting room with Dining room seating up to ten guests. There are two bedrooms, one of which is a twin bedded room. Wonderful bright rooms with incredible views of the Indian Ocean and a balcony to watch the deep red sun disappear over the horizon. Access to the Long room is automatic and Butler service is available upon request.
Over the years, they have had many important visitors from Holland staying in the Royal Dutch suite. It is very similar to the Royal Thai suite in size at seventy square meters and has one bedroom, a lounge and dining area and a useful study. The Balcony is a must for drinks and a sunset and perhaps a candle lit dinner later. Access to the Long room is automatic and Butler service is available upon request.
Frequented by members of Thailand's elite in the early part of the last century, this suite is compact and homely and boasts 70 square meters, consisting of a lounge and dining room and one bedroom. The balcony faces west and overlooks the Hotel's historic gardens and the Indian Ocean. Access to the Long room is automatic and Butler service is available upon request.
SUPERIOR QUEEN ROOM
Our Superior rooms feature queen and twin size beds. A colonial feel with wonderful wood finishes give these rooms a nostalgic feeling. These 27 - 30 square meter rooms offer complimentary Wi-Fi, satellite LCD televisions, air conditioning, a safety deposit box, a selection of local teas, complimentary soft drink selection and various luxury amenities. All our rooms are non-smoking. Smoking is permitted in designated areas across the property.
Superior rooms feature queen and twin size beds. A colonial feel with wonderful wood finishes give these rooms a nostalgic feeling. These 27 - 30 square meter rooms offer complimentary Wi-Fi, satellite LCD televisions, air conditioning, a safety deposit box, a selection of local teas, complimentary soft drink selection and various luxury amenities. All our rooms are non-smoking. Smoking is permitted in designated | 909 |
As the title suggests, this book explores the possibilities of life on other worlds but importantly it also delves deeper into the chemical restraints or possibilities for types of organisms that have not evolved here on Earth. It is clearly written and explains chemical processes in an easy to understand manner so I would recommend this book to astrobiologically-inclined academics and amateurs alike.
The book reviews numerous potential habitats<|fim_middle|> Earth that comparing Titan to the primordial chemistries and subsequent evolution of life on Earth is somewhat unfounded. The complex carbon chemistry on Titan is interesting planetary research in its own right without the need to link it to the origin of life on Earth.
The authors also explore theories into the evolution and universal occurrence of intelligent life, leading into considerations of the eventual fate of intelligent life and also other types of organisms. This is a well-rounded book that considers the history and future of life on Earth, the solar system and elsewhere in the Universe. | in the solar system and relates these to the potential of finding life on similar exoplanets. With a chapter on the characteristics of life on Earth this book caters for those without an in-depth knowledge of life on Earth and therefore the concepts presented in this book can be understood by those that have not had a broad education in natural sciences. This book occasionally veers away from the stereotypical watery environments, such as those of the subsurface of Mars or the subsurface oceans of Europa, to delve into the possibilities of life in such environments as the hydrocarbon lakes on Titan and the thick atmospheres of Saturn or Venus.
Concerning Titan, a particular point raised in this book is the differences between Titan and the Earth. So if life on Titan were to be discovered then the lesson would be that life can be very different from us rather than gaining insight into the origins of life on Earth. I think this is an important point which is lost in many papers that purse Titan's secrets; too often research compares Titan to primordial habitats on Earth but the composition, characteristics (e.g. temperature) and history of Titan are so unlike that of | 230 |
Looking for the cheapest car insurance in Clatskanie, Oregon? We can help you compare the best deals. Simply enter your Zip Code in the form above and you will be on your way to finding cheap Clatskanie, OR auto insurance quotes from the best providers in Oregon.
One of the most important types of insurance that you can have if you are an adult is car insurance. It is legally required for all adult drivers. The type of insurance that you get can differ on each vehicle that you own. It depends upon whether or not you are making payments, or if you own the vehicle outright. Older vehicles will only need some form of liability insurance, whereas brand-new vehicles will need liability, collision, and comprehensive coverage. It can be very expensive if you own multiple vehicles, and if your rates have recently increased, it is definitely time to look for better premiums and coverage from a different provider. Here are a few of the best budget auto insurance coverage online tips that<|fim_middle|> have more financed on your automobile than it is worth, if your down payment is significantly less than twenty percent, or if you lease, you need to incorporate Gap Protection onto your vehicle insurance coverage. The Hole Protection will protect the extra sum, in excess of the worth, if you whole your car or it will get stolen, and the whole amount of the loan will be paid off.
Will not purchase your teen a automobile. Rather, give them the choice to share a vehicle already in the loved ones. This saves you cash on insurance because you can just insert them to your existing plan. Numerous insurance policy firms provide discounts to college students who regularly attain great grades.
Determine out how several miles you generate in a yr just before you get a vehicle insurance quotation. This is one more huge element in automobile insurance policies premiums, so you want to make sure the firm has an correct estimation of the quantity of time you commit on the highway. This could add up to massive cost savings on your quotation.
Shopping for automobile insurance policies typically feels frustrating to numerous folks, but it need not be a stressful expertise. By taking the time to educate your self on car insurance coverage and the many possibilities available to you, you will be capable to make the decision that is proper for you and your wants. | you can use as you are searching the web for the best rates available in Columbia county.
With so numerous diverse automobile options and so several insurance policies firms to pick from, issues can get confusing in a hurry if you don't know how to navigate by way of your insurance coverage possibilities. Check out this report and find out some great suggestions you can use on vehicle insurance coverage to conserve money.
Look about on the net for the ideal deal in car insurance. Most businesses now offer a quote system on the internet so that you don't have to invest valuable time on the cellphone or in an business office, just to find out how considerably income it will value you. Get a few new estimates each 12 months to make confident you are obtaining the very best attainable price.
If at all possible, you need to limit your insurance coverage claims if you want to save cash on your coverage in the prolonged run. If you have a tiny fender-bender with an individual, the two of you can make a decision to take care of it with out involving the insurance coverage organization. Acquiring insurance policy concerned for each scratch on your automobile will send out your premiums via the roof.
To save funds on automobile insurance policy, be sure to just take your young children off of your coverage as soon as they've moved out on their own. If they are nonetheless at college, you might be in a position to get a price cut by means of a distant college student credit. These can use when your little one is attending college a specified length from residence.
If you want to conserve cash on vehicle insurance policies, you may possibly want to consider choosing from the higher deductibles that are offered by your company. This indicates you will have far more out of pocket expenditures must you be associated in an auto accident, but it will reduced your high quality significantly.
Car insurance policies for teenagers does not have to value you deep in the purse. You can reduce your teen's charges by undertaking a handful of simple factors. Make sure your teen effectively completes a driver's education and learning training course and stays on the honor roll. This will maintain the price of your insurance policies much decrease.
Continue to be out of the hole. If you | 443 |
Top Cell Phone Companies Offering the Best Plans
22/01/2020 22/01/2020 by Hassan
Get the best value deals on cell phone plans from these top cell phone companies
Wondering which cell phone carrier is best for you? Here're the top cell phone companies in 2020 you may want to take a look at.
Picking the best cell phone company should be simple. You go with the company that offers the best coverage, the most flexible plans, and the widest selection of top- and mid-tier phones, all at a great price. But the most expensive provider still charges more than twice as much as the least, for commensurately better service. Where should you draw the line between price and performance? Bellow, we have listed the top cell phone companies with the best cell phone plans in 2020
Most Companies currently offer a wide range of choices for consumers, from well-known brand names to less known but surprisingly well-established companies. With so much competition from cell phone companies in the last few years, prices of phone plans have definitely fallen, along with plans being offered without contracts. There are many options of plans available, suitable for the most casual to serious users.
The best cell phone service in the nation continues to come from Verizon Wireless. The brand's extensive coverage, speed, and reliability are unmatched, but great speeds are backed by even better prices.
Our Top Picks for Best Cell Phone Companies of 2020
Almost all prices are susceptible to change so please check the service plan website for current information details.
Talk/Text: Unlimited
Data: 4GB 4G LTE
Price: $19/month Details
Data: 10GB 4G LTE
Data: Unlimited 4G LTE
Tello Mobile – Most Affordable Carrier
Tello is one of the top cell phone companies in the market, and for good reason. Tello allows you to build your own customized plan based on what you exactly need, which gives you full control of your minutes, texts, and data including options for no-data or data-only. You can add more of anything if you find your plan needs adjusting.
Tello offers cheap prepaid phone plans to fit any budget. Starting at just a few bucks a month the plans are infinitely customizable.
All plans come with unlimited free texting and tethering at no extra cost, and also free calls to Canada, Mexico, and China in addition to the U.S.
Customers have the option to purchase additional Pay as You Go plan credits for international calling and texting.
Although Tello doesn't necessarily have a family plan option it's important to note that it is one of the cheapest MVNOs on the market and so signing your family up for individual plans will save you hundreds in the long run.
All Tello's plans include free calls to Canada, Mexico, and China, plus mobile hotspot access with WiFi calling through their application at no extra cost, along with visual voicemail and unlimited 2G data. If you are not happy with your plan, you still can change it at any time.
$8/month: Get unlimited talk and text
$10/month: Get unlimited talk, text, and 1 GB of high-speed data
$39/month: Get unlimited talk, text, and unlimited high-speed data
View Details on Tello
Here are a few amazing facts about Tello Mobile:
Fully customizable plans; including Data Only plans for Tablets
Customers can upgrade or downgrade plans for free, anytime.
No contract, no overage fee, no administration fee, no activation fee and not even port out fees.
Customers can bring their own devices.
All plans include free tethering (hotspot)
Services are available nationwide in the USA.
Calls from USA to Canada, China and Mexico are included in all voice plans, at the same rate as domestic calls.
Tello Apps are available for Android and iOS devices, allowing in app outbound WIFI calling and easy account management
Xfinity Mobile – Affordable Unlimited Plan
Do you know about Xfinity Mobile? It's a Verizon MVNO that gets you unlimited nationwide talk and text and either $12 per GB of data or an "unlimited" plan for $45 per month (capped at 20GB). It's all the Verizon speed and coverage you could want but through Comcast!
while it's only available for subscribers of Comcast's home internet service, it's a pretty good deal for those that are.
Xfinity Mobile comes with unlimited nationwide calling and texting, access to more than 18 million Wi-Fi hotspots, and 100MB of shared monthly data are included by default with your regular Internet plan.
All Xfinity plans include unlimited talk and text, along with 18 million Wi-Fi hotspots. With the By the Gig plan, data can be shared across all lines, and users can switch from "By the Gig" to "Unlimited" data during their billing cycle at no additional charge.
1GB for $12/month ($12 per additional GB)
10GB for $60/month ($12 per additional GB)
Unlimited for $45/month per line on up to five lines, speeds reduced after 20GB
View Details on Xfinity Mobile
If you're planning to cut down your cell phone bill. Check out the cheapest cell phone plans for 2020
Verizon Wireless – Best Network Coverage
Verizon is the largest cell phone carrier in the U.S., it has a great reputation and has coverage even in many remote areas where "No Service" is the prominent message from most carriers. However, Verizon does tend to be on the more expensive side. What you're truly paying for is Verizon's reliability.
Verizon, one of the top carriers in the US, is introducing new pricing options for its prepaid phone plans. Now you can get 1GB for $30, 6GB for $35, 16GB for $45 or unlimited data for $65 a month. Keep in mind all reported prices take into account a $5 discount you get for signing up to AutoPay.
You can save $10 a month for each additional 6GB prepaid plan you add to your account, $15 for each additional 16GB line, and $20 a month for each unlimited prepaid data plan. You can also mix and match prepaid plans, so you get an unlimited plan, but your family gets limited 4G data plans.
All Verizon prepaid plans include unlimited talk and text in the US and unlimited texting worldwide. The 16 GB plan and Unlimited plan included unlimited calling to Mexico and Canada.
6GB Plan: For $40/month ($35 with AutoPay)
16GB Plan: For $50/month ($45 with AutoPay)
Unlimited Data Plan: For $70/month ($65 with AutoPay)
Multi-Line Discount: Verizon makes it easy to add additional lines to its prepaid plans, and of course, the more lines you have the more you save. Here's how that looks:
Add a 6GB plan for $30 more (save $10)
Add a 16GB plan for $35 more (save $15)
Add an unlimited plan for $50 (save $20)
View Details on Verizon Prepaid
T-Mobile – Best for Heavy Data Users
After an unsuccessful merger with AT&T in 2012, T-Mobile stays the lowest of the large four U.S. cell phone companies. It now runs an LTE coverage network and after 1st announcing an HSPA+ network that provides LTE-comparable rates of speed.
T-Mobile is following in the footsteps of its competitors by offering a discount on its prepaid unlimited data plan. If you're a single person who doesn't like to be tied down and doesn't need too many extra features, T-Mobile's prepaid plans will be good for you. Data is capped, but you won't get charged overages when you surpass your allotment. Your speeds will be slower when you run out of 4G LTE data, but that's it.
The difference among the plans is the amount of 4G LTE data that comes with each. It starts at $40 per month for unlimited 10GB OF 4G LTE data or $50 and $60 plans come with unlimited data and unlimited plus of 4G LTE.
All T-Mobile prepaid plans include unlimited talk and text, and unlimited 2G data, along with unlimited music, which lets you stream as much music as you want without eating into your 4G LTE allotment. T-Mobile allows you to get up to 5 lines on your T-Mobile prepaid account. Here's the difference:
Simply Prepaid ($40/month): includes 10GB of 4G LTE data that will be throttled down to unlimited 2G speeds and high-speed mobile hotspot data access that uses your monthly data allotment.
One Line: $40/month
Two Lines: $70/month – ($35 per line)
Three Lines: $100/month – ($33 per line)
Four Lines: $130/month – ($33 per line)
Five Lines: $160/month – ($32 per line)
Simply Prepaid Unlimited ($50/month): includes unlimited of 4G LTE data but if you use more than 50GB, though, you could be de-prioritized or even throttled until your next billing cycle. It also offers unlimited mobile hotspot but limited to 3G speeds.
Simply Prepaid Unlimited Plus ($60/month): includes unlimited of 4G LTE data but if you use more than 50GB, though, you could be de-prioritized or even throttled until your next billing cycle. It also offers 10GB of mobile hotspot at 4G LTE speed.
View Details on T-Mobile Prepaid
List of Other Best Cell Phone Carriers & Plans in 2020
AT&T – Best full-featured Company
AT&T is one of the second-largest cell phone company in the United States. It provides single-line, business, single-line plans to fit every cell phone need. AT&T carrier has the difference of being the most high-priced of the large four companies, blocking seasonal promotions and specials.
AT&T also offers decent prepaid plans for those who want to go month by month. These are deals for people who are looking to save some money. For each line, you get unlimited talk and text, as well as unlimited messaging to more than 100 countries. You can also purchase extra data to use with your plan if you run out.
Now for $35 a month get 1GB, 8GB for $50, unlimited data for $65 or truly unlimited data for $75 a month. Keep in mind all reported prices take into account a $5 and $10 discount you get for signing up to AutoPay.
There's also an AT&T prepaid plan promotion that allows you to get the same 8GB data plan for just $25 a month. The catch is that you will have to pay $300 upfront. That means you will get 12 months of service.
All AT&T prepaid plans include unlimited talk and text in the US, Mexico, and Canada with unlimited texts to over 100 countries, along with roaming in Mexico and Canada for talk, text, and data. Here's the difference:
$50/month ($40 with AutoPay): 8GB of high-speed data with mobile hotspot access. Note: Unused high-speed data rolls over to next month
$65/month ($45 with AutoPay): Unlimited 4G LTE data but AT&T may temporarily slow data speeds when the network is busy.
$75/month ($55 with AutoPay): Unlimited 4G LTE data with 10GB of mobile hotspot for use in the U.S. Note: Users should not experience speed slowdowns unless they use over 22GB of data before their billing cycle ends.
Multi-Line Discount: AT&T allows you to get up to 5 lines on your AT&T prepaid account. Adding 2 or 3 lines will get you a $10 discount per month, and adding 4 or 5 will get you a $20 discount per month. For an additional discount, set up the AutoPay option on your account.
View Details on AT&T Prepaid
Sprint – Best for Seniors
Sprint is one of the top-four cell phone service carriers in the United States, and it's definitely the most affordable. But the price doesn't always make up for spotty service across the country. While Sprint's coverage isn't quite the same as what you'd get from Verizon or AT&T, it has gotten much better in the last few years.
Sprint prepaid plans are a little hazy right now. On its website, Sprint says its prepaid plans aren't available to new customers. Uncool. But if you're a long-term Sprint customer you can presumably opt for a prepaid wireless plan.
If you're looking to start afresh prepaid plan on a new carrier, you'll want to check out Tello Mobile which runs on Sprint Network. Those guys have some of the best prepaid deals out there.
If you're looking for the best cell phone carrier offering No Restrictions. Check out those best prepaid cell phone plans for 2020
Simple Mobile – Best Prepaid Unlimited
Simple Mobile is a TracFone-owned MVNO operating under T-Mobile's network, has recently made new changes to its prepaid plan options.
With the new changes in place, Simple Mobile is now offering an unlimited LTE data plan that costs only $50 per month and already comes with unlimited domestic talk and text. The other features included in the simple mobile cell phone plans are unlimited international texting and calling and full roaming access while in Mexico at no extra cost.
these plans include unlimited international texting, unlimited international calling to landlines in 64 countries, and unlimited international calling to Mexico, Canada, China, India, and 16 other countries.
All Simple Mobile plans include unlimited talk and text with international text, along with international calling to 69 destinations plus international roaming to 16 Latin American countries.
3GB plan for $25 a month ($20 with AutoPay) with mobile hotspot access
2GB plan for $30 a month ($28.50 with AutoPay) with mobile hotspot access
15GB plan for $40 a month ($37.50 with AutoPay) with mobile hotspot access
Unlimited data plan for $50 a month ($45 with AutoPay) with a 5GB mobile hotspot.
Unlimited data plan for $60 a month ($57 with AutoPay) with a 15GB mobile hotspot.
View Details on Simple Mobile
Boost<|fim_middle|> Phone Plans for Seniors
Privacy – Terms – Contact – About | Mobile – Best for Families
Boost Mobile markets itself as the phone company with no surprises. Phone plans include taxes and fees, and you won't get overage charges, so you'll know exactly how much you're paying when you sign up.
If you're OK sacrificing some of the extras such as international roaming or a specialized streaming service tacked on to your plan for free, Boost Mobile cell phone plans with unlimited talk, text, and data available for $50 a month, the plan includes 12GB of the mobile hotspot and streaming mobile-optimized HD video up to 480p. Customers can upgrade for an additional $10 per month to increase streaming quality to 1080p HD, and with Boost Dealz customers can watch a few monthly advertising videos per month to reduce the cost of their billing statement.
3 Gigs Plan ($35/month): Includes unlimited talk, text, and 3GB of 4G LTE data with 480p video streaming, and mobile hotspot access, along with some sort of Tidal subscription. Each additional line is an additional $35 per month
Unlimited Gigs Plan ($50/month): Includes unlimited talk, text, and unlimited of 4G LTE data with 480p video streaming, and 12GB of mobile hotspot, along with some sort of Tidal subscription.
Boost Unlimited Plus Plan ($60/month): Includes unlimited talk, text, and unlimited of 4G LTE data with 1080p video streaming, and 30GB of mobile hotspot, along with some sort of Tidal subscription.
Two Lines: $100/month – ($50 per line)
Boost Ultimate Unlimited Plan ($80/month): Includes unlimited talk, text, and unlimited of 4G LTE data with 1080p video streaming, and 50GB of mobile hotspot, along with some sort of Tidal subscription.
View Details on Boost Mobile
US Mobile – Best Flexible Phone Carrier
US Mobile is a no-contract cell phone carrier that offers customers calling plans that are flexible and enable them to decide the amount of talk, text, and data that they need every month. US Mobile plans are prepaid plans, which means they are paid for before the billing period before it begins.
US Mobile's new unlimited data plans all come with unlimited talk, text, and data. Subscribers can still choose their own speeds. Besides offering unlimited high-speed data options, there are now plans with a limited amount of high-speed data and they too are available at different speeds. The new plans are priced as follows.
$10/month: This plan includes unlimited talk and text
$20/month: This plan includes unlimited talk, text and 1.5GB of high-speed data
$30/month: This plan includes unlimited talk, text and 5GB of high-speed data
$40/month: This plan includes unlimited, talk, and high-speed data
View Details on US Mobile
Metro by T-Mobile – A Cheap T-Mobile Network
Metro uses T-Mobile's HSPA+ and LTE network, as it is owned entirely by the larger carrier. You have the option to purchase a phone through Metro or bring your own device that's compatible with the T-Mobile network.
All plans come with unlimited talk, text, data, Wi-Fi calling, caller ID, call waiting, 3-way calling, and Data Maximizer, a feature that helps optimize your high-speed data usage when streaming videos.
The unlimited data plans also include a free Google One membership, which includes 100GB of cloud storage on Google Drive, and the $60 plan even throws in an Amazon Prime membership. That's a $12.99/month value.
$40/month: Includes unlimited talk, text, and 10GB of high-speed data with unlimited music. Save $10 on each additional line.
$50/month: Includes unlimited talk, text, and unlimited of high-speed data with 5GB of mobile hotspot, along with 100GB of Google One storage. Save $20 on each additional line.
$60/month: Includes unlimited talk, text, and unlimited of high-speed data with 15GB of mobile hotspot, along with 100GB of Google One storage and a free Amazon Prive subscription. Save $30 on each additional line.
View Details on Metro by T-Mobile
Cricket Wireless – Affordable Unlimited Plans
Cricket Wireless is a well-known no-contract service provider that's been around for a while. One of the biggest advantages of Cricket's service is covered. Cricket uses AT&T's network, so you'll find more widespread national 4G LTE coverage than plans that use Sprint.
Cricket also has a larger-than-average number of plans to choose from, but its unlimited data plan isn't as competitively priced as MetroPCS or Boost Mobile. But they do offer good group discounts that can save you up to $100 per month with five lines.
All cricket cell phone plans include unlimited talk and text nationwide. Cricket also offers a $5 discount per month with auto-pay (prices below don't reflect discount). Taxes and fees included in pricing.
$30/month: This plan comes with unlimited talk, text, and 2GB of high-speed data
$40/month ($35 with AutoPay): this plan comes with unlimited talk, text, and 5GB of high-speed data
$55/month ($50 with AutoPay): this plan comes with unlimited talk, text, and unlimited high-speed data, along with roaming in Mexico and Canada for calls, texts, and data. Cricket may slow data speeds when the network is congested.
$60/month ($55 with AutoPay): this plan comes with unlimited talk, text, and unlimited high-speed data with 15GB of high-speed mobile hotspot, along with roaming in Mexico and Canada for calls, texts, and data. Cricket may slow data speeds when the network is congested.
View Details on Cricket Wireless
Picking a Cell Phone Carriers: What Else to Look For
The companies we outlined above suit many people, but they aren't for everyone. If you're trying to find cell phone plans that fit your lifestyle, there are a few things to watch out for along the way.
Coverage & Quality
As we've mentioned, the quality of a provider's coverage is the most important factor you should consider as you compare the best cell phone plans. Verizon claims the top spot in terms of performance, ubiquity, and speed. AT&T is a close second, suffering just slightly in rural regions. T-Mobile's download speeds are superb, but the carrier can feel useless once you leave metropolitan areas. Sprint's network is slow and unimpressive but sufficient for most people's needs.
With the exception of US Cellular, which operates a regional network in the Midwest, every other service provider is an MVNO of one of the Big Four carriers, piggybacking off of their networks. The better ones offer service on AT&T's towers, but most operate on Sprint's infrastructure.
There's one last consideration to remember when picking a quality network: the communications standard that's used. Verizon and Sprint use CDMA, a cellular standard common in the U.S. but rarely used internationally. T-Mobile and AT&T, on the other hand, use the international GSM standard. Unless a device is very specifically made with both types of antennas, GSM phones don't work on CDMA networks and vice versa. If you plan on buying an unlocked phone and carting it from carrier to carrier, keep this in mind.
For a long time, the chief difference between the big carriers and the smaller prepaid carriers was contracts: You couldn't buy a new phone from a carrier without committing yourself to two years of service with one company. Now that the Big Four have done away with contracts, cell service is easier to budget, since how much you pay for your connection is separate from how much you pay for your phone.
Of course, many carriers still let you pay for your phone over two years, lumping its price into your monthly bill. But the cost of service by itself is finally easier to understand. It still varies greatly, though; expect to pay anywhere from $30 to $65 per month for service, plus the cost of whichever device you choose to buy.
Beware lest you be drawn in by claims of "unlimited" data; the vast majority of companies that promise it throttle your speeds once you hit a predetermined data cap. Carriers we review here are exceptions to this rule: T-Mobile, Sprint, Cricket Wireless, and Boost Mobile. Far more common is unlimited talk and text, a feature offered by each of the service providers we let into our lineup.
One feature available at only two companies is data rollover: the ability to roll any unused data from your monthly allocation over into the next month. At the moment, T-Mobile and AT&T are the only companies offering any sort of data rollover. T-Mobile's take on it is far more forgiving than AT&T's, but both are welcome additions the companies are granting at no extra charge.
Finding a decent cell phone carriers can seem hard, but it doesn't have to be. Looking for cheap cell phone plans that still give you room to stretch? T-Mobile has you covered. On a tight budget but still, want great service? Check out Cricket Wireless. And of course, there's always Verizon if you're willing to pay top dollar for a top-quality experience.
There are dozens of cell phone companies to choose from, and with fierce competition, you're spoiled for choice. We narrowed down our recommendations to widely available services that offer unlimited data plans, but there are a lot of great options that don't fit these parameters, including Project Fi and Republic Wireless. A few others do fit within our parameters but didn't make the cut, including CREDO Mobile, Page Plus Cellular, Wing Mobile, Ultra Mobile, and Lycamobile.
Tags AT&T, Boost Mobile, Cricket Wireless, Metro By T-Mobile, Simple Mobile, Sprint, T-Mobile, US Mobile, verizon wireless, Xfinity Mobile Post navigation
5 thoughts on "Top Cell Phone Companies Offering the Best Plans"
Cell phone company's? Isn't this a misnomer? These are not cell phone companies. Verizon, Sprint, AT&T and T-Mobile are examples of cell phone companies. The guts above didn't start business by making phones. In fact many of them provide wireless first.
For the billions they've spent to upgrade their wireless networks, cell phone companies are now trumpeting quarter after quarter of strong gains in revenue from services other than phone calls _ from messaging and games to music and video clips, as well as wireless Internet access
I've heard a lot about Cricket and I honestly love it. It's affordable and I don't have a Cricket phone yet because I have to wait about a year with my stupid Verizon phone before I can get a Cricket phone.
If you use your phone for talk and text there are free phones for people who qualify that would cut your bill in half buy leaving just your wife's bill to pay.
Most of the cell phone service providers offer low-cost cell phone plans. Through T-Mobile, Walmart offers a $30 plan that includes unlimited talk and text, and 500MB of high-speed data.
A lot of "virtual carriers" exist that offer inexpensive prepaid plans and pay-as-you-go service. The big four carriers (Verizon, AT&T, Sprint, and T-Mobile) also offer branded prepaid plans. There's also FreedomPop, which offers very basic cell phone service for free.
Find The Best Cell Phone Plans
Best Cell Phone Plans 2020
Cheapest Cell Phone Plans
Best Cell Phone Plans For Seniors
Best Family Cell Phone Plans
Best Unlimited Data Plans
Top Cell Phone Companies
Best Prepaid SIM Card USA
Best Cell Phone Plans For Kids
Best Cell Phone Plans For Students
AARP Cell | 2,461 |
Processed with VSCO with g3<|fim_middle|> a bit loose with a spoon. You then top the desserts with the fruit for decoration.
Children sometimes don't like to eat the seeds, and Monica says she then puts a bit of chocolate chips on it for decoration.
The dessert has to stay in the fridge for at least 2 hours.
While we are cooking, Monica tells me you can also make a nice cocktail with this passion fruit, called Batida de Maracujá.
You can make a bottle of this cocktail and keep it for 3-4 days in the fridge.
To make this cocktail, you will need to make the fruit juice of 2 Maracujá's as in the above recipe (mix and pour it through the sieve). You add 1 can of condensed milk and Rum. Add some ice in the glasses before serving this cocktail. According to Monica this cocktail is often served on the beach in Brazil, and the sweet flavor sometimes makes people forget that there is alcohol in it, so don't forget that 😊. | preset
What's cooking in Brazil?
Passion fruit mousse
When I asked my Brazilian neighbor Monica what was cooking in Brazil, she suggested for us to cook a Passion Fruit Mousse together for dessert!
Monica lives in Switzerland and her ties to Switzerland have always been strong as her father was a Swiss from Interlaken who had moved to Brazil. She has always lived in Rio de Janeiro, until 14 years ago, when she and her husband decided to move to Switzerland. She does miss the Brazilian food and, in the beginning, she had to go to a lot of different shops around the city to find her ingredients, but now, more and more becomes available everywhere and Monica often meets up with some Brazilian friends to cook together.
Passion fruit mousse is an easy to make, yet exotic dessert. Before we made this I actually only knew the dark colored passion fruits, but for this recipe I would need the yellow one, which is also called 'Maracujá'. The Maracuyá fruit grows in Brazil, and can also be found in Colombia, Paraguay and Argentina. It is traditionally used in fruit juices and desserts. If the fruit is still a bit green, it's taste will still be a bit acid, but when it is starting to wrinkle, it will be sweet.
Cooking time: approximately 20 minutes, 2 hours in the fridge
– 3 yellow Passion fruits, 2 to make a fruit juice for the mousse, and 1 for the decoration on top
– 200 gr of sour cream
– small can of condensed milk (the Nestlé one for instance contains 380gr)
– 2 sheets of gelatin
Cut the 2 passion fruits in half and put the inside of the 2 fruits in the mixer
Add approximately 40 ml of water, mix a little bit, but not too much so that the grains won't break up
You then pour your fruit juice through a sieve, into a bowl, to separate the seeds and the juice. You will have to stir in the sieve with a spoon a bit, because sometimes the juice still stays a bit attached to the seeds.
Empty the can of condensed milk in a bowl, and keep the can for measuring quantity later on
Put the sour cream in the bowl with the condensed milk (or directly in your mixer if you have one big enough)
Warm up a small bowl with a bit of water in the microwave, take it out and put the 2 sheets of gelatin in. Only approximately 50ml of water!
Once the gelatin sheets are completely absorbed in the water, you pour it to a height of approximately two fingers into the empty condensed milk can. You then add the fruit juice to fill up the can and stir a bit.
Empty this in your bowl, or mixer, with the sour cream and the condensed milk and mix it.
You can then pour this into your dessert bowls.
Open up one more passion fruit and scrape the inside | 614 |
After understanding the exponential function, our next target is the natural logarithm.
Given how the natural log is described in math books, there's little "natural" about it: it's defined as the inverse of $e^x$, a strange enough exponent already.
But there's a fresh, intuitive explanation: The natural log gives you the time needed to reach a certain level of growth.
Suppose you have an investment in gummy bears (who doesn't?) with an interest rate of 100% per year, growing continuously. If you want 10x growth, assuming continuous compounding, you'd wait only $\ln(10)$ or 2.302 years. Don't see why it only takes a few years to get 10x growth? Don't see why the pattern is not 1, 2, 4, 8? Read more about e.
Not too bad, right? While the mathematicians scramble to give you the long, technical explanation, let's dive into the intuitive one.
The number e is about continuous growth. As we saw last time, $e^x$ lets us merge rate and time: 3 years at 100% growth is the same as 1 year at 300% growth, when continuously compounded.
For example: after 3 time periods I have $e^3$ = 20.08 times the amount of "stuff".
$e^x$ is a scaling factor, showing us how much growth we'd get after $x$ units of time.
The natural log is the inverse of $e$, a fancy term for opposite. Speaking of fancy, the Latin name is logarithmus naturali, giving the abbreviation ln.
Now what does this inverse or opposite stuff mean?
$e^x$ lets us plug in time and get growth.
$\ln(x)$ lets us plug in growth and get the time it would take.
$e^3$ is 20.08. After 3 units of time, we end up with 20.08 times what we started with.
$\ln(20.08)$ is about 3. If we want growth of 20.08, we'd wait 3 units of time (again, assuming a 100% continuous growth rate).
With me? The natural log gives us the time needed to hit our desired growth.
You've studied logs before, and they were strange beasts. How'd they turn multiplication into addition? Division into subtraction? Let's see.
What is $\ln(1)$? Intuitively, the question is: How long do I wait to get 1x my current amount?
Zero. Zip. Nada. You're already at 1x your current amount! It doesn't take any time to grow from 1 to 1.
Ok, how about a fractional value? How long to get 1/2 my current amount? Assuming you are growing continuously at 100%, we know that $\ln(2)$ is the amount of time to double. If we reverse it (i.e., take the negative time) we'd have half of our current value.
Makes sense, right? If we go backwards .693 units (negative seconds, let's say) we'd have half our current amount. In general, you can flip the fraction and take the negative: $\ln(1/3) = – \ln(3) = -1.09$. This means if we go back 1.09 units of time, we'd have a third of what we have now.
Ok, how about the natural log of a negative number? How much time does it take to "grow" your bacteria colony from 1 to -3?
It's impossible! You can't have a "negative" amount of bacteria, can you? At most (er… least) you can have zero, but there's no way to have a negative amount of the little critters. Negative bacteria just doesn't make sense.
Undefined just means "there is no amount of time you can wait" to get a negative amount.
How long does it take to grow 9x your current amount? Sure, we could just use ln(9). But that's too easy, let's be different.
Interesting. Any growth number, like 20, can be considered 2x growth followed by 10x growth. Or 4x growth followed by 5x growth. Or 3x growth followed by 6.666x growth. See the pattern?
The log of a times b = log(a) + log(b). This relationship makes sense when you think in terms of time to grow.
If we want to grow 30x, we can wait $\ln(30)$ all at once, or simply wait $\ln(3)$, to triple, then wait $\ln(10)$, to grow 10x again. The net effect is the same, so the net time should be the same too (and it is).
How about division? $\ln(5/3)$ means: How long does it take to grow 5 times and then take 1/3 of that?
I hope the strange math of logarithms is starting to make sense: multiplication of growth becomes addition of time, division of growth becomes subtraction of time. Don't memorize the rules, understand them.
It's no problem. The "time" we get back from $\ln()$ is actually a combination of rate and time, the "x" from our $e^x$ equation. We just assume 100% to make it simple, but we can use other numbers.
We can modify "rate" and "time", as long as rate * time = 3.4. For example, suppose we want 30<|fim_middle|> 100%.
Ok, what if our interest isn't 100% What if it's 5% or 10%?
So, if we only had 10% growth, it'd take .693 / .10 or 6.93 years to double.
time to double = 69.3/rate, where rate is assumed to be in percent.
Now the time to double at 5% growth is 69.3/5 or 13.86 years. However, 69.3 isn't the most divisible number. Let's pick a close neighbor, 72, which can be divided by 2, 3, 4, 6, 8 and many more numbers.
which is the rule of 72! Easy breezy.
Which is another useful rule of thumb. The Rule of 72 is useful for interest rates, population growth, bacteria cultures, and anything that grows exponentially.
I hope the natural log makes more sense — it tells you the time needed for any amount of exponential growth. I consider it "natural" because e is the universal rate of growth, so ln could be considered the "universal" way to figure out how long things take to grow.
When you see $\ln(x)$, just think "the amount of time to grow to x". In the next article we'll bring e and ln together, and the sweet aroma of math will fill the air.
The intuitive human: ln(e) is the amount of time it takes to get "e" units of growth (about 2.718). But e is the amount of growth after 1 unit of time, so $\ln(e) = 1$. | x growth — how long do we wait assuming 5% return?
Intuitively, I think "$\ln(30) = 3.4$, so at 100% growth it will take 3.4 years. If I double the rate of growth, I halve the time needed."
Cool, eh? The natural log can be used with any interest rate or time as long as their product is the same. You can wiggle the variables all you want.
The Rule of 72 is a mental math shortcut to estimate the time needed to double your money. We're going to derive it (yay!) and even better, we're going to understand it intuitively.
How long does it take to double your money at 100% interest, compounded every year?
Uh oh. We've been using natural log for continuous rates, but now you're asking for yearly interest? Won't this mess up our formula? Yes, it will, but at reasonable interest rates like 5%, 6% or even 15%, there isn't much difference between yearly compounded and fully continuous interest. So the rough formula works, uh, roughly and we'll pretend we're getting fully continuous interest.
Now the question is easy: How long to double at 100% interest? ln(2) = .693. It takes .693 units of time (years, in this case) to double your money with continuous compounding with a rate of | 307 |
Fantastic job keeping the party alive making it a memorable experience for everyone! They sold themselves on personality and experience and 100% delivered. I would definitely recommend to anybody who wants the job done right.
Thank you to Tammy and Pete for taking our wedding reception to the next level. Everyone had a blast dancing and making requests. Their up-lighting also added a nice touch to the evening. Very happy that we chose Music on Wheels for our wedding DJ and highly<|fim_middle|> Function Hall throughout your reception to ensure every detail is taken care of. | recommend them for all your music needs!
Pete and Tammy Rivet are a dedicated professional, high energy, husband and wife team that offer a complete personalized guide through your reception or party. Receptions are detailed to your needs starting from the formal introduction right through to your last dance. Music in Wheels will help to make your reception a true success. With over 15 years of crowd pleasing satisfaction we feel that your reception is the second most important part of your wedding day. We offer a free wedding reception consultation and also work closely with your Photographer / Videographer and | 115 |
Sunshine Biopharma Announces the Acquisition of Nora Pharma, Adding $10.7 Million in Revenue
[October 20, 2022]
MONTREAL, Oct. 20, 2022 (GLOBE NEWSWIRE) -- Sunshine Biopharma Inc. (NASDAQ: "SBFM"), a pharmaceutical company focused on the research, development and commercialization of oncology and antiviral drugs, today announced that it has completed the acquisition of all the outstanding shares of Nora Pharma Inc., effective immediately. As such, Nora Pharma Inc. is now a wholly owned subsidiary of Sunshine Biopharma Inc.
Nora Pharma is one of North America's fastest growing generic pharmaceuticals companies. The addition of Nora Pharma allows Sunshine Biopharma to expand its operations into the area of generic prescription drugs and biosimilars. The purchase price of $30,000,000 Canadian (approximately $21,900,000 US) was paid by cash, Sunshine Biopharma common stock, and an earn-out amount.
"The strategic acquisition of Nora Pharma significantly expands our revenue stream and is expected to generate multi-year top-line and bottom-line growth going forward," said Dr. Steve Slilaty, CEO of Sunshine Biopharma. Dr. Slilaty continued, "This acquisition gives Sunshine a solid position in the generic prescription drugs industry and brings us closer to our objective of becoming a fully-integrated pharma company."
Malek Chamoun, founder and president of Nora Pharma said, "Sunshine brings additional expertise and financial resources which will help Nora with its accelerated growth plan and leadership in the supply of high quality, affordable medicines to the Canadian market."
Based in the Greater Montreal area, Nora Pharma has 36 employees and operates in a 15,000 square foot facility certified by Health Canada. Nora Pharma currently offers over 50 pharmaceutical products, including generic prescription drugs, over-the-counter products and biosimilars. Nora Pharma and its service arm that commercializes under the name Lea Solutions will continue to operate without changes going forward.
Dr. Slilaty added, "Nora Pharma will operate as a subsidiary of Sunshine Biopharma, with Mr. Chamoun as president. We are happy to have the Nora employees join the Sunshine Biopharma family."
About Nora Pharma Inc.
Nora Pharma is a Canadian pharmaceutical company offering generic and specialty drugs across the country. Nora Pharma is positione as a partner of choice in optimizing the service offering to pharmacy partners and providing patients with access to affordable<|fim_middle|>. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC). Actual results and the timing of certain events could differ materially from those projected in or contemplated by the forward-looking statements due to a number of factors detailed from time to time in the Company's filings with the SEC. Reference is hereby made to cautionary statements and risk factors set forth in the Company's most recent SEC filings.
Nora Pharma Contact:
Marc Beaudoin
Sunshine Biopharma Contact:
Camille Sebaaly, CFO
Sunshine Biopharma Media Contact:
Christine Petraglia
TraDigital IR | , high quality pharmaceutical products. For more information, please visit www.norapharma.ca/en/
About Sunshine Biopharma Inc.
In addition to working with the University of Arizona on the development of a treatment for COVID-19, Sunshine Biopharma is engaged in the development Adva-27a, a unique anticancer compound. Tests conducted to date have demonstrated the effectiveness of Adva-27a at destroying Multidrug Resistant Cancer Cells, including Pancreatic Cancer cells, Small-Cell Lung Cancer cells, Breast Cancer cells, and Uterine Sarcoma cells. Clinical trials for Pancreatic Cancer indication are planned to be conducted at McGill University's Jewish General Hospital in Montreal, Canada. Sunshine Biopharma is also engaged in the development of a novel anticancer mRNA called K1.1. The data collected to date have shown that K1.1 mRNA is capable of destroying cancer cells in vitro including multidrug resistant breast cancer cells (MCF-7/MDR), ovarian adenocarcinoma cells (OVCAR-3), and pancreatic cancer cells (SUIT-2). Studies using non-transformed (normal) human cells (HMEC) have shown that K1.1 mRNA had little or no cytotoxic effects. K1.1 mRNA is readily adaptable for delivery into patients using the proven mRNA vaccine technology. For more information, please visit www. https://sunshinebiopharma.com
Safe Harbor Forward-Looking Statements
This press release contains forward-looking statements which are based on current expectations, forecasts, and assumptions of Sunshine Biopharma, Inc. (the "Company") that involve risks as well as uncertainties that could cause actual outcomes and results to differ materially from those anticipated or expected. These statements appear in a number of places in this release and include all statements that are not statements of historical fact regarding the intent, belief or current expectations of the Company, including statements related to the Company's drug development activities, financial performance, and future growth. These risks and uncertainties are further described in filings and reports by the Company with the U.S | 428 |
I hope you all had<|fim_middle|> sandals, sling backs and trainers are not appropriate for school. Trainers can be worn for PE. | an enjoyable and restful Easter.
We would like to welcome Lavinia and Tabitha Daubney and their family to the school. They have joined Classes 4 and 6.
We are delighted to announce that Miss Sabin has had a new baby boy who was born in the Easter holidays. The whole family are doing well. His name is Henry.
A huge thank you to everyone who supported the 3rd Clavering Ramble and helped raise money for the school and preschool. Approximately 200 people turned out in lovely weather for a 2 mile ramble around the Clavering countryside, nicely finished off with a fabulous BBQ and refreshments! Plenty of money raised and a good time had by all.
out of PE until a time that they can be removed. Schools have to comply with this guidance.
Footwear – in the interest of safety, as well as appearance, pupils should wear suitable footwear for school. Shoes should fasten securely and be plain black and low heeled with enclosed toes. Boots, | 210 |
<|fim_middle|> | Century 21's board of directors accepted Simon's resignation late last week, according to company spokeswoman Charlotte Kullen. Simon had been with the company for just over two years, she said, adding that his departure and Lewis' promotion were announced within the firm last week. Simon was not available for comment.
She said Simon, who oversaw the 2006 merger of Dwelling Quest and Century 21 Kevin B. Brown that resulted in the creation of Century 21 NY Metro, will be "pursing other opportunities," but added that she wasn't sure if they would be in real estate or not.
Lewis gave Simon his first job out of college at L.D. Gardner Realty, an Upper East Side brokerage firm. Some 20 years later, when Simon was president and CEO of Century 21 NY Metro, he returned the favor by making Lewis COO.
Lewis said he remains on good terms with Simon but did not comment further on his departure. For the foreseeable future at least, Lewis will serve as both COO and CEO.
Lewis first entered the industry as a rental agent with L.D. Gardner Realty in 1973. In 1988, he founded his own firm, Marc Lewis Realty, which provided sales, rental, building site and building sales brokerage services. In 2002, he merged Marc Lewis Realty with Manhattan Apartments, then joined Century 21 NY Metro in 2007 as COO.
The company is planning to hire new agents, he said, and is currently in the process of looking to move from its current 10,000 square feet of space at 575 Madison Avenue to about 15,000 square feet in the same neighborhood. | 363 |
Carnac and Diallo were invited to explore these questions as they first begun working together in 2012. This led to an extended research project where the artists have considered process and making. This workshop is an invitation to participants to join them in their ongoing enquiry, drawing on ideas and processes developed in the making of their new work Edge and Shore.
Working together, in groups and individually, participants will have the opportunity to explore some of the material Carnac and Diallo use when working together – movement and paper amongst others. The workshop will take place both in the Ladies Baths and main gallery space at Dovecot, where Edge and Shore will be shown.
Working in the gallery space for a period of time will enable those taking part to make tangible connections with the work displayed and to explore questions that have underpinned much of the artist's research about the role of the onlooker, the changes in our doing that occur when we are being watched, the edges or parameters of performance and making and the ways in which an audience apprehends a moment of live making.
This workshop is<|fim_middle|> interested in exploring materiality and making and to those interested in areas of research concerned with movement and making. | aimed at artists from any medium | 6 |
As one of the leading agencies in the Trump administration's campaign to improve customer service, the Veterans Affairs Department sees potential in using artificial intelligence to get a handle on the hundreds of thousands of calls it receives daily from veterans seeking care.
Rosetta Lue, the senior contact center adviser at VA's Office of Information and Technology, called 2018 the "year of execution" for many of the customer experience priorities the agency has lined up.
Lue, speaking Tuesday at the Digital Government Institute's 930Gov conference in Washington, said VA has made human-centered design, or trying to solve problems based on feedback from users, the centerpiece of their customer service transformation.
"What we're finding is, we're rolling out the technology. We're rolling out the employee engagement programs, but we're doing things not the way that fits us, but really the way that they're telling that they want those problems to be solved," Lue said.
VA Secretary Robert Wilkie, in an address to the American Legion's 100th National Convention in Minneapolis on Wednesday, said he considers customer service his "prime directive" at the agency.
The Office of Management and Budget, under the President's Management Agenda (PMA), lists VA as one of the lead agencies tasked with<|fim_middle|> 1,800 call centers, which handle about 140 million calls a year.
A key challenge, Lue said, is keeping up with the volume of calls from veterans who want to speak with a call center operator, and not an automated message.
While automation tools may help call center employees reach veterans more effectively, Lue said the VA still faces some workforce challenges. | overhauling customer service.
In order to make sense of all the data that's coming through VA's call centers and websites, Lue said the agency has looked at using artificial intelligence tools to handle more routine tasks.
"How do we take that data and begin to maybe automate a lot of the things we're doing so we can better give an experience to the veterans and their families," Lue said.
But in order to get the most use out of those AI tools, the VA needs to collect and store data in a more consistent, standardized fashion — basic cyber hygiene techniques that Federal Chief Information Officer Suzette Kent has stressed as a requirement to getting the PMA off the ground.
The VA runs more than | 142 |
Granada Hills ist eine Wohngegend in Los Angeles und liegt im San Fernando Valley. 2008 betrug die Einwohnerzahl 54.000 Personen. Das Areal umfasst ca. 25 Quadratkilometer und liegt auf einer Höhe von 292 m.
Geschichte
Die Gemeinde begann als Milchbetrieb und Obstplantage unter dem Namen Sunshine Ranch. Hier wurden vor allem Aprikosen, Orangen, Walnüsse und Bohnen gezüchtet. 1916 wurde hier die erste Ölquelle des San Fernando Valley gebohrt. Die Quelle befand sich an der Nordspitze der Zelzah Avenue. Granada Hills wurde 1926<|fim_middle|> Weiterhin gibt es zwei Stadtteilräte in Granada Hills. Das Viertel gehört zum Zuständigkeitsbereich der Polizeidienststelle Devonshire des Los Angeles Police Department.
Schulwesen
Das Viertel hat vierzehn öffentliche und sieben Privatschulen.
John F. Kennedy High School
North Valley Charter Academy
Granada Hills Charter High School
Valley Academy of Arts and Sciences
George K. Porter Middle School
Robert Frost Middle School
Patrick Henry Middle School
El Oro Way Elementary Charter School
Knollwood Elementary School
Danube Avenue Elementary School
Jane Addams Continuation School
Tulsa Street Elementary School
Haskell Elementary School
Van Gogh Street Elementary School
Granada Elementary Community Charter School
Rinaldi Adult Center (Schule für Erwachsene)
Weblinks
Einzelnachweise
Stadtteil (Los Angeles) | als Granada gegründet, 15 Jahre später wurde es in Granada Hills umbenannt.
Architektur, Infrastruktur und Politik
Das Granada Hills Recreation Center (auch als Petit Park bekannt) bietet ein Auditorium, Baseballplätze, Basketballplätze, Spielplätze für Kinder, eine Turnhalle, Tennisplätze, Klassenzimmer, ein Tanzzimmer und eine Bibliothek an. In North Hills befindet sich die Filiale der Los Angeles Public Library für Granada Hills.
In Granada Hills findet man hauptsächlich moderne Architektur aus der Mitte des 20. Jahrhunderts. Bemerkenswert ist der Bauabschnitt Balboa Highlands, gebaut vom Unternehmer Joseph Eichler. O'Melveny Park ist der zweitgrößte Park von Los Angeles. Mission Point und sein Umland sind beliebt bei Mountainbikern und Wanderern. Die Spitze des Mission Point ist auch gleichzeitig der höchste Punkt von Granada Hills.
Granada Hills ist Teil des Los Angeles City Council District 12 und wird von Mitchell Englander als Stadtratsmitglied vertreten. | 251 |
Voice Customers Give Cable a Mulligan
Voice Customers Give Cable a Mulligan While justifiably proud of its high marks in the recent J.D. Power and Associates Customer Service Rankings for Local and Long Distance Telephone Service, the cable industry should probably understand that its been given a mulligan – for nongolfers, that's a do-over – when it comes to customer service. At least that's the gist of what customers were saying – compared to what cable<|fim_middle|> inched up over time. If you start at the bottom, the only direction is up," he said, noting that cable – despite its army of story spinning naysayers – had pretty much lived in the customer satisfaction basement with video. "We just never envisioned satisfaction getting worse." Two primary factors came into play in the voice rankings. First, cable was competing against telephone companies that have, over 100 years, defined the term "arrogant" when dealing with voice customers; in other words, cable was coming in with a smile where a frown had been the norm. Second and most importantly, Kirkeby said, "Cable companies are being seen as providing a bloc of products and services that customers want, that they like. With this bundling phenomenon, cable companies make it simple … at a better price. It's raising all boats." It's not the voice technology that leads directly to customer satisfaction – although without good quality equipment the rest would be just conjecture – it's a combination of factors. Bundle up "In terms of cable companies and satisfaction, there are two things," said Kirkeby. "No. 1 is bundling, the fact that they're offering the triple play, and No. 2 that they're offering it at a competitive price." People bundle services for "convenience, price and simplicity or a single bill. At the end of the day it's a value proposition," he said. The better the value, the more satisfaction. Even in this silver lining, there's a dark cloud for cable. Video is sliding down the list of what customers perceive to be part of the bundle's value, and that may be because telephone companies aren't yet offering video. "It's voice, data and video in that order in terms of what customers are looking at," said Kirkeby. "This year we saw data move up as a No. 2 because it's a more aggressively promoted second product. It actually beats out video as the second most commonly seen product in the pecking order." Wireless ho hum As for the quadruple play, "customers like to see wireless as part of the bundle, but it's really a lot lower incidence than you'd expect," said Kirkeby. Video might be dropping because phone companies really aren't in the entertainment business yet, despite their partnerships with DISH Network and DirecTV and their talk of rolling out digital TV. "We see the local telephone company as historically the No. 1 option. Folks see that as their most logical bundling partner," Kirkeby said, pointing to a "rock steady" statistic that 35 percent of respondents said the phone company was most likely to provide the ideal bundle while 26 percent – up from 19 a year ago – favored cable. Pulling no punches, it's easier for cable to compete in the voice arena because the industry enters without baggage. People have had years of dealing with the phone companies, and they're ready for something newer, cheaper and more feature-loaded. Conversely, cable's continuing video satisfaction slump may lead to similar statistics if the telcos ever get their act together and move seriously into the video arena. "It's a wild and woolly race out there," said Kirkeby. – Jim Barthold | used to get when it came to video service. Also evident in the report: Technology is nice, but other factors are more important to consumers in the long run. Cox Communications got the highest voice service customer satisfaction rankings in the Northeast, Southwest and West regions; Bright House Networks topped the Southeast; and Time Warner Cable was boss of the North Central. Verizon Communications was the only traditional phone company to crack the list by getting the top ranking in the Mid-Atlantic Region where there was "a pretty tight battle," said Steve Kirkeby, executive director-telecommunications and technology research at J.D. Power who said Verizon was "over the top of AT&T, Cox and Comcast and Sprint." Comcast, apparently still getting its voice legs, was shut out in its own headquarters backyard, being "about average overall in terms of where they place. I would put them in a solid average," Kirkeby said. Helping cable's image High customer satisfaction ratings for voice are helping the cable industry's image overall after years of customer dissatisfaction with the way it handles its bread-and-butter video entertainment business, Kirkeby said. "The satisfaction with video service has slowly | 233 |
Bridging Bionics Foundation
Indego Exoskeleton Capital Campaign Success
Accountability & Disclosure
Able Bionics USA
Blog – Bridging Bionics Foundation Perspectives
Blog – Ambassador Perspectives
Clancy Joe Herbst
Mitchell Brogan
Jennifer Sue Montoya
Rusty Crossland
Glenda Greenwald
Sam Philben
"Possessions possess. Money only increases the number<|fim_middle|>. (See our Email Privacy Policy for details.) Emails are serviced by Constant Contact. Email addresses will not be shared outside of Bridging Bionics Foundation.
Bridging Bionics Foundation is an IRS designated 501(c)(3) nonprofit, Charitable Organization Number 46-2182977. BBF is incorporated in the state of Colorado, CO Solicitation Registration No. 20133019121, registered March 4, 2013.
Copyright © 2015 Bridging Bionics Foundation • Privacy Policy • Site by Patrick Iverson | of your options."
Clarence "Clancy" Joe Herbst is known to be kind, generous and forward-thinking. He embraces innovative concepts and new technologies. He is a 1950 Graduate of CU-Boulder with a Chemical Engineering Degree and went on to pursue a successful manufacturing career. His business background includes Resinoid Engineering Corp., an auto motive parts company started by his father in Skokie, Illinois. The company has a second facility in Newark, Ohio. Clancy also owns a business in London, as well as several real estate holdings. Clancy, now 89, formerly served as volunteer chair of the CU Foundation's Board of Directors and was chair of the enormously successful Campaign for Colorado: Frontier 2000 at CU, which exceeded it's $200 million goal by $71.7 million. Over the years, Clancy and his wife, Linda, have given several million to all four CU campuses and the University as a whole including giving to CU educational, academic enrichment and sports programs, developmental disability programs, and scholarships for wounded veterans.
"I've been a success," Clancy explains. "Many people disagree with this idea, but I believe that when you reach a certain age and you've been successful, it's a downhill slide. In businees you're not respected as much, you become obsolete – and then the body starts to wear out. Where most people fail in their 60's, 70's and 80s is by not taking opportunities to do a good job in the latter phases of life, and it's sad. I live my life the way I've run my business. First, quality. Then, world-class manufacturing. Third, enjoy the journey."
Clancy Herbst's numerous CU honors include a 1995 honorary doctorate degree, a 1991 Universtiy of Colorado medal, and a 1995 Ira C. Rothgerber Award for volunteer service.
Clancy has a primary interest and focus in helping his grandson recover from a recent spinal cord injury. His grandson shattered his T12 and L1 vertebrae in a skiing accident on March 4th, 2017, and participates in the Bridging Bionics Foundation's neuro-rehabilitation program three times per week to optimize his neurorecovery.
By submitting this form, you are granting: Bridging Bionics Foundation, PO Box 3766, Basalt, Colorado, 81621, United States, https://www.bridgingbionics.org permission to email you. You may unsubscribe via the link found at the bottom of every email | 551 |
On This Day: Northern Ireland comes into existence in 1921
Queen Elizabeth and leading British politicians have shared statements marking the 100th anniversary of Northern Ireland.
IrishCentral Staff
The Government of Ireland Act came into effect just after midnight on May 3, 1921. Getty Images
On May 3,<|fim_middle|> commitment to marking the Centenary in an inclusive way👇 pic.twitter.com/Tn9WbQmcbK
— Northern Ireland Office (@NIOgov) May 3, 2021
In March, the British government announced a series of events to mark the centenary of Northern Ireland.
Why is the Irish border where it is?
Related: Irish Politics, Northern Ireland, United Kingdom | 1921, six counties on the island of Ireland became the legal entity known now as Northern Ireland.
The Government of Ireland Act 1920, whose long title was "An Act to provide for the better government of Ireland," received its royal assent in December 1920 and came into effect just after midnight on May 3, 1921.
Also known as the Fourth Home Rule Bill, the Act established six counties on the north of the island of Ireland - Antrim, Armagh, Derry, Down, Fermanagh, and Tyrone - as the legal entity of Northern Ireland, a part of the United Kingdom.
The remaining provisions of the Act were repealed under the Good Friday Agreement in 1998.
The partition of Ireland, 100 years on
In a statement published on May 2 to mark the centenary of Northern Ireland, Queen Elizabeth addressed the people of Northern Ireland and extended her "warmest good wishes."
She wrote: "In Northern Ireland today, there is, perhaps more than ever, a rich mix of identities, backgrounds, and aspirations, and an outward-looking and optimistic mindset.
"The political progress in Northern Ireland and the peace process is rightly credited to a generation of leaders who had the vision and courage to put reconciliation before division. But above all, the continued peace is a credit to its people, upon whose shoulders the future rests.
"It is clear that reconciliation, equality, and mutual understanding cannot be taken for granted, and will require sustained fortitude and commitment. During my many visits to Northern Ireland, I have seen these qualities in abundance, and look forward to seeing them again on future occasions.
"I also wish to recognise the important contribution made by our friends and closest neighbours towards the success of Northern Ireland. I look back with fondness on the visit Prince Philip and I paid to Ireland, ten years ago this month. I treasure my many memories, and the spirit of goodwill I saw at first hand.
"Across generations, the people of Northern Ireland are choosing to build an inclusive, prosperous, and hopeful society, strengthened by the gains of the peace process. May this be our guiding thread in the coming years."
The Queen has sent a message to the people of Northern Ireland on the centenary of the Government of Ireland Act coming into effect. pic.twitter.com/vMRmcxcR9K
— The Royal Family (@RoyalFamily) May 3, 2021
A look at the partition of Ireland and its aftermath nearly a century on
In his statement, UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson said that the centenary is "an important opportunity to come together to celebrate Northern Ireland and build towards a better and even brighter future for all of its people."
My message on Northern Ireland's centenary year. pic.twitter.com/x5giX4bMwT
— Boris Johnson (@BorisJohnson) May 3, 2021
Brandon Lewis, the Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, said: "A hundred years on, and Northern Ireland's Story is still in the making."
WATCH: On the 100th anniversary of the Government of Ireland Act coming into effect, Secretary of State @brandonlewis says there is 'much to be proud of in modern day Northern Ireland' and reiterates the @NIOgov | 681 |
The article posited that an improving economy will drive demand for hydrocarbons and an energy industry hiring binge coming off several years of downturn that featured scads of layoffs, early retirements, and buyouts. Presently, data does suggest that the layoffs have peaked and are tapering off. The folks at Raymond James added that they believe adding 100 to 200 rigs to the current U.S. rig count (at 440 as of 8 July) operating in the U.S. will be "manageable" but could create staffing difficulties as the working rig count approaches 600.
Just to put this in perspective and if memory serves, barely two years ago the working rig count in the U.S. was about 1900. Anyone that's been around the patch for a while has lived through the industry cycle. The process of balancing supply with demand is pretty messy in the oil and gas business. There are booms where hiring accelerates to meet demand growth and when supply balances or a recession comes along the inevitable "cut to the bone" layoffs generally follow. The service companies and equipment suppliers often bear the worst of downturns, but everyone feels the pain.
There are a lot of different opinions on what happens next, but there does appear to be an emerging consensus of at least moderate growth after a couple of very hard years. If the next boom is just around the corner, then the oil and gas industry will begin hiring. It won't be easy to assimilate up to 100,000 new workers. But, one might say, "<|fim_middle|>, function, and effectiveness of your business processes and we can design enhancements to not only correct deficiencies but also improve the effectiveness of your operations. We have identified millions upon millions of dollars in benefits associated with business process upgrades. These benefits materialize through better technical outcomes and cost effectiveness.
We can do the same for you and your company. Just drop a note to info@certitudegroup.com and we will set up a time to discuss you situation in detail. | they were all working in the industry before and now they are just coming back". That may be the case for many, however "they" will more than likely be new to role, new to company, and new to geography. In addition, time has passed and there will certainly be a learning curve for all involved at this point. All of the above present serious challenges to operations.
Just about everything that happens in an oil & gas company requires multiple competencies and the work usually occurs within cross functional business processes. This is often viewed as being in conflict with solving problems or restoring production outages. Often the default becomes: "Get 'er done".
In operations, many people work remotely from the center and there is often little time for on-the-job mentoring and coaching. Individuals can feel conflicted as to whether to let the process work or just fix the problem.
The oil & gas industry thrives because of an overwhelming "can do" spirit; while this is a tremendous strength it also can create problems when individuals are working within business processes. As the crusty driller used to yell at his roustabouts, "Pull your fingers outta you're a**, we're trippin' out and back in before we go home today!" And yes, that pipe string was about 8,200 feet if memory serves. And no, we never did a roundtrip from that depth in one tour.
To maintain consistency in performance, oil & gas businesses utilize cross functional processes. These processes exist because any other approach utilizing technical disciplines would be far more costly. Utilization of cross functional processes fosters "technical excellence" at a brisk pace compared to more traditional functional organizations. The other advantage of cross function processes is that a number of people contribute to problem resolution through different points of view and experiences. The downside is that it is more difficult for individuals to just go and fix something.
Whenever we see a business with a large number of people moving in or out, we also see a threat to process integrity. So, if you are making a hiring move in the near future now is a great time to do an assessment of the fit and function of your business processes. Times, conditions, and the business environment can change and so should your processes. Certitude Group can assist with an assessment of the current fit | 467 |
Description I have found that no wire has been created using the GeoMaps Intersection option. I believe it is because the curves are deiniert as Spline.
The attached aWire.brep is based on b-spline curves of degree 1.
Yes you are right but algorithm has general problems as soon as it contains Spline (see new attached wire.brep).
The offset algorithm with the option GeomAbs_Intersection has a limitation that it works only with analytical geometries. If there is a join of b-spline or bezier curves this case does not work by<|fim_middle|> created as continuation of joined curves, and intersection point of these tangent lines will be used as a join point on offset contour.
However, in the current implementation GeomAbs_Tangent join type is not considered and the algorithm will fail. So, this problem is open and needs to be solved.
We have no plans to schedule this task in the nearest future, unless it is paid by some third party. | intention. It is because during making intersection join we need to extent the curve till the point of intersection. And though b-spline can be extended, nevertheless we cannot rely on such extension in general case as it can give unexpected oscillations.
There should be another solution for this problem. There is GeomAbs_Tangent join type. With this join type, it is intended that a tangent lines a | 80 |
A GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY
This expansive manor house in New Canaan, Connecticut, is more than a luxurious family home—it also offers a private, separately deeded coach house and a buildable lot.
78 Pastures Lane, New Canaan, Connecticut
PHOTOGRAPHY BY: ALAN BARRY PHOTOGRAPHY
New Canaan in southwestern Connecticut is perhaps best known as the home of Philip Johnson's iconic Glass House, built-in 1949. Today, the pastoral 49-acre site is one of the country's most important landmarks for modern architecture and art, with 14 structures dotted throughout the landscape—but it's not the only impressive architectural site in the area. New Canaan is part of Connecticut's privileged "Gold Coast," which is known for the number of expensive waterfront properties perched along its shore as well as its proximity to New York City. While luxurious estates are commonplace in this exclusive area, it's rare to find one that offers the opportunities of 78 Pastures Lane.
The estate sits on expansive grounds in a quiet cul-de-sac formerly known as The Pastures, which is just five minutes from the village and the train to New York. Designed in the first half of the 20th century by acclaimed New York City architect Calvin Kiessling, the architect behind the nearby New Canaan Playhouse, the impressive manor is constructed from stone walls and features a handsome slate roof.
The sprawling eight-acre property comprises three subdivided parcels, which are being offered together for the first time, creating an unmissable opportunity. A separately deeded original coach house—with two bedrooms and a private outdoor terrace—is located nearby the main house, without compromising privacy. At the same time, the third plot is a 2.25-acre buildable lot.
The 8,500-square-foot primary residence features four en-suite bedrooms, with an additional large bedroom suite over the 2.5-car garage attached by a porte-cochere. The master bedroom is a particular highlight, with soaring double-height ceilings, a fireplace, and a large loft office.
The spacious living areas feature charming random-width hardwood flooring, rebuilt counterweight windows, and original timber moldings and millwork throughout. The boundaries between interior and exterior dissolve through the numerous French doors, which lead to five patios and a screened porch. There's also a banquet-sized formal dining room and a large gourmet kitchen that set the scene for generous entertaining. Family meals at home are equally celebrated, with a sun-filled breakfast room and eat-in kitchen.
Outside in the landscaped grounds, the seamless blend of family amenity and space for entertaining continues. Nestled amidst flowering trees and perennials, there's a sustainable synthetic turf tennis court, a basketball half-court, and a large in-ground heated pool.
The grounds seemingly flow into the adjoining 46-acre Silvermine Fowler Preserve and Kelly Upland Sanctuary, which are protected by New Canaan Land Trust. In this natural wonderland, you'll find family-friendly hiking trails weaving through tranquil woodlands and a picturesque freshwater pond.
For savvy and discerning purchasers looking for a luxurious family home and grounds in one of Connecticut's most prestigious neighborhoods, with the added benefit of the potential income-generating coach-house and buildable lot, 78 Pastures Lane is an unmissable opportunity
78 Pastures Lane, New Canaan, Connecticut, is listed at $<|fim_middle|>The Higgins Group
Richard Higgins
E: richhiggins6@gmail.com
Susan Leone
E: susan@susanleone.com
www.thepasturesnewcanaan.com
www.higginsgroup.com | 5,995,000.
For more information, or to schedule a private showing, please contact:
| 24 |
A year ago today, I was wrapping up a trip to Munich that started and concluded in London. It was the second trip overseas by myself, or as I like to refer to it: flying solo.
I have to admit that I'm split 50/50 when it comes to my level of enjoyment when traveling by myself or with other people. I've found there are benefits and drawbacks to both.
A short while ago, I read an article that gave seven keys to traveling alone. It was a pretty insightful article, although a little too spiritual for my tastes.
Since I like to strike a balance between my practical side and my adventurous side, I decided to add a few more "keys to traveling alone" based on personal experience.
#1 Learn a Few Phrases if Traveling to a Country that Doesn't Speak Your Language.
Getting around by yourself can be a little frightening especially if you aren't with someone who is fluent in the language spoken in the country you are visiting.
It's important to learn a few phrases before you go even if it's "please", "thank you", or "pardon me, my (insert language here) isn't too good, can you help me?". Don't be afraid of "toddler-speak"; it will help you get your point across.
For example, when I visited The Hague in September, I tried my hand at a few Dutch phrases and<|fim_middle|> Please share in the comments section.
This entry was posted in Experience, Uncategorized and tagged London, Munich, Solo travel on January 4, 2014 by bdennisreid. | was met with surprise. I would apologize for not knowing much of the language, but I was commended for trying. Ask how to say or pronounce something. You'll be surprised at what you'll start recognizing.
Chances are, you'll also feel a bit more confident that you've attempted something new.
As a solo traveler, you will find yourself alone at a market, restaurant, bar, or somewhere else where people congregate. Don't be afraid to ask for tips on fun things to do and see that may be "off the guidebook grid", so to speak. Obviously, safety is key and should never be discounted.
I struck up a conversation with someone who lived in The Hague and was introduced to Jenever and the best broodjes anyone could ever experience. Was I little weirded out eating a cow's udder? Sure. However, it was something new to experience and travel is all about experience.
#3 Research and Plan, but Be Flexible.
I'm notorious for booking a trip to a certain destination months ahead only to tweak my itinerary a little to accommodate my desire to see and do something else. As a solo traveler, you have the flexibility to do so.
My experience has taught me that you can enter and depart in one country, and experience other destinations in between by train and plane. Likewise, if you're in the states, you can usually fly to a certain destination and drive, hop on a train, or take a short flight to see something else not too far away.
For example, my trip this time last year originally involved flying into and out of London with a train ride to Edinburgh, Scotland for a few days. I scratched the trip to Edinburgh not because I didn't want to go; rather, I wanted to visit Munich because I had heard so much about it and learned that Salzburg was a short train ride away. Therefore, I weighed my refundable train cost to Edinburgh versus my flight to Munich and it was about the same.
How do you remain flexible? Many Websites such as Orbitz and Booking.com have deals that allow for hotel cancellations up to a specific date before your arrival. You will need to review the restrictions when you book, but if you book a refundable stay, chances are, you'll be able to make a change if you need to according to the hotel's policies. However, it's important to note that changing flights can be tricky, and many airlines impose a hefty fee to change in addition to the fare difference. Weigh your options if you want to remain flexible.
Renting an apartment for your stay? Be sure you speak with the owner and confirm his or her refund guidelines. I've often found that a downpayment for a reservation is not refundable.
#4 Save, Spend Wisely, and Just Take It In.
You may be traveling to a place where your currency is crap, to put it bluntly. Furthermore, traveling alone can be costly because you aren't splitting expenses. Check out apartment rentals if you have identified a specific place to stay and don't think you'll make changes.
Travel is all about experience, right? Budget for your trip ahead of time, but plan for unexpected expenses. If you live by yourself, you're probably already used to doing this.
Chances are, you can go a whole day just seeing and exploring for free and only spend a little money on inexpensive meals and snacks you've thrown in your bag.
Do you have positive and negative experiences to share regarding "flying solo"? | 711 |
"National governments must take the lead and do so with a recognition that they are part of a global effort." Speaking last week at the Munk School of Global Affairs in Toronto, OECD Secretary-General Angel Gurría urged countries not to retreat behind their national borders in dealing with climate change. A purely inward-looking approach to climate change is clearly inadequate as we see signs that short-term national self-interest is increasingly seeping into the global debate on climate action. This is especially a risk as a number of countries continue to try and escape from low growth traps. Effective climate action needs ambition and action at both national and global levels.
We are now in the middle of the UN COP23 climate conference in Bonn which aims for "Further, Faster Ambition Together". Two years after the historic Paris Climate<|fim_middle|>. Climate action needs to accelerate around the world. Without the vision, ambition and resolve demonstrated by countries such as Canada, more countries may pull up their national drawbridges, which would do nothing for climate change and, on the contrary, jeopardise human, fiscal, financial and environmental security. We have no choice but to work together towards the far more positive future of a sustainable, prosperous and inclusive world that still lies within our grasp.
To read the OECD Secretary-General's lecture on Climate Action, see: http://www.oecd.org/environment/munk-school-climate-action-time-for-implementation-canada-2017.htm.
For more information on the report Investing in Climate, Investing in Growth, see: http://www.oecd.org/environment/cc/g20-climate.
For more information on OECD climate change work see: http://www.oecd.org/environment/action-on-climate-change. | Agreement at COP21, there are encouraging signs of progress, but there is a huge amount left to do. We have known for some time that the commitments to Nationally Determined Contributions (NDCs) beyond 2020 made under the Paris Agreement would be insufficient in limiting temperature increase to below 2 degrees Celsius, and that more ambition and action would be needed. The Paris Agreement gives us an international legal instrument that measures up to the scale and urgency of the climate challenge, with mechanisms that can increase the ambition of action over time. The negotiators in Bonn are looking to refine and clarify the "rulebook" on how to achieve this.
Each country must do its part by implementing their existing climate change plans using the range of policy levers available to address climate change. But the politics of activating them are daunting right now as they compete with the pull of some countries to retreat behind national borders. And yet, strong climate action should not be seen as a threat to growth. Rather it is the foundation for our future economic well-being and prosperity. This point is backed by a growing body of evidence, as the OECD's 2017 report, Investing in Climate, Investing in Growth clearly shows. Thinking of climate policy as an integral part of the policy landscape, alongside fiscal policy and structural reforms, is the only way forward.
A number of countries are leading the way and showing it can be done. Take Canada as a prime example. It is a major OECD country with its fair share of challenges in overcoming carbon entanglement and remedying the problems of limited progress during the last decade of climate policy. But Prime Minister Trudeau's election in October 2015 and his progressive climate agenda has led to a political sea-change that underpinned the success of COP21. In a recent interview with the Financial Times, Environment Minister Catherine McKenna demonstrated not only Canada's strong commitment to tackling climate change, but also a keen awareness of the transitional challenges that Canada faces.
The OECD will be launching its Environmental Performance Review of Canada in a few weeks' time. The Review highlights the progress that Canada has made on its climate agenda. At the top is the carbon pricing mechanisms that four provinces have already implemented, as well as the new Pan-Canadian Framework on Clean Growth and Climate Change, which includes a proposal for country-wide carbon pricing by 2018.
There is no cause for complacency | 491 |
Toi Te Ora Public Health is advising Bay of Plenty and Lakes districts there is no change to meningococcal vaccination recommendations, in light of the outbreak of (type W) in Northland.
The Ministry of Health has begun rolling out a targeted vaccination programme in Northland for children aged 9 months to 4 years and those aged 13 to 19 years.
However, in the Bay of Plenty and Lakes areas the most recent case of meningococcal disease was in September.
Toi Te Ora medical officer of health Dr Jim<|fim_middle|> than Northland had not been recommended.
Toi Te Ora Public Health is monitoring the situation closely and following up all cases of meningococcal disease in the region.
It said the outbreak in Northland was a timely reminder for members of the public to be aware of meningococcal disease and its signs and symptoms.
A likely norovirus outbreak ha affected 11 people at Whangarei Hospital and seen strict infection control measures put in place on a ward. | Miller said this week there wasn't an outbreak in the Bay of Plenty or Lakes District Health Board areas.
He said a vaccination programme for children and youth in the Bay of Plenty and Lakes, or elsewhere in New Zealand other | 44 |
WHO : Joyner Avenue Designs // Lewisburg, WV.
WHY : They wanted a fresh way to connect with their customers.
HOW : I conceptualized the copy to speak to the modern professional woman: classy, busy, with a dash of wanderlust.
How does she sail through her days?
<|fim_middle|> copy: "Fueling jet-setters, one sip at a time"
WHY : They wanted to encourage school parents to buy their healthy snack boxes.
HOW : I developed copy to leverage two primary decision making factors for the Montessori parents: they were both time-starved and health conscious. | She believes in lucky stars.
She keeps the wind at her back.
a lady must always be prepared.
Introducing our waxed canvas Cross Body bags. Keep your indispensables at your fingertips.
WHY : They wanted to distinguish their bottled cold brew in the sea of specialty coffee products.
HOW : After capitalizing on the world coffee map concept, we identified their customers as trend-setting go-getters.
Additional tagline for web | 86 |
The<|fim_middle|> mums. The water will be accented by dark blue and white iris. Potatoes, green grapes and seaweed will also be used on parts of the float.
Additional information about Princess Cruises is available through a professional travel agent, by calling 1-800-PRINCESS (1-800-774-6237), or by visiting the company's website at http://www.princess.com. | original cast of "The Love Boat" gathered to decorate Princess Cruises' Rose Parade float today, as well as participate in a myriad of national and local media interviews which celebrated the reunion of this beloved cast.
Princess Cruises, one of the most famous names in cruise vacations, is widely known for its starring role in one of television's most iconic shows, "The Love Boat." Their float in the Rose Parade launches Princess' 50th anniversary year and pays tribute to the light-hearted TV show which played such an integral role in the cruise line's early history.
The original cast of "The Love Boat" will ride on the float, which comes on the heels of this ensemble christening Princess' newest cruise ship Regal Princess to kick off the company's golden anniversary year.
Named "50 Years of Inspiring Travel," the float depicts Regal Princess symbolically sailing through the world's most fascinating cruise destinations and iconic landmarks that guests have experienced with Princess over the past 50 years. Viewers will recognize the Sydney Opera House, the leaning tower of Pisa, the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, a traditional Japanese pagoda, the Golden Gate Bridge and the tropical flowers and water falls of the Caribbean, Hawaii and Mexico, as well as the majestic mountains and wildlife as featured on Alaska cruises – just some of the sights travelers will see when sailing with Princess, whose ships visit 350 destinations around the globe.
The float is 60 feet long and 24 feet high with more than 24,000 flowers and natural materials. Flowers include roses, orchids and carnations, dendrobs, tulips, cymbidiums, delphiniums, and gerbera daisies. Regal Princess will be covered in large white navy beans, white mums and button | 375 |
American Audio is one of the brands under which the American DJ group of companies sells professional audio and DJ equipment and lighting. Although American DJ has been a key player in the club DJ and lighting market for many years, it has never made inroads into the selective vinyl-turntablist market; in this market niche, only a few key brands dominate. With the release of the HTD 4.5 turntable, American Audio steps up with a full-featured, high-torque turntable that will compete with the likes of Technics, Vestax, Numark and Stanton for the turntablist's dollar.
As a die-hard Technics 1200MK2 jock, I always approach a new turntable with eager anticipation and some trepidation. I have tried many different turntables, and although many of them incorporate new and tempting features, I always return to my tried-and-true Technics 1200s, primarily for their build quality and reliability.
After using the American Audio HTD 4.5s for a number of weeks, I am impressed by its structure and features, and I feel confident that it would stand up to regular abuse on the road. The base is made of a dense rubber that is excellent at absorbing unwanted vibrations. The top is made of a high-quality metal with a nifty metallic-enamel black finish that almost sparkles. At 29 pounds, it is a solid beast, which bodes well for its robustness during transportation and repeated setup. Surprisingly, for a new scratch-DJ turntable, the HTD 4.5 features a traditional S-shape tonearm; almost every other turntable in this market now comes with a straight tonearm, which is the newest fad in the turntablist world.
The HTD 4.5's cable hookups are located in a recessed channel at the back of the turntable. They are hard to access, but once hooked up, the cables are neatly tucked out of the way. As is common with most new turntable models, the RCA and ground cables are no longer hard-wired into the turntable. Instead, the unit has a pair of external RCA connectors and a ground connector to which you can attach the included audio cable. The cable is of high quality and neatly integrates the ground wire into the RCA cable. That one less cable to lose or damage is a testament to American Audio's attention to detail: Anyone who frequently transports a pair of Technics knows how easy it is to cut the skinny ground cable while closing the lid of a turntable flight case.
The HTD 4.5 gets its name from the 4.5 kg/cm of rotational torque that its direct-drive motor boasts. This is three times that of the Technics 1200 and the highest torque I have seen on any DJ turntable. The result is a superfast pickup time. If you hold the platter still with your hand, you can feel the strength of the motor pulling. The HTD 4.5 features separate Brake and Start control knobs that let you change the pickup and braking speed of the platter. At its fastest setting, the Start control causes the turntable to start almost instantly. Set it to the slowest setting, and it takes a full one-and-a-half platter rotations to get up to speed.
The Brake control probably has the greatest value, as you can create varied skidlike sound effects by stopping the platter while it plays a sound. At its highest setting, the platter stops immediately; no wind-down sound is even heard. This setting is almost too abrupt, so I backed it off a little because I like<|fim_middle|>, it makes it easier to grab the pitch fader during scratches that involve a great deal of pitch manipulation.
The pitch control has three range settings: ±10, ±20 and ±50 percent. The fader resolution seems very precise, and having this range of pitch control is definitely a bonus for DJs who are familiar with the traditional ±8 percent of other turntables. One problem that plagues other turntables is a lag in the pitch control's responsiveness, in which changing the pitch setting results in a slight delay before the turntable responds. That is quite frustrating for turntablists and severely limits their ability to perform advanced pitch-fader scratches. Thankfully, this is not the case with the HTD 4.5, which has a quick response during pitch adjustments, probably due to the high-torque motor.
To engage the 50 percent setting, you have to press both the 10 and 20 percent buttons simultaneously. I understand that manufacturing and real estate constraints can limit the number of buttons placed on a turntable, but it would be nice if there were a separate button for the 50 percent setting. Quick adjustments while scratching are considerably harder when you have to press two buttons instead of one.
The HTD 4.5 also features 33, 45 and 78 rpm settings. Similar to the pitch-range setting, the 78 rpm setting is engaged by pressing both the 33 and 45 rpm buttons simultaneously. This is less of a concern, as 78 rpm is an infrequently used setting. I do appreciate its inclusion, though, as more options can only lead to more creativity.
To test the turntable's responsiveness, I performed the following extreme test on the high-torque motor: I played a locked tone set to 33 rpm and -50 percent pitch (the slowest the turntable will spin). I then simultaneously pressed the Quartz Lock button and the 33 and 45 rpm buttons, with the goal being to instantly change the turntable to 78 rpm with a 0 percent pitch adjust. The turntable spun up to speed within roughly an eighth of a turn! Disengaging the Quartz Lock and pressing just the 33 rpm button (thus setting it back to 33 rpm, -50 percent) resulted in a speed adjustment again within an eighth of a turn. This is impressive and further attests to the motor's strength and the turntable's build quality.
All of the buttons are a nice size and easy enough for anyone to press. The buttons are coated in a dense rubber that feels slip-resistant when compared with a regular metal button. The turntable also includes a removable light that plugs into a single RCA-jack-style connector and is quite bright. The HTD 4.5 also features a Reverse button that allows the turntable to play in reverse with the same range of controls. The speed with which it changes direction is also impressive, a result that I also attribute to the extra torque of the direct-drive motor.
My main complaint with the HTD 4.5's controls is with the Start and Brake knobs: They are small dials that are recessed a little into the top of the turntable. The designers may have envisioned that they would be adjusted once to match the DJs preference, as opposed to being adjusted on the fly during a scratch performance. Manufacturers who know the turntablist market should know that scratch DJs are continually pushing their equipment to the limit and will want on-the-fly control of every setting.
The metal S-shape tonearm is similar to that of other high-quality turntables. It features the traditional height and antiskate adjusts. It appears to be well-made with little "play" in the moving parts, which is important for scratch DJs, as cheap or loose tonearm components are a big cause of skipping.
I performed some rigorous scratches while testing this turntable and found that it had excellent skip resistance — it even felt superior to my dialed-in Technics 1200s! This is somewhat of a subjective judgment, however, as the biggest causes of skipping with high-quality turntables are cartridge and needle choice and the settings that the DJ controls (tracking weight, tonearm height, cartridge/headshell position and antiskate), as well as how light a hand you have when scratching. Simply put, I had no problems with skipping. I was also impressed with the platter's sturdiness. Even when thumping my hand on it fairly heavily, the needle tracked well. Excessive vibration in this area is another common cause of skipping.
While researching this turntable, I made a curious discovery: Stanton, one of the key players in the turntablist market, has recently announced its new ST-150 (and the STR8-150, the straight-arm version). In looking at product shots of the ST-150, I noted that it looked identical to the HTD 4.5. A little more investigation uncovered that they are indeed the same turntable (other than the color and the manufacturer's label). In all likelihood, all of these turntables were designed by a third-party audio manufacturer and are licensed by both Stanton and American Audio.
Nevertheless, this turntable impresses me greatly overall, and I urge any DJ who is looking for a new turntable to consider the American Audio HTD 4.5 as a viable option, especially if you are looking for a turntable with more advanced features than the standard Technics 1200MK2. At the very least, be sure to demo it at your local DJ-equipment store to see how it performs for you. The toughest hurdle for American Audio may be penetrating the acceptance of the vinyl-turntablist market.
Pros: Awesome high-torque motor, pitch-range settings, build quality.
Cons: Small Start and Brake controls. | the little skid sound. When set to its slowest setting, the platter consistently stops one-and-a-half rotations after the button is pressed. The braking mechanism is electronically controlled, and the platter almost pushes itself the full one-and-a-half rotations even if you try to stop it sooner. This takes a little getting used to.
To test the HTD 4.5's real-world pickup and brake times, I played a locked tone from a battle-break album and experimented with various settings. With the startup time at its quickest, the platter was up to full speed in roughly a 16th to an eighth of a turn — impressive when compared with the full turn that my Technics 1200s require. Braking was equally impressive: It essentially stopped on a dime, within a 16th of a turn or less when set to the quickest setting. Adjustments such as these give you greater control of your DJ performances because you can tweak the settings to better meet your needs. They are a great feature of the HTD 4.5!
The HTD 4.5 also features two Stop/Start buttons: one in the traditional position and one in the top-left corner. This is becoming a standard on many turntables because battle-style DJs invariably rotate the turntable 90 degrees counterclockwise to move the tonearm away from their hands. With this additional button, a Start/Stop button now resides nearest the crossfader whether the turntable is on the left- or right-hand side of the mixer.
The pitch fader feels a bit cheaper than those on some other high-end turntables. Both the pitch fader and the platter sit completely above the turntable surface, unlike those of the Technics (which has the pitch fader and platter located in slightly recessed areas). Although this is unusual visually | 381 |
Blogs & Interviews
Brand Ambassador FAQ
From brooklyn to jersey with demigod blza
Author: Anjelica Morales
"I was born in Brooklyn, New York and was raised in South Jersey during my childhood. My father was a huge fan of music which influenced me to get into Rap and later writing my own. I became drawn to<|fim_middle|> the lyrics. My music is different from the rest because you get so many different genres and vibes while listening to my craft. You get everything from conscious rap to slow jams to just vibing or even something to turn up to and of course something for the ladies. My music is meant to connect with my listeners." She describes her personal style as "an experience. I try to capture imagery, passion and connection in my songs almost like storytelling." Demigod's well thought out vision for her craft is what will no doubt set her ahead of the pack.
"This time next year, I will have released 2 new projects that I am currently working on. I am preparing for performance opportunities with different event projects here on the east coast. As well as, working on releasing the music videos to previous work I have released. I have amazing ideas for my work and I hope to attract as many audiences that'll motivate me to keep pursuing my dream in the industry."
"So far there are so many things that I have improved on but I know that I still have a long way to go. I have improved my flow, songwriting, and style. However, I am excited and motivated to improve on everything. Especially with technique, performing, and networking with potential collaborations."
Follow Demigod BLZA below and listen to her music!
Subscribe To Clonefluence'S UPDATES!
FAQ
Our policy consists of absolutely NO refunds, once you pay you can opt out of our services, but we don't deliver refunds.
© 2017-2020 Clonefluence Inc. - All Rights Reserved. Terms of Service. | Hip-Hop, Soul, Contemporary R&B and other genres because music in general was my home growing up. Around 8, I became big on Hip-Hop when one of my favorite rappers Lil Wayne's music was at its peak. When I was younger, I would look at the lyrics from different freestyle Rap forums and created my own versions of them and would Rap them at the school lunch table in front of my peers. I would even use rap to present class projects and assignments as my way of being creative. From there the vision and my dream only got bigger. Some of the artist that inspired me growing up and currently include: WuTang, Big L, Jay Z, Big Pun, Nas, Lil Wayne, Michael Jackson, Luther Vandross, Biggie, Stevie Wonder, Jaden Smith, J. Cole, Kendrick Lamar, Joey Bada$$, Jean Grae, Tribe Called Quest and Lil Kim." It's obvious that Demigod has a strong musical foundation which only shows in her music.
It's important to have a vision and goal for your music Demigod describes her music as "an experience. I try to capture imagery, passion, and connection. The message I want to convey in my music is that you can be different from everyone else and still succeed. I was trying to teach people valuable things and information and expand peoples knowledge who are willing to listen. I have messages in most of my songs if you listen and pay attention to | 299 |
Wanda Refinish is a complete<|fim_middle|>, repair kits, replacement cups and other accessories. | , compact car refinish system offering excellent color match, a wide range of up-to-date color formulations, comprehensive color documentation and color retrieval program. Durable, simple-to-use and require fewer components to complete the job. Great value without sacrificing quality, that's why Wanda is the Smart Look and Smart Choice.
Metalux Premium Automotive Refinish utilizes state-of-the-art polyester resin technology, Metalux paint provides an accurate match for thousands of colors. Formulated with the highest-quality range of lightfast pigments to meet OEM color standards. Metalux product range features a full complement of hardeners, primers, specialized toners, clearcoats, solvents and accessories.
Metacryl is a high performance, premium multi-use coatings line for the commercial fleet refinishing, industrial and OEM markets. The Metacryl line of products includes primers, clearcoats, single-coat colors and basecoats, including metallic and pearlescent effects. Metacryl paint provides a superior gloss and excellent color, as well as superior adhesion and corrosion protection.
TITAN professional tools can be counted on to provide a professional grade tool at a fair price. They are designed and built to provide a lifetime of quality for the professional and non-professional alike. We carry Titan HVLP paint guns, repair kits, replacement cups and other accessories.
Devilbiss make both high end HVLP guns for professional custom car painters and entry level guns to provide the weekend home user consistant results they can be proud of. We carry Devilbiss paint guns, repair kits, replacement cups and other accessories.
Finex Air Spray Guns are lightweight and ergonomic. Affordable pressure and gravilty feed guns for touch up jobs or large jobs. We carry Finex paint guns | 358 |
Throughout history the arts have been a representation of a collective movement of thought and philosophy, a window into the past which gives voice to the current collective societal movements. To study art is to study the movement of time as the arts share<|fim_middle|> help students seek out new perspectives and grow their dreams through innovative teaching methods, interdisciplinary education, and exposure to new perspectives. I teach independent thinking and education in the arts because without art, the world would be less creative, thoughtful, insightful, and enjoyable. | a direct link with history, literature, science, and math. As an educator of the arts, I seek to spark curiosity regarding all aspects of art in each student. I have found that curiosity generates life long learning surpassing the classroom and degree program, generating truly thoughtful artists.
In our current society, I believe in the importance of teaching technology based programs, peer mentorship and active learning. A technologically enhanced curriculum allows students to be at the top of the job market upon graduation, to have knowledge of digital audio and imaging technology and musical notation programs. By incorporating peer mentorship an openly communicative environment is created. Students develop communication skills, demonstrate aptitude, and feel empowered. For me, as an educator, it gives me direct response as to concepts that are solid within the course and ideas which need further explanation. Similarly active learning such as eurhythmics and dance allow students to leave their seats and experience art, better reaching all three learning disciplines auditory, visual and kinesthetic.
A strong element in musical success is the flexibility to perform and communicate in any location. By creating a unique artistic voice, one finds the universal voice which surpasses cultural and country boundaries. I strive to expose students to different musical dialects, dialogues, genres and perspectives through cultural, social, and economic diversity; a pedagogical means to foster the cultivation and the growth of a personal artistic voice.
The arts are a timeless expression and a limitless communication. Individuals who choose a career in the arts are the noble voice of the masses, demonstrating cultural and emotional shifts in society. As an educator of the arts, my intent is to | 327 |
I had intermittent problems switching between correction filter modes on the RCS. Selecting a particular correction from the remote or the keypad on the front panel sometimes muted the output and sometimes made a clearly spurious correction. There were also times, when switching among inputs, when the RCS failed to access the new input. In both situations, switching to Bypass and/or to another input and back successfully recovered the desired function.
What did it sound like?
Objectively, as measured by the ETF and the Sencore analyzers, the RCS accomplished three things. First, it eliminated the jagged response irregularities below 200Hz that result from the dimensions of the room and the placement of the speakers and other large objects. Second, it corrected, across the audible spectrum, the amplitude imbalances between the channels that are created by the asymmetric distribution of absorbing and reflecting materials in the room. Both of these problems had been predicted by CARA and<|fim_middle|>, and LP surface noise disassociated itself from the music. It was like getting a cartridge's VTA set perfectly! | , therefore, had already been minimized as best I could without precipitating a divorce. Third, the RCS adjusted the arrival times of the direct radiation from the two speakers to be precisely equal at the listening position.
Subjectively, the result was my perception of vastly improved resolution of detail across the spectrum. Initially, I thought the bass seemed a bit less full. It was, but, with continued listening, it became apparent that a pervasive bloom associated with the listening room's low-frequency resonances had been removed. Consequently, the bass was exposed with greater definition and impact.
Tracks 7 and 8 of The Chieftains' The Long Black Veil (RCA 62702-2) feature Ry Cooder on electric guitar and "floor slide" (!). With TacT correction, the bass shook my room, yet was defined and entirely devoid of boom. Even Telarc's signature bass-drum sound was improved. Compared with the familiar full whomp of bass, the corrected sound on the "Cossack Dance" from Tchaikovsky's Mazeppa (Erich Kunzel/Cincinnati Pops, Telarc CD-80541) hit me like a sledgehammer hurled from the back of the orchestra.
The RCS also made the placement of bass instruments in depth and width much more precise. I had been particularly impressed by Dean Peer's electric bass and Ty Burhoe's percussion on I think...It's All Good (Turtle 599008), which Avalon Acoustics used to demonstrate their big speakers in a big room at CES. I found it unexceptional on my system until I used the RCS, when, finally, I heard what had blown me away at the Show: tight and powerful sounds occupying a really huge space. It's gotta be the room! (Yeah, the components were okay, too.)
With the masking influence of the listening room eliminated, the soundstage was strikingly more wide and deep, but instruments were still stably placed and seemed tonally more true. In fact, the bigger the music and the recording venue, the greater the improvement wrought by the RCS. Glen Cortese's recording of Mahler's Symphony 6 (Manhattan School of Music Orchestra, Titanic Ti-257) was recorded at a live performance in the Riverside Church—as big and reverberant as any indoor site for classical music. Engineer Jerry Bruck captured a superb balance of orchestral detail, impact, and ambience, but unless you wipe away the blotting acoustics of your listening room, you won't appreciate it. Instead of hall sound, the RCS let me hear this hall's sound, and transmitted the instruments—as well as a lot of extramusical goings-on—with uncanny immediacy.
Voices, speaking or singing, were also devastatingly improved. From Odetta and the Cowboy Junkies' Margo Timmins to Leonard Cohen and Johnny Cash, every voice was notably more intimate and direct, and more characteristic of the singer. In the duet from Bizet's Le Pêcheurs de Perles, I heard Jerry Hadley and Thomas Hampson move about and turn their heads as they sang. Small choruses were easily heard to be what they are: groups of individuals. The CD layer of Tom Jung's wonderful recording Sacred Feast (Halley, Gaudeamus, DMP SACD-09) sounded more detailed through the TacT than did the two-channel SACD layer without processing.
The latter has more resolution on paper, but the TacT-processed 16/44.1 layer delivered more information to my ears, which made me think that a room-corrected SACD signal in two or more channels would be marvelous. And even though I have concerns about the absolute transparency of the TacT's A/D performance, those were more than outweighed by the advantages of room correction: Voices snapped into focus | 806 |
About Coach JDH
Daily Dose of Coach
Coach Jeff Higuera
Jeff Higuera
Daily Dose of Coach #371: The Passion Paradox
"The man who chases two rabbits catches neither." Confucius
You need enthusiasm to accomplish.
But passion seems to be more of a hindrance than an asset for most people.
Passion gives you big dreams. It says, "I will become the best _______."
Passion can lead to a lot of talk and aimless work to look busy.
We convince ourselves that just because we have a grand vision and we sprinkle activity here and there, we're not wasting time.
But, years can be lost on passion, endlessly chasing flashes of inspiration.
It seems real to us. Our hearts tell us, it's the right thing to do<|fim_middle|>a Street, Longwood, FL, 32750, United States | . But when reality sets in, these passions lead to a dead-end filled with excuses for why it didn't work out.
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, the NBA's leading scorer, played for the legendary coach John Wooden at UCLA. Together they won three National Championships. Wooden won ten in twelve years as head coach, seven of them were in a row.
You would think that Wooden was a very passionate individual, able to inspire his players to go out an beat their competition.
But Jabbar, who was Lewis Alcindor in college, described his coach in one word, "dispassionate."
Wooden did not rely on fiery speeches and emotion. He saw all those extra emotions as unnecessary interference to the task at hand.
Instead, Wooden based his philosophy on his pyramid of success where self-control, doing your job and not becoming a slave to passion were the keys to winning.
Dispassionate is not the same is apathetic.
Though we hear only about the passion of successful people, it's their failures and the processes that they have stuck to for years and even decades that made them great.
.Passion needs purpose and boundaries. It requires a realistic perspective.
Success always leaves clues. This goes from everything from national championships, to earning a college scholarship, to weight loss, to making money.
Forget chasing your emotions and blind passions.
Following a purposeful plan, doing what we have to do every day for as long as it takes, sprinkling in a little luck, and keeping our emotions at bay is how great gets done.
Newer PostDaily Dose of Coach #372: The Nutritional Heirarchy of Importance
Older PostDaily Dose of Coach #370: Mistrust Your Critics
Coach JDH, 225 Pined | 365 |
Prosper Soars Past Lake Dallas, Focuses on Rematch with Wakeland
By cedarbrookmediagroup
In Eagle HYPE, Uncategorized
Leave a Comment on Prosper Soars Past Lake Dallas, Focuses on Rematch with Wakeland
The Prosper Eagles overpowered Lake Dallas 49-7 on Friday night in the battle for the District 14-5A Championship, finishing the season 8-2 overall and 6-1 in district.
The Eagle passing game was right on target. Keegan Shoemaker completed 15 of 19 attempts and three touchdowns in the<|fim_middle|>6 points per game to Wakeland's 26.8 points per game.
Frisco quarterback Dylan Cadawallader has 39 touchdown passes, tied for the second most in any classification in the area. Adams has 22 rushing touchdowns, which has him tied for the third most in the area.
The Bi-District playoff matchup will begin tonight at 7:00 p.m. at Allen Eagle Stadium.
Renee Marler | CedarbrookMedia
Renee@CedarbrookMedia.com
Eagle HYPE
prosper eagles
prosper football
TRIPLE OVERTIME FOR THE WIN
Maher Maso Guest Speaker for Rotary
Lady Eagles Advance to Volleyball State Championship Game
Previous post: Prosper High School Swim and Dive Takes First and Second in 22-Team Event
Next post: Everything You Need to Know for the Lady Eagles State Tournament | first half, totaling 182 yards. Junior Devin Haskins was on the receiving end of five of Shoemaker's passes for 49 yards, which resulted in two Prosper touchdowns and DJ Love racked up 90 yards (62 receiving, 28 rushing) and a touchdown.
Kaleb Adams and David Alvarez were equally impressive in the running game. Adams finished the night with 17 carries for 154 yards and two touchdowns. Alvarez took over in the second half and added another two Eagle touchdowns.
The win pits Prosper up against Frisco Wakeland (7-3, 3rd in District 13-5A), the same team that eliminated the Eagles in the first round of playoffs last year. Wakeland and Prosper are matched up evenly in points scored per game, but Prosper has only allowed an average of 13. | 178 |
Sea Slugs of the Algarve is<|fim_middle|> a water resistant plastic, which allows us to use it on a boat or at the sea side. | intended to help those who wish to know more about the sea slug species which can be found in the Algarve and provide a means for their identification. Sea Slugs of the Algarve figures and describes 115 species, based on 357 photos. Several determination keys and visual quick reference guides help the divers to identify each species. The book is restricted to species which can be observed in the intertidal zone or through recreational diving, leaving out those which are only known by collecting with more intrusive means such as dredging. The authors have tried to use a simple and accessible language as much as possible whilst retaining scientific accuracy, in an effort to gain the interest and curiosity of all those who love nature and the sea.
Sea Slugs of the Algarve is printed on Priplack, | 165 |
Genetic research confirms that non-Africans are part Neanderthal
Source - http://www.physorg.com/news/2011-07-genetic-non-africans-neanderthal.html
Some of the human X chromosome originates from Neanderthals and is found exclusively in people outside Africa, according to an international team of researchers led by Damian Labuda of the Department of Pediatrics at the University of Montreal and the CHU Sainte-Justine Research Center. The research was published in the July issue of Molecular Biology and Evolution.
"This confirms recent findings suggesting that the two populations interbred," says Dr. Labuda. His team places the timing of such intimate contacts and/or family ties early on, probably at the crossroads of the Middle East.
Neanderthals, whose ancestors left Africa about 400,000 to 800,000 years ago, evolved in what is now mainly France, Spain, Germany and Russia, and are thought to have lived until about 30,000 years ago. Meanwhile, early modern humans left Africa about 80,000 to 50,000 years ago. The question on everyone's mind has always been whether the physically stronger Neanderthals, who possessed the gene for language and may have played the flute, were a separate species or could<|fim_middle|> / Hominids
ANT 203 : Néandertal et Homo Sapiens / Neanderthal and Homo Sapiens
Dr. Labuda and his team almost a decade ago had identified a piece of DNA (called a haplotype) in the human X chromosome that seemed different and whose origins they questioned. When the Neanderthal genome was sequenced in 2010, they quickly compared 6000 chromosomes from all parts of the world to the Neanderthal haplotype. The Neanderthal sequence was present in peoples across all continents, except for sub-Saharan Africa, and including Australia.
"There is little doubt that this haplotype is present because of mating with our ancestors and Neanderthals. This is a very nice result, and further analysis may help determine more details," says Dr. Nick Patterson, of the Broad Institute of MIT and Harvard University, a major researcher in human ancestry who was not involved in this study.
"Dr. Labuda and his colleagues were the first to identify a genetic variation in non-Africans that was likely to have come from an archaic population. This was done entirely without the Neanderthal genome sequence, but in light of the Neanderthal sequence, it is now clear that they were absolutely right!" adds Dr. David Reich, a Harvard Medical School geneticist, one of the principal researchers in the Neanderthal genome project.
So, speculates Dr. Labuda, did these exchanges contribute to our success across the world? "Variability is very important for long-term survival of a species," says Dr. Labuda. "Every addition to the genome can be enriching." An interesting match, indeed. | have interbred with modern humans. The answer is yes, the two lived in close association.
"In addition, because our methods were totally independent of Neanderthal material, we can also conclude that previous results were not influenced by contaminating artifacts," adds Dr. Labuda.
ANT 102 : Evolution de l'Homme / The origins of humankind
ANT 202 : Les Hominidés | 85 |
SuiteCentric Named to Bob Scott's VAR Stars for 2020
SuiteCentric Named to Bob Scott's VAR Stars for 2020Nick Weidmann2021-04-26T15:16:02-08:00
SAN DIEGO – December 22, 2020 – SuiteCentric, an Oracle NetSuite Solution Provider and Commerce Agency Partner member, was selected as a member of the<|fim_middle|> Editor of Accounting Technology from 1997 through 2009. He has covered the traditional tax and accounting profession during the same time and has continued to address that market as executive editor of the Progressive Accountant since 2009.
About PMG360, Inc.
Bob Scott's Insights and the Progressive Accountant are published by PMG360. PMG360 (www.pmg360.com) is a leading online media company that provides business-to-business (B2B) marketers and media planners unparalleled access to a highly qualified and engaged audience through their portfolio of lead generation programs, industry-specific Web sites, email newsletters, Web seminars, live events, podcasts, content/reviews, custom publishing and direct marketing databases focusing on the nonprofit, healthcare and accounting professionals.
Nick Weidmann
Sign up for SuiteCentric updates. | Bob Scott's VAR Stars for 2020, a group of 100 value added resellers (VARs) honored for their accomplishments in the field of mid-market financial software.
"It's an absolute honor to be named a VAR Star for 2020, and this is a testament to the perseverance of our entire team through these challenging times," said Sean Gillespie, chief operations officer at SuiteCentric. "We look forward to continuing the momentum gained in 2020 by bringing on more talented people and maintaining our proven track record of delivering outstanding customer experiences."
Members of the VAR Stars were selected based on factors such as growth, industry leadership and recognition, and innovation. Selection is not based on revenue and those firms chosen represent a wide range of sizes and many different software publishers of accounting software.
"Each year, 100 VAR Stars are picked from the best organizations that market financial software. It is always an honor to recognize those who contribute to the development of our business," Bob Scott said.
For the full list of Bob Scott's VAR Stars, please click here.
About SuiteCentric
SuiteCentric is an Oracle NetSuite Solution Provider, member of the Commerce Agency Program, and winner of NetSuite's Commerce Partner of the Year award in 2020. With decades of combined experience as NetSuite end users and consultants, we are dedicated to delivering scalable, long-term solutions that support customer growth and longevity. As NetSuite resellers, our in-house team of certified NetSuite developers and solution consultants strive to maximize customer business potential and advance solutions that align with business goals.
For more information, please visit www.suitecentric.com.
For questions about NetSuite pricing, please visit www.suitecentric.com/netsuite-pricing.
About Bob Scott
Bob Scott has been informing and entertaining the mid-market financial software community via his email newsletters for 21 years. He has published this information via the ERP Global Insights (formerly Bob Scott's Insights) newsletter and website since 2009. He has covered this market for more than 29 years through print and electronic publications, first as technology editor of Accounting Today and then as the | 447 |
Silberrotor
glass, aluminium, motor
Location not on view.
Inventory number 323
The Van Abbemuseum Collection consists of over 2800 artworks. We publish texts and images on an ongoing basis, but this record is currently in the process of being documented.
If you need specific information on this<|fim_middle|> would like to hear from you.
More artworks by Heinz Mack
More artworks from this period
Literature by or about Heinz Mack
Exhibitions with Heinz Mack | work or artist, remember that the Van Abbemuseum Library is at your disposal, or feel free to write to the library.
'Silberrotor' by the German artist Heinz Mack consists of a shallow wooden tray covered in thin aluminium. In the tray there is a disc which is rotated slowly with an electric motor. The disc is covered with pieces of aluminium of the same sort as the tray. They have been applied in different directions. The tray is covered with a glass plate which has alternating matt and clear narrow vertical bands. When the disc is moving its appearance constantly changes because the light falling on it is reflected in a different way all the time and the stripy glass reinforces the kaleidoscopic effect of the rotating aluminium structure.
The material used to make 'Silberrotor' and the effect of the object reveal an interest in industrial materials and technology, an interest Mack shares with fellow artists Piene and Uecker. Together they formed a group called Zero which was founded in the late 1950s on the basis of a shared aversion to the Expressionist art forms dominating the art world at that time. The Zero artists rejected strong emotion and a personal signature. They looked for links with everyday life by using their impersonal "non-artistic" materials as a starting point for their work. Initially they produced monochrome white paintings in which there was no composition at all, only structure: no subjective arrangement of unequal parts, but an objective arrangement of equal elements.
The Zero artists often suggested movement in their white structural paintings. The way in which light falls played an important role. Later they started to use actual movement in their work, like Mack in his 'Silberrotor'. They were fascinated by immaterial phenomena such as light and movement and considered these to be more important than the tangible object. They to bring together art, technology and natural phenomena with the objective of achieving a sense of timelessness and infinity.
Does this page contain inaccurate information or language that you feel we should improve or change? We | 411 |
Home/News/Study showed that SDSS J222551.65+001637.7AB is a rare binary system
Study showed that SDSS J222551.65+001637.7<|fim_middle|> masses.
The system is estimated to be almost two billion years old and has a minimum orbital period of 3,560 years.
According to the researchers, the two components of the system evolve separately, as they are at a great distance.
Ancient 'ghost footprints' discovered at US Air Force training ground
Ancient temple with evidence of unknown rituals found in Egypt
'Extreme heat belt' will affect 100 million US residents
Doctors found that Indian mummies fell victims of brutal murders | AB is a rare binary system
(ORDO NEWS) — Using the Gemini North telescope, astronomers made spectroscopic observations of a binary system known as SDSS J222551.65+001637.7AB.
The results of the observational campaign show that the system consists of a white dwarf and a brown dwarf companion.
SDSS J222551.65+001637.7AB is a binary system located approximately 711 light years from Earth.
It was first identified in 2006 as a binary system consisting of a hydrogen-rich white dwarf and a less massive stellar or substellar companion.
More recent observations of SDSS J222551.65+001637.7AB showed that the effective temperature of the white dwarf is almost 11,000 K, and that the distance between the two objects does not exceed 350 AU.
Given that very little was known about the white dwarf's companion in this system, a team of astronomers led by Jenny R. French of the University of Leicester observed the binary star using the GNIRS spectrograph at Gemini North.
Spectroscopic observations were carried out in July 2020 as part of the GN-2020A-Q-322 program.
Observations have shown that SDSS J222551.65+001637.7AB includes a white dwarf and a brown dwarf.
The two components of the system are separated from each other by about 207 AU. This makes SDSS J222551.65+001637.7AB the eighth confirmed white dwarf–brown dwarf binary.
According to the study, the white dwarf, designated SDSS J222551.65+001637.7A, has a mass of about 0.66 solar masses and an effective temperature of 10,926 K.
The brown dwarf SDSS J222551.65+001637.7B is spectral type L4 and its mass is estimated to range from 25 to 53 Jupiter | 477 |
Terrance had never been away from home before. Not even for a night - let alone all week. Still, he decided to participate in the South Atlanta Youth Group's weeklong trip to Camp Grace. Both he and his parents were apprehensive, but he's in middle school, and they all decided it was worth a try.
When the group arrived at camp, they joined other campers as well. Terrance, as it turned out, was the only South Atlanta youth assigned a cabin with no one else from South Atlanta. He was super bummed to be in a cabin alone with strangers, and youth leader Michelle Witherspoon thought he might leave.
New friendships. New experiences. New strengths teenagers didn't know they had. These are some of the very important reasons for summer youth programming. At FCS, we're grateful to partner with Remerge, which organizes the South Atlanta Youth Group.
In June, fourteen campers spent a week<|fim_middle|> the most of the daily commute, Witherspoon says leaders pose intentional discussion questions in the van everyday. Youth discussed everything from their views on peaceful protest to an appropriate dating age.
One young lady was a bit intimidated when she first encountered the enormous rock climbing wall. But she worked at it and stayed focused until she reached the top and rang the bell. The look of joy on her face revealed how proud of herself she was.
These are powerful moments in the lives of our youth and the leaders who serve them every Wednesday night during the school year. Summertime activities are invaluable for building community and trust and offering teenagers the opportunity to get outside their regular routine and explore the world. Thank you for your donations this summer that helped to make these trips possible. | at Camp Grace, which focuses on activities and teaching for urban youth. Witherspoon shared how daily small group times to share highlights and lowlights served to deepen existing relationships that have been growing throughout the year. "More time together, more experiences, being able to be there for them whether they felt homesick or had a tummy ache. It was all a gift and helps build trust for our yearlong programming," says Witherspoon. Camp Grace also offered a spiritual component that extended an invitation to Christ, as well as affirmed that those who've made the decision in the past and encouraged them how to go deeper in their faith.
Another week this summer, South Atlanta youth returned for the fourth year to day camp at God's Farm. This year, eighteen youth spent the week fishing, canoeing, swimming, and more. They also participated in drills and exercises led by the West Georgia football team. To make | 184 |
Internet of Things, a concept that is being utilized by most tech companies. Currently devices are able to<|fim_middle|>
Safaricom BLAZE Kenya is more than a tariff
Reasons why anyone who cares should ditch Lightroom for Photoshop
I still don't understand why Kenyan universities have closed | go online and communicate with each other. Samsung is also banking on smart homes. The company launched the AddWash, Internet-connected washing machine that includes a small door to let you add forgotten items like socks, a SleepSense which is a sleep tracker you slip under your mattress to track your rest and SmartThings Home automation Hub and sensors.
A wireless wheelchair was introduced at the CTIA Wireless industry conference by Sweden's Permobil. The wheelchair is connected through an AT&T connection. The wheelchair taps a cellular connection to relay results of diagnostic tests, it passes an alert if it has fallen over and provide family members with the ability to track a loved one.
"It's the simplicity of the problem-solving that is the coolest part of the innovation,"Glenn Lurie, chief executive of AT&T's mobility unit, said in an interview.
The wheelchair is currently a prototype and was brought to the CTIA conference to demonstrate a connected product. The company is planning to start selling them next year.
CNET reports that before the project kicked off, Permobil's primary goal was to research ways the chair could send diagnostic information to a remote office tasked with maintaining and managing a fleet of wheelchairs, which can travel as fast as 7.5 miles per hour and have a range of 16 miles.
"As we got in there, we started to ask what else we could with the chair," said Chris Penrose, senior vice president in charge of Internet of Things at AT&T, in an interview.
The wheelchair has an accelerometer which is mostly used to detect motion in smartphones. The accelerometer is used to notify someone if it falls. They also developed separate dashboards, one for a technician examining the wheelchair's status and another for a clinician looking at the person.
Prominent people like George H.W. Bush and Stephen Hawking are already using Permobil products because they have specific medical needs and instructions on how to specifically sit in the chair.
The wheelchair can also be tracked hence it can be located through the cellular radio. Olof Hedin, chief information officer of Permobil, said users could set up a "geofence," a virtual perimeter that would trigger an alert if the wheelchair crossed past it.
"We're really unlocking the potential to create the coolest wheelchair out there," Penrose said.
Also read:Internet of Things Connected Devices Will Raise To 38.5 Billion In 2020
Smart wheelchair
Technology in Kenya
KRA Targets 20,000 incompliant landlords in Tax amnesty for rental income
"My hobby is to invent stuff," Ahmed said. #IStandWithAhmed
Erick Vateta564 Posts
--- Erick Vateta is a lawyer by training, poet, script and creative writer by talent, a model, and tech enthusiast. He covers International tech trends, data security and cyber attacks.
Google Chrome kills your battery life
Mobile subscriptions in Kenya records an increase of 0.6 million | 602 |
A giant insect gobbles up guppies – and other small animals.
A guppy-munching insect. I'm Bob Hirshon and this is Science Update.
Giants among insects, praying mantises have been observed to gobble up frogs, rodents, and even small birds. Now, researchers report in the Journal of Orthoptera Research that fish can be added to that list. Italian entomologist Roberto Battiston of the Musei del Canal di Brenta has been working with the insects for 20 years.
So I was quite surprised because it is the first time heard about mant<|fim_middle|> night.
They have very sharp mandibles, so they basically cut the fish like a Japanese chef.
Battiston says the insects have large brains and may actually learn to fish through repeated experience. I'm Bob Hirshon for AAAS, the science society. | is feeding on a fish.
He says colleagues in India first alerted him to the unusual behavior via social media. They documented the mantis climbing onto pond vegetation to grab the guppies at | 37 |
Pale Shadow: I could be wrapping, but instead I'm blogging.
I could be wrapping, but instead I'm blogging.
You're going to have to forgive me about my lack of posting this week. The first half of it started off supremely cold and snowy. Which is great for Christmas cheer, but not so great for outfit pics (#bloggerproblems). I'm not sure how some of you brave those icy temperatures, because I could barely leave the house! I spent most of that time wrapped up in this here scarf/shawl while drinking way too much coffee and only slightly panicking about the holiday stress.
The weather finally turned around yesterday though! Of course that's all relative. The high was 31, but compared to the days before it, yesterday felt goddamn tropical. And yes, for those keeping track, 31 is still technically below-freezing. But alas! With just a light coat and a single layer underneath, I embarked on a journey<|fim_middle|> on that front is a couple days from now the days will start getting longer again. Woo!
Oh, oh! AND… James's last final is tomorrow. I have to give a shout-out to that! I feel like he's the last person I know still taking finals, but after tomorrow it will be like I have a boyfriend again. Nice!
Anyway, I think I've rambled on enough here. Hope your week is going swimmingly and that you are not stressing over holiday related things. Deep breaths, comfy clothes, coffee and/or wine. Those are the keys to getting through it!
Hahah this is awesome! And I know how you feel! Before the snow came I was two weeks ahead of my blog and then it snowed so hard I went NO WHERE and did NOTHING (Specially not blog shoots) for two weeks!
I often wonder how bloggers take photos in the snow and the really cold weather. I have trouble in the smallest amount of cold, or the wind, or anything that isn't warm and sunny pretty much. Happy you are getting your boyfriend back and I hope his exams went well. | to finish my much neglected last bit of Christmas shopping. It was pretty successful, I must say… Though I'm still thiiiiiis far away from being done. Soon.
And that brings us to today. Today I decided to get all crafty and you know what? I am not really all that crafty. So I literally spent the whole day working on a couple things that I probably won't actually give away. I get a little absorbed when I craft. I'm constantly trying to will my projects to look Pinterest-worthy and always slightly failing. Before I knew it, the light outside was completely gone. Which is depressing, since as I type this it's still before 5pm. But the good news | 145 |
About Z-Wave Technology
The Z<|fim_middle|> coverage information here.
The Z-Wave PHY and MAC layers are defined by ITU-T Recommendation G.9959.
More detail regarding the frequencies used by Z-Wave can be found in Z-Wave Alliance Recommendation ZAD12837, "Z-Wave transceivers – Specification of Spectrum Related Components"
Designed specifically for control and status apps, supports data rates of up to 100kbps, with AES128 encryption, IPV6, and multi-channel operation
Full interoperability through layer 6 with backwards compatibility to all versions.
Successfully bridged and trialed with OpenADR, SEP 1, SEP 1.1 and other Smart Energy protocols.
Shares the same position in the NIST / SGIP Catalog of Standards as the IEEE 802.11 and 802.15 and 802.16 families
For more in-depth technical materials on Z-Wave, please visit our Developer Section, or consider membership in the Z-Wave Alliance.
Z-Wave Market Facts:
Over 2400 interoperable products available, 100 million Z-Wave products worldwide.
Extensively used in residential systems throughout numerous business spectrums, including ADT, Alarm.com, AT&T, DSC, GE/Interlogics, Honeywell, Lowes, Verizon, Vivint, and other prominent service providers worldwide.
Found in thousands of hotels, cruise ships, and vacation rentals; including 65,000 devices in the flagship Wynn Hotel in Las Vegas, NV.
Actively supported by over 700 manufacturers and service providers throughout the world.
Designed specifically for control, monitoring and status operations; no interference from Wi-Fi or other 2.4GHz wireless technologies in similar band. | -Wave protocol is an interoperable, wireless, RF-based communications technology designed specifically for control, monitoring and status reading applications in residential and light commercial environments. Mature, proven and broadly deployed (with over 100 million products sold worldwide), Z-Wave is by far the world market leader in wireless control, bringing affordable, reliable and easy-to-use 'smart' products to many millions of people in every aspect of daily life.
For a more complete look at Z-Wave technology for non technologists, and to learn more about Z-Wave's role as a key enabling technology for the Internet of Things and connected objects, please visit www.z-wave.com.
Z-Wave Technology Essentials:
Low Powered RF communications technology that supports full mesh networks without the need for a coordinator node
Operates in the sub-1GHz band; impervious to interference from Wi-Fi and other wireless technologies in the 2.4-GHz range (Bluetooth, ZigBee, etc.)
See the frequency | 200 |
Every video should connect with the viewer and inspire them to take a desired action. Easier said than done. So how do you do that?
Earlier this year, we had the privilege to create a series of videos for the National Assessment Governing Board (NAGB)'s Education Summit for Parent Leaders. We thought we'd use this project to talk about a few things worth considering if you're trying to connect with your audience.
First, a little about the project itself: We were asked to create a series of videos that would present an enormous amount of data and statistics to the summit's audience… in an engaging matter. We needed to get the Summit participants excited, informed, motivated, and remind them why they were attending the conference in the first place: to close achievement gaps in children's education.
1. Know who you're addressing.
The Education Summit brought together 150 parent leaders from across the country to provide them with knowledge and skills to help them work with school leaders, with the ultimate goal of improving student achievement in their communities. No small task.
In order to get to know our audience a bit better, we worked with NAGB representatives to uncover important details about their lives. For example, we learned the Summit attendees were aged 25-50 and had school aged-children. They were well-educated and highly motivated to affect change. And they were also likely to be active in their communities.
These were key elements to consider when developing concepts for the video. For example, knowing attendees were actively engaged meant that they'd probably attended conferences before and were used to a certain style of video presentation.
Since they were well-educated and familiar with the subject matter, we knew we didn't need to spend much time bringing them up-to-speed on the basic facts. We could get bold with the presentation.
2. Know what matters to them.
We knew that attendees cared deeply for childhood education, particularly because they most likely had children in the education system. But while they were familiar with the summit's subject matter, they might not have known all of the facts about the importance of closing achievement gaps. We needed to present the material in a way that created a sense of urgency within parents to demand a change.
To do this, we asked the most<|fim_middle|> sense of urgency among parent leaders and encourage them to resolve the issue of achievement gaps. The video needed to do the same.
But when collecting information, it's important to focus on not just the obvious, but the potentially overlooked. We noticed that although the summit was intended to benefit an entire generation of students, everything was presented by parents to parents. The children themselves had no representation. No voice. This realization sparked a ton of ideas.
So we focused on ways to make this video different: How could we stand out from typical conference videos that present information in a dull, dry manner, and how could we really hit home with the attendees?
We focused on a key point that surfaced within our early investigations—the fact that, oftentimes, statistics are released, only to be quickly forgotten. In order to counter this, we decided the material needed to be presented in a memorable way that the audience wouldn't expect but would still easily understand. Luckily, the folks at NAGB encouraged us to explore this path.
At this point, we knew wanted to make a bold statement, give the children a voice, and present information in an easy to understand manner.
But the dilemma remained: How did we present the information itself? These were smart people we were talking to. They would smell insincerity three miles away. These thoughts led to the idea to have the children "create" a video on their own to play at the summit. We would give the children their voice and allow them to present the information.
Rather than regurgitate data, we personalized it. We put faces to the statistics—told the story from the children's perspective to make it more honest and real. After all, those could easily have been attendees' children onscreen. We had the children directly address the camera, as though they were talking directly to the audience.
We even went so far as to film the children in the room where the conference took place, which added that extra connection and level of urgency — as though the kids may have broken into the room the night before the summit to broadcast this message—true childlike defiance. In the end, the kids challenged the adults to take action and reminded them why they were there. Connection complete.
The series is called: "A Message From Our Children." We've embedded one of the videos below.
Did the connection work? We'd love to hear your thoughts! | basic questions: Why was this Summit taking place? What need was it trying to fill? Education achievement gaps need to be closed, but many people don't understand the severity of this issue. Conversations with NAGB representatives confirmed that the summit needed to inspire a | 53 |
It's a crazy world we live it and learning to live in the moment can be a very freeing state of mind. With so many things to do and worry about it's easy to get stressed out and anxious. Understanding that "now" is all you really have can bring you a sense of peace. Here are some ideas on how to ease your anxiety and keep your mind in the moment.
1. Cultivate a sense of gratitude. Train your mind to appreciate everything around you – trees, clouds, your home, food, and so forth. Through practice, you will learn a sense of gratitude for your life and everything in it.
2. Meditate on peaceful concepts and simple thoughts. Meditate on gratitude as noted above, and think about what you are doing at that moment – breathing, sitting, experiencing. Breathe very deliberately and think about<|fim_middle|> tea in the evening. Chamomile helps calm fears and anxiety, and it promotes sleep. Getting enough sleep is an important factor in alleviating anxiety.
P.S. If self help techniques don't seem to be working for you please seek professional care, you are so worth it! | each breath. Feel and listen to your heart beat.
3. Let the past go, and recognize that you can not change it. Look at mistakes as learning experiences, and view hard experiences as tools that shaped and honed you.
4. Let the future go as well. You can not control it, and the only influence you have over it is what you are doing in the here and now. Recognize that worrying does not influence the future at all.
5. Exercise is very helpful in generating endorphins and other feel-good body chemicals, and it can help work out anxiety through physical means.
6. Reduce clutter in your living space to help ease your anxious mind. If de-cluttering the whole house is unrealistic, then pick a room or even a corner or special area that is clean and clutter-free. Just looking at this area throughout the day can help ease your mind and keep it focused. Make this your meditation space.
7. Commune with nature, and learn lessons from quietly observing the plants and animals around you. Think only about what you are doing at that moment. Meditate on how the landscape looks right now, and take it in with a sense of awe. Nature helps you recognize how small you are, and thus how small your problems are in comparison.
8. Listen to peaceful, relaxing music or nature sounds on CD. Let the music transport you into a peaceful state. Play music that brings back good memories, and think only of those memories and the music itself.
9. Drink chamomile | 309 |
New Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Inductees
Posted: Jan 16, 2020 / 10:35 AM EST / Updated: Jan 16, 2020 / 02:08 PM EST
The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame announced its 2020 inductees today.
Depeche Mode, The Doobie Brothers, Whitney Houston, Nine Inch Nails, The Notorious B.I.G. and T-Rex will be joinging Rock '<|fim_middle|>, Ohio. It will be broadcast live on HBO.
Statewide positivity rate for COVID-19 in New York hovering around 7%
ALBANY, N.Y. (WSYR-TV) -- On Tuesday, New York State Governor Andrew Cuomo gave an update on New York's progress when it comes to the COVID-19 pandemic. Overall, more than 177,000 tests were performed on Monday, putting the state's positivity rate at just over 7%.
"On the eve of a new federal administration, New York is encouraged by the accelerated progress we are confident we will make in the coming months on the COVID front," Governor Cuomo said. "We are seeing new strains of the virus from the UK, South Africa, and Brazil that could spark a second wave. New York has used our experience from the spring to prepare our hospitals and our residents as we continue to fight this invisible enemy. As we prepare for better days, I encourage all New Yorkers to remain New York Tough: wear a mask, social distance and avoid large gatherings." | n' Roll's exclusive club.
A band or performer can't be nominated until 25 years after their first album is released. The 35th annual rock and roll hall of fame induction ceremony will take place on May 2nd in Cleveland | 51 |
1967 Fender Twin Reverb Blackface Vintage Tube Amp 2x12 with Oxford 12T6 Speakers
Up for sale, a 1967 Fender Twin Reverb in exceptional condition and in perfect working order. A freshly serviced and very original example, this Twin's condition is all the more uncommon given its size. While Fender's smaller combos of the era can occasionally be found in pristine shape, it's significantly rarer to find Fender's gig-worthy large combos (which generally saw much rougher usage) as well-kept as this example. This Twin delivers warm, articulate cleans with ample bass response, a wide-ranging and responsive EQ, and present, sparkling Fender top end. When it comes to the quintessential Blackface Fender amp for clarity, headroom, and the balanced, authoritative response of a four 6L6 driven tube amp, it's hard to beat the Twin.
The tube-driven Reverb effect has incredibly depth and splash, and the Tremolo has a strong pulse with a wide range of speeds. It's as iconic a design as Leo Fender ever created, also very well-suited to amplifying pedal steel or electric piano in the vein of a Wurlitzer or Fender Rhodes. The circuit<|fim_middle|> the sweet, musical character of the Blackface-era preamps. The preamp features just a few new electrolytic caps, and even the original Mallory main filter caps are intact and still viable. The power tubes are a quad of properly biased Sovtek 5881WTX (6L6), and the preamp tubes are all matched modern Sovtek-branded valves as well.
All of the original Schumacher-made transformers are intact, all dating to mid-1967, and the original CTS pots have visible date codes from the 51st week of'66. The speakers are a matched pair of vintage Oxford 12T6s, both featuring original cones and dating a hair earlier than the amp, with date codes on the frames from the 49th week of'65. These speakers easily handle the power of the Twin, and the speaker harness is original too. The tube chart is intact, stamped with a bold "QH" date code which translates to October of 1967. The original black tolex is exceptionally clean, with sparingly little wear on the edges of the enclosure.
The silver sparkle grillcloth shows only modest darkening over the decades, with one small hole that has been cleanly patched from the backside with matching cloth. The faceplate is notably well-kept, retaining its full compliment of original witch hat knobs, and the original backplate is intact too, with the SSN of a previous owner etched into the plate. All of the original hardware is present, including the chrome tilt back legs, nickel corners, sphinx glides, handle, and raised Fender logo on the amp's face. Check out our shop "Mike & Mike's Guitar Bar, " and please let us know if we can answer any questions!
We use double thick boxes, 1" foam, and industrial 1/2" bubble wrap to ensure that your amp arrives safely. International orders will be declared as merchandise, and the value of merchandise will be declared as the amount paid. We cannot declare anything as a gift or for a lesser value. The item "1967 Fender Twin Reverb Blackface Vintage Tube Amp 2x12 with Oxford 12T6 Speakers" is in sale since Saturday, January 9, 2021.
This item is in the category "Musical Instruments & Gear\Guitars & Basses\Guitar Amplifiers". The seller is "mmguitarbar" and is located in Seattle, Washington. This item can be shipped worldwide.
Number of Channels: 2
Number of Speakers: 2
Model: Twin Reverb
Amplifier Technology: Vacuum Tube
MPN: None
Amplifier Type: Combo
Brand: Fender
Suitable For: Electric Guitar | is extremely clean and straight, with all of the original blue molded Ajax capacitors in the preamp, a key part of | 25 |
Call for proposals M20 PhD Scholarship Programme 2022
The Ubbo Emmius Fund invites scholars at the University of Groningen and UMCG to submit proposals for multidisciplinary projects that bolster the objectives of the UG Schools. The M20 PhD Scholarship Programme was first announced on 8 February and is entirely funded through a substantial donation by an anonymous donor.
In 2022, the programme provides funding for four (4) PhD scholarship positions for the following UG Schools:
The Wubbo Ockels School (energy transition and climate adaptation)
The Aletta Jacobs School of Public Health (healthy ageing)
The Jantina Tammes School (digital innovation, artificial intelligence, and technological development)
The Agricola School for Sustainable Development (governance, politics, and sustainable processes)
All information regarding the call (who can apply? what to apply for?), the application process, and other conditions are stipulated in the Call for Proposals and its appendices. After the applicant's registration, the applications are to be submitted via the same portal.
The deadline for applications is Monday 18 April, 12 p.m.
Last modified: 29 March 2022 4.37 p.m.
Groningen contributes to major research initiative into energy-efficient information technology
The Dutch science funding agency NWO recently awarded a large research project into new concepts for energy-efficient information technology of no less than ten million euros
Frans J. Sijtsma new Director Agricola School
On the recommendation of the Board of the University of Groningen, Dr Frans J. Sijtsma has been appointed as academic director of the Rudolf Agricola School for Sustainable Development with effect from 1 February 2<|fim_middle|> shops. What kinds of things can you buy there? A knowledge sandwich? A wisdom smoothie? Bacteria on demand? It is not clear to everyone what science shops have to offer. And yet, they play an important role for society, researchers, and... | 023. This concerns a 0.5 FTE...
Science Shops: bridging the gap between university and society
Science | 27 |
Students start planning for their college experience as early as their freshman year of high school. During this time, students will be focused on getting the best grades possible and begin thinking about which colleges they may be interested in attending. Also, students will be contemplating what major they are interested in, which can sometimes help narrow the choices of colleges.
These guides for Creating an Online College Plan and our College Planning Guide can be extremely helpful for any college, online or on-campus.
Knowing which colleges or university you really would like to attend can help students know which courses to best complete their high school schedules with. Early in their high school career, they may want to ask themselves, their parents, and their school guidance counselor what would look best on their college applications. This may influence which extracurricular activities in which the student chooses to participate.
High<|fim_middle|> State and Location.
For an interesting read, be sure to check out 12 Secrets Colleges Don't Want You to Know or Top 60 Schools Sorted into Hogwarts' Houses. | School students will start studying for the ACT and SAT tests. It is a common recommendation for students to take the ACT in the spring of their junior year of high school and then again in the fall of their senior year. The following links are excellent resources for students to help boost their standardized test scores and plan for college.
Are ACT prep courses worth taking?
Should I take ACT test prep classes?
What is the best ACT prep to use?
There are quite a few things that you need to know when starting the college application process. Students should start their college search and continue their college planning early on to ensure they are able to get into a top choice school. Students who are looking for early admissions need to know when to start applying for college so as not to miss their opportunity.
Usually, students will reserve this for their top school and apply for either Early Action or Early Decision at that school. Early Decision will bind the student to attend that college upon acceptance. Early Action is a non-binding acceptance to the college or university. If you are unsure which type of early admissions are available at your school or schools of choice, be sure to ask someone from their admissions office.
Students interested in applying to more than one college for ED or EA need to be sure to check with the schools to find out if it is permitted. It varies from school to school. Keep in mind that Early Decision is binding, so only one ED application can be submitted.
Does applying for Early Decision or Early Action increase a student's chances of being accepted?
Usually yes, but sometimes only by 1 or 2%.
Applying for early acceptance can alleviate some of the stress of applying to multiple schools, particularly when the student is accepted. Be sure to check deadlines for all schools to be sure you will know the EA or ED decision in time to meet the regular registration deadlines for other schools which you intend to apply.
When is the deadline for Early Action and Early Decision?
This will vary from school to school. For some, it may be as early as October and for others, November 1 is a popular deadline.
So what happens if you missed your Early Decision or Early Action deadlines or were not accepted? Some schools have started offering an Early Action II, which would give students another opportunity for early acceptance. If this is not offered, be sure not to miss the standard application deadline.
When are college applications due?
Usually, the regular deadline will fall sometime in December or January, depending on which school you've chosen.
The image is a screen capture from the University of South Carolina.
When filling out college applications, this is a big question for many students. The limit on the number of colleges that Common Application allows a student to send their application to is a total of 20. For most this is not necessary, though it is always a good idea to ask your guidance counselor for their opinion.
Students are often urged to explore many choices and, on average, pick 6 to 8 colleges to apply to. Two or 3 colleges will be considered dream schools and are excellent candidates for submitting an early application to. Students should also pick out 2 or 3 schools that they feel they are very likely to be accepted to. Lastly, students should apply to 2 schools where they are certain to be accepted to serve as a safety net if they are very unlucky with being accepted to their other choices.
What information do I need for my college application?
Outside of personal information such as name, address, and so on, students will need to check with the schools they are applying to for specific details. For example, some schools prefer the SAT score over the ACT and vice-versa. In some cases, you may need SAT subject test scores in addition to the ACT.
One of the huge things students and their parents are concerned about when preparing for college is saving money for college. Saving for college should start early on in the student's life continuing likely until they have their degree.
The best way to save for college is to have a plan and be able to set aside a specific amount each week or month. Often times even students with the best college savings plans still find themselves saving while attending college to be sure they are adequately prepared for all semesters.
The financial aid definition by Merriam-Webster is "money that is given or lent to students in order to help pay for their education". This includes loans, grants, and scholarships.
Most students will apply for college financial aid using the Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA) in order to help pay for college expenses. In today's world, education is a very large expense and even those who save money as much as they can, often find that the cost exceeded their expectations. Students will want to check out the FAFSA Checklist for Financial Aid to find a list of all they will need when it's time to fill out the application for financial aid.
There are a large number of scholarships available. While students who use the FAFSA in order to gain access to grants, scholarships, and loans, the following links may also be of help to those seeking scholarships.
Being adequately prepared for the financial burdens that come with going to school may help alleviate some of the college stress which students inevitably face. Be sure you are aware of the cost of tuition, fees, living expenses, book costs, technology fees, lab fees, and any other extra costs you may encounter.
College life and the terms associated with college can be extremely confusing to anyone who has not attended. Even then, there still may be some nuances that simply aren't that clearly defined when just heard or read in context. We have a few of the more popular questions and answers for you below.
Are there really FREE laptops and degrees?
Seeing or hearing the word "free" is usually a big attention-getter and if you've ever gotten a so-called free item, chances are you realized that it's not really free. Often things are buy-one (at an inflated retail price) and get-one-free, which is usually just paying for both items on one ticket. With the free laptop situation, it's best to do your research. If you want a shortcut to that, you can view some of the articles below.
Free degree programs, on the other hand, are much more on-the-level. It's certainly worth the time to check out these articles to find out what the real deal is with earning a free degree.
In today's world, having a college degree is almost mandatory in order to secure a job which will pay enough to allow you to be self-sufficient. All college courses will be challenging, but online courses often provide extra flexibility for the students so that they can maintain a job while still completing their coursework to earn their degree. The following articles may be helpful for deciding if online college is right for you and where the best online colleges to suit your needs can be found.
How Can I Find The Best Online Degrees?
How do online colleges compare to traditional colleges?
What are some of the best online colleges?
Freshman year, in particular, is a huge adjustment period. Not only are you learning advanced academics, but you're also learning how to be more independent. The following are some good articles to help you keep up and stay ahead of the learning curve as much as possible.
Going to school and earning your degree wasn't all about that pretty piece of paper you get at graduation. Nearly all schools have a Career Services office with advisors who can help you make sure that you are on the correct educational path for the career you want, help you find internships, notify you when there are job fairs, and help you get the job you have worked hard educating yourself to perform. The following links can help you find out more about career services and keeping your online profiles employable.
What is a career services advisor?
What are the best online colleges for career services?
How can online colleges with career services help me?
There's a big reason why there's a poor college student stereotype with ramen noodles and Kraft (or off-brand) mac and cheese as food staples. That reason is the huge expense that is going to college. Even students who saved for college, work and go to school still find themselves struggling to pay everything as it falls due. The following resources may help you cope with managing your money better during and after college years.
Students interested in attending college online will be interested in checking out the Top 100 Best Online Colleges ranking.
If you are interested in learning more about Universities in Texas, check out our rankings for the Top 20 Best Online Colleges in Texas and Top 20 Best Online Colleges Near Houston. If you're interested in learning more about colleges in New York, California, or other places, check out The Best Online College or University by | 1,776 |
If you just work harder, your lifts will surely improve…right? Unfortunately, the undeniable truth is that you need to get more proficient technique in order to realize monumental gains from those grueling training sessions. With our cost-effective guidance, you can get better at weightlifting (even in your garage or by yourself the corner of the gym)! After all, when you spend hours grinding away, you deserve to reap the harvest of your hard work!
"Thank you so much. I didn't even notice my mistakes!
We believe in the tri<|fim_middle|>After you receive your drill, you have 1 week to upload a video of you practicing your new drill for free feedback!
Very few things are more frustrating than missing the same weight over and over again. Knowing you could be lifting more if you could just get a little better technique. Let us help you increase your lifts and know that you are doing the things necessary to get better, stronger, and reach your goals. | age method of coaching. Find the mistake that makes the biggest difference and fix it! Although many people make the same mistakes, it takes an experienced coach to offer a reliable solution that fits your individual unique needs.
Free follow-up analysis of you practicing the drill assigned!
Use the button below to check out.
After payment, follow the e-mailed link to upload a video of your lift (choose 1 lift from the list below).
Receive your video analysis, voice-over analysis, written analysis, and drill to fix your lift within 3 days.
| 110 |
Be inspired in our luxurious meeting rooms which<|fim_middle|> meetings and conferences, corporate team building and private dinners. The Resort is also available exclusively, should the event call for it. Our experienced team will ensure a memorable event with their attention to detail and expert hospitality.
At the five-star Druids Glen Hotel & Golf Resort, nature and luxury meet to create a memorable event. The superior business facilities and refreshing natural environment at Druids Glen make doing business a pleasure.
Choose from a range of elegant private rooms in the hotel with a variety of capacities or consider the period charm of Woodstock House, a wonderful 1700's period house steeped in history.
If energising your team is first on your agenda, then we have the expertise and ideas to help you achieve the right results. | have been named after some of the literary greats; William Butler Yeats, James Joyce and Oscar Wilde.
Druids Glen provides a range of versatile spaces with complimentary Wifi which can be adapted to meet your requirements. Choose from eight suites, the largest catering for up to 400 delegates, as well as an outdoor team building space.
We cater for executive retreats, incentive programmes, | 79 |
Marketing collateral is more than a few pretty pictures and some copy text. It's aim is to symbolise everything about your offering, and to become the embodiment of your prospect's "want to have".
Creating the want to have is about positioning yourself to be accessible, approachable, but also desirable and thus at a little distance. The tantalisingly "so<|fim_middle|> use of collateral will save time and provide a prospect with the context needed to pursue a discussion with you. Inevitably, some of your marketing efforts may go unanswered – this is the reality. But conveying the right message can help set the tone for a future relationship based on your value proposition.
Knowing your value proposition will also guide discourse with other prospects who have not received such marketing.
Contact us to discuss your creative needs. | close you can touch it".
Commonly we are asked to assist in the production of website copy. This is tremendously useful when designing a website, as being able to influence the entire end product means the two worlds of design and content are considered hand-in-hand, rather than having one made to fit the other.
The purposes of marketing collateral are varied. It can be for a one-off event, or for more general use – such as for general mailing list duties. But it should always suit the purpose.
The correct | 103 |
It can be tough to find a decently priced hotel room in New York City, and many tourists end up spending a ton of money on accommodations alone. Sometimes they aren't even able to get a hotel right in the middle of the action and end up on the outskirts, requiring longer transit times to popular sights. If the idea of a super small hotel room doesn't bother you, a Pod hotel room can save you a ton of money and put you in a great location.
Cleveland.com highlighted a 10×12 foot room at The Pod Hotel this week which is a no-frills alternative to overpriced hotel rooms and too-full hostels in the Big Apple. The concept is simple with clean, comfortable accommodations in smaller than usual rooms.
As a bonus, all the guest rooms look like they have windows, something that isn't always the case in pod hotels where space is at a premium.
There are free walking tours offered to guests, and Pod Hotel 51<|fim_middle|>'m not into sharing a bathroom. I would spring for the cost of a "full" room to get the private bath. Worth the extra cost to me.
Me too, RMF325. Thanks for reading! | also has a rooftop deck and cafe.
Looking at the smallest Single Pod option in Pod Hotel 51, it didn't give me square footage but promised a desk, twin bed, free wifi, safe, open closet, thermostat, LCD flat screen TV and hairdryer.
Choosing a random midweek date in January, the price came back at $70 with no prepayment required. Free cancellation was offered with no penalty if done 24 hours before check-in. $70 is an outstanding rate to stay right in Manhattan!
The only issue I had was the shared bathroom. No thanks, I'd rather have my own.
The next category up was the Bunkbed Pod Room at $75, which still had a shared bath but would be great for those who have kids (or want to feel like one).
Moving up to the Full Pod, the description included a private bathroom with rainshower for $90 a night and the Queen Pod for 2 people was $105. I could tell from the pictures that the space was still small, but efficient. There was even a Studio Pod which sleeps 4, though not available for my test date.
Selecting a more desirable date of Saturday August 22, 2015 the rate for a Queen Pod was still reasonable at $190.
Another Pod hotel is set to debut in Washington DC in the fall of 2016.
Would you stay in a tiny hotel room to save money?
I would have no problem staying in a tiny hotel to save money!
I far prefer something modern and clean, but tiny, to something bigger but older and in need of a refresh.
Plus you can't beat the location Marc. It's no wonder business is brisk and I'll be curious to see if there will be more of these in 5 years. Thanks for reading!
I'm fine with the small room and small bed, but I | 394 |
Need Housing Help?
The Housing Challenge
Current Program Areas
Gabrielle Clowdus has a mega plan for addressing homelessness: "micro enterprises"
Gabrielle Clowdus was a PhD student at the U of M studying global poverty when she was struck by the housing disparities in her own Twin Cities community. "I had never really looked at poverty in my own backyard," she says. "There is this blind stereotype that if you were in the US, you were being taken care of. But we know that's not true."
She began researching how the effects of homelessness and unstable housing were showing up in hospital emergency rooms across the country. She had conversations with doctors and nurses and healthcare<|fim_middle|> to live there, too." In other words, housing is about more than shelter; it's about supporting a sense of purpose and building meaningful connections.
That idea drove Gabrielle and a team of design students, architects, builders, volunteers, church leaders, and thinkers and doers to develop a plan for tiny homes or "micro enterprises" that could be erected on land owned and operated by faith organizations. "They can do something the market can't do, that developers can't do", Gabrielle says. "It's an opportunity to carry out their mission in real ways."
Erecting tiny homes on religious land is a huge cost-saving solution that Gabrielle says could result not only in more homes being built, but homes that already have community readily built in. The group has finalized the first $25,000 prototype, which they plan to use as a model for developing more homes on religious land throughout the Twin Cities over the next few years. "Churches have a lot of resources in their staff, and in their land and building. They can be trained in resident care and other pieces," Gabrielle says. "They can really tap into people power. We can fundraise for this and we don't have to compete for public dollars. And we can take the prototype and those breakthrough moments we have to cities and religious leaders across the country….We can't not do this. We have to do this. We all do better when everyone is being taken care of."
More News & Stories
310 4th Ave. South | Suite 9000 | Minneapolis, MN 55415 | Directions & Parking | advocates around ending the revolving door of emergency care: Can housing be something that is prescribed for good health, in the same way a doctor can prescribe an inhaler for asthma? What if we could prescribe housing, almost as the first remedy, for all things that ail people?
And she started to take her research even further, looking at how models of Housing First versus Community First reduced homelessness and the serious health issues associated with it. "Unlike Housing First, Community First is relational. It gets to that deepest core desire: To live in a community where we are seen and valued. Where we have purpose. It's about people living in a community next door to people who want | 135 |
Barry received his undergraduate degree from Baylor University, earned a marketing certification from SMU's Cox School of Business, and has lectured on legal marketing at SMU<|fim_middle|> of the circumstances, Barry is particularly proud of the trust and confidence he's earned from his clients, and from the reporters who rely on his responsiveness and professionalism.
If you're having a trivia contest, you want Barry on your team.
Barry typically reads two-to-three books a week. Fiction, non-fiction; you name it.
Writing an article under your byline for a daily newspaper or a business, legal or industry publication can be an effective way to showcase your expertise. | 's Dedman School of Law. He's also held leadership roles with a number of civic and professional organizations, and his knowledge of the business, legal and media communities often supports his work.
During his almost 15 years with Androvett Media & Marketing, Barry has guided clients and companies in a number of high-profile matters involving contentious litigation, regulatory hearings, as well as state and federal investigations. He's successfully engaged with local and national media at trials and for other work across the nation.
Regardless | 101 |
Shunsaku, brings a versatile technical toolset to WOW joining the company in 2017 as an award winning creative technical<|fim_middle|> illusionary effect produced by combining projection mapping, box animation, and lighting. We believe that we enlivened the event by our creation of a space and experience full of surprises. | director. Focusing his energy on expression and creativity he views technology as a tool not the medium. Shunsaku has received an ADC One Award for technical direction and is capable of developing for web, mobile, programing for interactive video, system development, and installation art.
With one of the key visual elements of fashion shows, White Cube (=white boxes), as a motif, we arranged 125 boxes on the wall above the stage in a geometric pattern. We began with projection mapping onto this wall of boxes and, in the middle of the event, used other devices and programming to animate the opening of their lids. We utilized the | 129 |
Sadie Lyth - a female celebrity - born on Sunday<|fim_middle|> the lead and others follow.
Lyth may be lacking sensitivity - due to her concentration on the tasks and goals ahead and her no-nonsense and straight-forward attitude. | November 15th 1981, in Unknown.
Sadie Lyth is the philanthropist and humanitarian who is deeply concerned about the state of the world, for which she has great compassion and idealism. She has a utopian personality, and will spend her life trying to realize some aspect of her utopian dream, sacrificing money, time, and energy for a better world.
Her broad outlook on life allows Lyth to see the big picture, and to often shy away from dealing with the minute details. That is why Sadie Lyth attracts people who can fit into her larger plans and take over the areas she considers uninteresting. Consequently, Sadie evaluates people on the basis of what they can do for the larger cause. She is a true egalitarian, rarely prejudiced and would not accept social biases of people.
Sadie Lyth has a romantic personality, but her love is more impersonal as she tends to be focused on her dreams instead. When not in harmony with her true nature, Sadie can fall to moodiness, or become aloof, and withdrawn. She can also become timid, uncertain, and ungrateful, putting the blame for her troubles on others or the world. She is often disappointed by the realities of life, her own shortcomings, and those of others, and is relentlessly driven to improve upon it all - striving for greater accomplishments. This is Sadie's life-lesson - to accept the natural limitations of the world and its habitants in order to make it possible for her to enjoy life more fully.
Entrepreneurial and progressive, Sadie Lyth is ever-striving, heading for the top, and enjoying an enterprising, ambitious and determined personality to do things well, and an unyielding dedication to her plan until the goals are achieved.
There is danger, however that her trait of determination and dedication will shift to stubbornness, making Sadie cling to ideas and projects well past their fruitious season. It is a good idea for her to keep fresh pipeline of ideas to make it easier to replace outdated plans by new and better ones.
Patient as she is towards her goals, Sadie's flying, ravaging temper endangers her relationships with the very same people that will help her to accomplish those goals. She should use her strength of will to study and practice anger management.
Sadie Lyth wakes up on April 22nd 2019 with renewed energy, dynamic and looking forward to new beginning.
Sadie radiates authority that make it only natural that she takes | 517 |
Help us protect lichen and moss covered rock, vernal pools and vegetated soil islands in this home to sandy oak, pine and hickory forests by removing invasive species like Chinese privet at Camp Meeting Rock in Heard County, Georgia. Enjoy lunch at this preserve's rock formations which are part of one of the largest granite outcrops in Georgia's Piedmont area. Afterwards, we will tour this place that protects some of Georgia's rarest – and most endangered – plants, including the black-spored quillwort, which is found at fewer<|fim_middle|> at Camp Meeting Rock. | than 10 locations globally.
Granite outcrops in Georgia represent significant sites for biodiversity, and Camp Meeting Rock is no exception. Home to several federally and state listed threatened or endangered plants, it is an important landscape to protect and help thrive. Earning its name in the latter part of the 19th century when families would camp and hold religious meetings during the summer months in the shadow of the property's stunning granite outcrop, Camp Meeting Rock is worth a day spent protecting this amazing landscape.
Restrooms: There are no restrooms on this easement/preserve.
To learn more about volunteer opportunities, contact tncgeorgia@tnc.org or call 404-253-7255.
Join us | 152 |
Marta Helena Nobel-Oleinikoff (Russian: Марта Людвиговна Нобель-Олейник<|fim_middle|> emigrants to Sweden
Swedish people of Russian descent | ова), née Marta Helena Nobel (9 October 1881, Saint Petersburg – 1973, Stockholm), was a Russian-Swedish physician and philanthropist and member of the Nobel family. She was the daughter of industrialist and humanitarian Ludvig Nobel and the niece of Alfred Nobel.
In 1904, she graduated from the St. Petersburg's Women's Medical Institute, presently First Pavlov State Medical University of St. Peterburg, its Surgery Clinic. She was the head physician of the Branobel war hospital and was awarded the Finnish Winter War Medal in 1940.
In 1905, she married a doctor specialist in infectious diseases, professor G. P. Oleinikoff.
She was the grandmother of Michael Nobel.
Nobel opposed the creation of the Bank of Sweden prize in economics, and stated in a letter to the Nobel Foundation in 1968 that the Nobel family would not allow it to be named a Nobel prize.
References
Marta Helena
Russian | 213 |
I have been a brittle asthmatic since early childhood but the severity and frequency of attacks has increased over the past 14 years, resulting in several ventilated episodes in ICU. Some of the admissions have been comparatively uneventful whilst others have been more traumatic for both myself and<|fim_middle|> away?
I need to get things sorted out and settled in my mind.
I need to come to terms with life – and death – so peace I'll find.
And carry on with my life feeling undeterred. | those close to me.
I had never spoken to anyone at length about my experiences; I always thought that because I was a qualified nurse I shouldn't feel vulnerable and anxious, or 'fall to pieces', so didn't: not on the outside anyway. I thought that was what I should expect, and what was expected of me by others. I kept my feelings to myself, and wrote a journal and poetry about those feelings. Putting things on paper did help, but later found a new meaning to the power of speech.
initially I felt relief, as if a weight had been lifted.
a few hours later I 'fell to pieces', as everything that had been conveniently stored at the back of my mind had been pushed to the front.
and finally acceptance, in equal measures, of what had happened, what could happen in the future, and that support offered should be grabbed with both hands.
Admissions continue, but the psychological aspect is now easier to deal with. I still keep my journal up to date and have written a few more poems, which still helps put thing into perspective, but am still reassured that there is always someone to talk to if I need that little bit of extra help.
But the more I think about it, no nearer do I get.
And put the trauma and the stress so very far behind.
It's such a strange old feeling to know that for some time - how long?
I was not alive on earth, but was dead and so was gone.
How long id it last? What did they do? And whatever did they say?
What exactly went on while I was so far | 326 |
Will Hannah feeds Caleb Cox (aka Big Hoss) for the alley-oop in a big win over #8 Marietta on Jan. 31, 2019<|fim_middle|>'t a problem when you have a guy like Ganiyu Yahaya following up the play!
Cam Caldwell sets up his own fastbreak dunk against Westminster.
Chevy HayslettThe senior was a true STUDENT-athlete after pitching a gem, giving a class presentation, and then returning to deliver the walk-off homer!
Hall of FameThe Varsity C Athletic Hall of Fame recognizes the best of the best to ever play a varsity sport or contribute toward the advancement of Cap Athletics. Learn more about those immortalized for their contributions on and off of the field of play.
All-AmericansCapital University is proud to highlight a collection of student-athletes that have been recognized as the best of the best in the nation among NCAA Division III. These individuals represent a select group of elite athletes that have emerged out of a rigorous selection process to earn the title, All-American.
All-AmericansCapital University is proud to highlight a collection of true student-athletes, that not only do their business well on their respective playing surface, but all in the classroom. These individuals are a true representation of the Pride of the Purple and the White and represent the true student-athlete.
Varsity CHelp us support our current Capital student-athletes with the tools and backing needed to bring home the win! Varsity C supports Capital Athletics and builds bridges and promote fellowship with past, present and future Crusaders. Will you join the team behind the teams?
Photo GalleriesCheck out photo galleries created to capture moments from all 20 varsity sport teams. Big hits, huge buckets, monstrous spikes, and uplifting goals ... view them or make them your own! | .
Misses aren | 4 |
Former Baraka Student Sentenced to 70 Months for Drug Conspiracy …
Posted on Fri 02/03/2012 by d3admin
By Tricia Bishop, The Baltimore Sun
7:04 PM EST, February 2, 2012
A federal court judge on Thursday sentenced 21-year-old Romesh Vance, who was featured in a 2005 documentary about Baltimore boys sent to boarding school in Kenya, to 70 months in prison for participating in a drug conspiracy at the Gilmor Homes public housing complex.
"I'm hoping that Mr. Vance will be one of the real success stories," U.S. District Judge Benson E. Legg said in handing down the sentence. Legg noted Vance's youth, "tremendous" family support and the many opportunities he's had in his short life that have shown him better ways of doing things.
"He has had good role models," Legg said. "He's not a person who's only seen the bad side."
Vance was 12 when he was chosen to be one of 20 underprivileged city kids sent in 2003 to the Baraka School, which was started by the Abell Foundation in the mid-1990s to teach middle-schoolers in an environment far away from city dangers. But the school closed after his<|fim_middle|>… Goodbye, Mr. Vance. … | first year there, and Vance returned to the United States.
Over the next several years, he would give up a position at a Mississippi boarding school, leave his mother's home, and gain — then lose — a spot as an extra on the HBO series "The Wire," before turning to street crimes.
He was previously convicted of gun and drug possession and has been charged with other crimes, including murder and kidnapping, though those cases were dropped. He pleaded guilty in federal court in October to dealing crack and cocaine at Gilmor with 21 others, who have also been convicted in the case.
"Romesh has failed to seize upon a number of the extraordinary opportunities," Vance's attorney, Charles N. Curlett Jr., wrote in a sentencing memorandum. "This realization contributes significantly to his true remorse and repentance."
Vance, who has a 13-month-old daughter, told the judge he was "taking full responsibility" for his actions.
"I am willing to change," he said, "to be a better man, a better father."
tricia.bishop@baltsun.com
| 223 |
SAN FRANCISCO — Findings from preclinical studies in a skin cancer model showed that next-generation BRAF inhibitors used alone, or first-generation BRAF inhibitors used in combination with an epidermal growth factor receptor inhibitor, may have the potential to prevent drug-induced skin lesions in BRAF mutation-positive patients treated for melanoma.
The studies, presented at the AACR-NCI-EORTC International Conference: Molecular Targets and Cancer Therapeutics, held Nov. 12-16, 2011, further elucidated the potential mechanism of action underlying this skin lesion side effect, which<|fim_middle|> and enhanced growth. In contrast, Plexxikon's novel "paradox breakers" did not induce this upregulation and, therefore, may prevent the skin lesion side effect observed for all first-generation BRAF inhibitors to date.
Bollag said he and his research team were initially surprised by the upregulation of growth factor expression but were able to identify its cause with a model system. They then used this model system to differentiate the new "paradox breaker" compounds.
The "paradox breakers," which are in preclinical development, are being studied in BRAF-mutant cancer, and Plexxikon is aiming to file an investigational new drug application in 2012.
The mission of the American Association for Cancer Research is to prevent and cure cancer. Founded in 1907, the AACR is the world's oldest and largest professional organization dedicated to advancing cancer research. The membership includes 33,000 laboratory, translational and clinical researchers; health care professionals; and cancer survivors and advocates in the United States and more than 90 other countries. The AACR marshals the full spectrum of expertise from the cancer community to accelerate progress in the prevention, diagnosis and treatment of cancer through high-quality scientific and educational programs. It funds innovative, meritorious research grants, research fellowships and career development awards to young investigators, and it also funds cutting-edge research projects conducted by senior researchers. The AACR has numerous fruitful collaborations with organizations and foundations in the U.S. and abroad, and functions as the Scientific Partner of Stand Up To Cancer, a charitable initiative that supports groundbreaking research aimed at getting new cancer treatments to patients in an accelerated time frame. The AACR Annual Meeting attracts more than 17,000 participants who share the latest discoveries and developments in the field. Special Conferences throughout the year present novel data across a wide variety of topics in cancer research, treatment and patient care, and Educational Workshops are held for the training of young cancer investigators. The AACR publishes seven major peer-reviewed journals: Cancer Discovery; Cancer Research; Clinical Cancer Research; Cancer Epidemiology, Biomarkers & Prevention; Molecular Cancer Therapeutics; Molecular Cancer Research; and Cancer Prevention Research. In 2010, AACR journals received 20 percent of the total number of citations given to oncology journals. The AACR also publishes Cancer Today, a magazine for cancer patients, survivors and their caregivers, which provides practical knowledge and new hope for cancer survivors. A major goal of the AACR is to educate the general public and policymakers about the value of cancer research in improving public health, the vital importance of increases in sustained funding for cancer research and biomedical science, and the need for national policies that foster innovation and the acceleration of progress against the 200 diseases we call cancer. | could further the development of next-generation drugs with improved safety and efficacy profiles for the treatment of BRAF mutation-positive melanoma, according to the researchers.
In a laboratory study, Bollag and colleagues used skin cells activated by oncogenes such as HRAS or by signaling through the EGFR receptor with a first-generation BRAF inhibitor. They observed that treatment led to upregulation of ligands for the family of HER receptors, consequent skin cell transformation | 92 |
Biggest Ophthalmic event in India/ Asia to be held between Feb 22 -25, 2018 at Codissia Trade Fair Complex, Coimbatore, TN. A Grand event wherein 327 Scientific Sessions will be conducted in 16 parallel halls , around 158 companies and 48 Guest Faculty speakers are expected to attend the conference.
A high-quality scientific program is planned, which will strike a balance between various sub-specialties in Ophthalmology. Various instruction courses, free papers, current concepts, updates will be presented in the conference. Special importance has been given to Physical Posters and Top Innovations of 2017.
Doscon 2018 will be held between April 6 – 8, 2018 in Ashok Hotel, Chanakyapuri, New Delhi. The theme of the conference for this year is "Newer Trends in Ophthalmology". This conference will offer an outstanding summary of the latest advances in all fields from<|fim_middle|>.
The Annual Conference of Intraocular Implant and Refractive Society of India (IIRSI) will be held on 7th & 8th Jul 2018 at Hotel ITC Grand Chola, Chennai.
IIRSI 2018 aims to bring together 2500 Ophthalmologists across India and abroad to discuss the advancement in technology and their experience in IOL implantation and Refractive Surgery, and contribute towards the treatment of preventive blindness.
The 3rd edition of international exhibition and conference on medical device sector is scheduled to be held at Bangalore International Exhibition Centre in Bengaluru, from Feb 15-17, 2018.
India's pioneer medical equipment and technologies exhibition is scheduled to be held at NIPER, SAS Nagar, Mohali in Chandigarh between Feb. 22-24, 2018.
The 19th edition of India's B2B Medical Equipment and Hospital needs exhibition is scheduled to be held at Hitex Exhibition Centre in Hyderabad, India.
The 20th edition of India's B2B Medical Equipment and Hospital needs exhibition is scheduled to be held at Chennai Trade Centre, Chennai, India between 27th to 29th Jul 2018.
The 21st edition of India's B2B Medical Equipment and Hospital needs exhibition is scheduled to be held at Pragati Maidan, New Delhi, India between 21st to 23rd Sep 2018.
AIOC 2018 will be held between 30th March to 1st April 2018 at Constitution club of India, New Delhi. The Theme of the Conference is "Innovations in delivery and access of eye care".
The conference will concentrate on the current and future innovations in areas of eye care. With more than 500 industry experts, representing over 200 organisations, the Conference will provide an exclusive technical forum for participants to discuss, deliberate, exchange and explore the innovations in eye care. | around the world and chance to see the latest technology. This conference will feature live surgical demonstrations in not only phacoemulsification but also other sub specialties of ophthalmology | 35 |
Q: Mathematical identity related to d'Alembert's Principle In Hand & Finch's book on Analytical Mechanics, I came across this mathematical identity Eq. 1.19 in Chapter 1<|fim_middle|>\,du$$
In your equation, if you substitute $v=\vec p$ (that is, $dv=d\vec p$), and $u=\delta \vec r$ , you can then follow the integration-by-part rule and write (multiplying up-and-down by $dt$ each term in both members):
$$\int \frac{d\vec p}{dt}. \delta \vec r dt = \int \frac{d(\vec p . \delta \vec r)}{dt}dt- \int\vec p\frac{\delta \vec r}{dt}dt$$ and therefore, by equaling the left and hand side of integration arguments in the equation, you end up with:
$$ \frac{d\vec p}{dt}. \delta \vec r = \frac{d(\vec p . \delta \vec r)}{dt}- \vec p\frac{\delta \vec r}{dt} $$ which is exactly uour equation. As others have said in their comments/answer, this is nothing else than a rearrangement of the product rule (that's really what "integration by parts" actually does)
| , page 5, which is related to the description of d'Alembert's principle:
$$\dot{\vec{p}} \cdot \delta \vec{r}=\frac{d(\vec{p} \cdot \delta \vec{r})}{d t}-\vec{p} \cdot \frac{d(\delta \vec{r})}{d t}.\tag{1.19}$$
Does this identity have a name and could someone please explain it to me?
A: Hint: Do you know the Leibniz rule $$ (fg)'=f'g + f (g')\,?$$
A: Bring over the term on the right, and substitute the notation $\dot{x}\equiv \frac{dx}{dt}$ to get
$$\frac{d(\vec{p} \cdot \delta \vec{r})}{d t} = \frac{d\vec{p}}{dt} \cdot \delta \vec{r} + \vec{p} \cdot \frac{d(\delta \vec{r})}{d t},$$
which is an application of the product rule.
A: Yes this identity has a name, it is the variational equivalent of "integration by part". You are probably familiar with the fact from basic calculus that integration by parts is given by $$\int u.dv = (u.v) - \int v | 300 |
24/5/08 Archbishop's Homily at Lourdes
INTERNATIONAL MILITARY PILGRIMAGE TO LOURDES 2008
Homily Notes of
Most Rev. Diarmuid Martin
Archbishop of Dublin, Primate of Ireland
We are gathered in a privileged place at a privileged moment. We gather at an evidently holy place. We gather on the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the apparitions of Our Lady to the young Bernadette.
Why are we here? Why should over 25,000 people from military and civil defence corps from all over the world gather here, together with the thousands of other pilgrims from all over the world, so different and yet so similar to ourselves, who come to this shrine?
What is it about this Shrine? How can it bring so many together? How can it impress so many: strong believers, the just plain curious, and even perhaps the cynical; how can it gather the sick and the healthy, the important and those without any pretence of importance. Yet coming here to Lourdes all go away with a unique experience.
Why should each year thousands of young men and women come to Lourdes using their holidays to serve as volunteers to assist the sick, when they could just as well go to the fashionable beach resorts of France and Spain just a few kilometres from here? What is it that is so special about Lourdes?
It is something that is hard to explain. Just as the story of Lourdes has been hard to explain over the period since Bernadette first came to this isolated spot and encountered the Blessed Virgin. The fact that Mary should have appeared here to a poor, barely literate girl is in itself something remarkable. The fact that that encounter should result in something which has had an impact for generations, something that has affected the lives of so many and has brought healing and serenity to the gravely sick and the most distressed is something which begs and explanation..
Lourdes is one of the most visited Shrines in the world, of any faith. Yet the first reaction to Bernadette was of opposition and hostility. Lourdes has flourished over decades in the face of a culture of various generations of hostility and miscomprehension.
The apparitions at Lourdes occurred at a high point in a culture of rationalism, where everything had to have its rational explanation or else it was unreal or unauthentic. Over the years, Lourdes has quietly flourished in the face of other hostile cultures, whether of atheistic Marxism or agnostic materialism. Lourdes still retains its unique character and appeal.
When we look closely, we can see that Lourdes is a place where accepted values are overturned. Lourdes is a place where sickness is looked on with respect. The sick and the handicapped are treated in Lourdes as our most treasured pilgrims. No one in Lourdes is judged on outward appearances. A holy shrine welcomes humble sinners. In a world full of self confidence, those who are troubled, who are anxious are accepted and recognised really as pilgrims, all of us on the same path towards an acceptance of that "joyful hope" to which we are all called.
Lourdes is a shrine of Mary, but Mary is the first to point our hearts and minds towards her son Jesus. Mary in her short conversations with Bernadette indicates to us the path towards her son: the path of repentance and penance, the path of prayer and of the Eucharist.
Lourdes is a place of prayer. Come here to the Grotto at any time of day or night and alongside the large pilgrimages, you will find in quiet corners anonymous pilgrims deep in prayer. Who knows how many persons, young and old, have silently come to this sanctuary to place themselves in prayer before Jesus<|fim_middle|> being free from original sin, she in a very special way mirrors that original image of God which was the distinctive mark of humankind, before the damaging and disfiguring sin of Adam. Through her obedience to the Word of God, Mary constitutes the beginnings of the restoration of the original harmony which God had desired for his creation, that redemption through Jesus which will free humanity and creation from the effects of original sin.
Mary, in her entire life, mirrored that fidelity of God and remained faithful and attentive to his word in every moment of her life. We see that from the very first mention of her in the Gospel at the Annunciation up to the last mention in the Acts of the Apostles, where we find her gathered with the small community of the early Church, in prayer and in expectation of the Spirit, imploring the gift of the Spirit for the Church. Mary is always presented as being the one who listens to the word of God and puts it into practice, even in the most difficult moments, because she knew that God would always be faithful to his Word.
Here in Lourdes in these days men and women who have responsibility for the defence and protection of peoples come also to see more clearly their mission as service. Mary, in her Magnificat, is the one who teaches us the folly of human arrogance and indicates the power of humility. In that way she offers a pattern of life which can inspire the particular service of those whose mission is fundamentally a mission of peace. The force of arms can prevent conflict and may be needed to prevent conflict. But the arms of peace are fundamentally an overturning of any form of arrogance through an ability to listen, to understand, to mediate, to reconcile.
We remember at this patently holy place all our friends who have paid the highest price, that of their lives in the cause of peace and understanding. We thank them for their sacrifice. We remember their dear ones who remain, saddened and in grief but also proud of what their family member had achieved.
We pray for peace at this Grotto which is a remarkable oasis of peace and we commit ourselves to being more and more, in our hearts, in our families in our professions as true peacemakers, which is the mark of the children of God.
Homily Notes ofArchbishop of Dublin, Primate of Ireland—————-24 May 2008
Share it with the world...
Dublin Youth leaders Rome Blog
Faithcast | , a prayer of humility admitting one's weakness or sinfulness, a prayer of petition seeking something important for our own lives or for the lives of those dear to us, a prayer to be cured, healed and made fully oneself, a rare moment of genuine prayer of worship an adoration, a recognition of the lordship and transcendence of God.
Lourdes rejects dominant cultures and turns them head over heels. It is not the strength of our own forces which triumphs here, but the power of God. Prayer is a unique way of refinding a balance in our values in today's world. In a world dominated by market values, by power, and by personal attainment, prayer means placing oneself humbly in the presence of a reality that is greater than us and recognising that our lives are in the hand of someone greater than us, and that that someone cares for us and supports us. God is love.
Prayer is that moment in which we rediscover the values of life are not the obvious one of the media or society, but in knowing that there is something more vital and deeper in life. Prayer is not pious conformity, but real revolution in the face of the accepted wisdom that on our own we can do everything. The young person who learns to pray becomes independent of the pressures of our culture. The sick person who learns to pray becomes one who refinds meaning in his or her life and finds that there is a hope that goes beyond outward physical condition.
Prayer is a witness to the total otherness of God. Prayer is the moment in which our faith is expressed in its deepest and most concrete form. It is the moment in which we recognise that the God who is other is a real dimension of our reality, of the reality of my life. Prayer is the moment in which we attempt to make our lives into a concrete response of love to the superabundant love which God shows for us.
Mary is a model for all humanity, also because in | 401 |
Founded in 1952 as the Minnesota Civil Liberties<|fim_middle|> Nonprofit Organization | Union, the ACLU of Minnesota continues to promote, protect, and extend the civil liberties and civil rights of people in Minnesota through litigation, lobbying, and community engagement.
Our vision for our state and country is one that fulfills the promise of the Minnesota and United States Constitutions to protect the civil rights and liberties of everyone. We are the pre-eminent civil liberties organization in Minnesota, and a nationally admired leader among ACLU affiliates.
We are a force to be reckoned with, a staunch defender of civil liberties.
We are a creative and far-sighted thought leader committed to elevating the tone of public debate and speaking to important civil liberties issues.
We are especially mindful of the need to protect the interests of people who are disfavored or marginalized.
We are non-partisan, defending the civil liberties of everyone, regardless of their politics.
We are effective, hard-working, highly qualified, and well-managed.
We are equitable and inclusive in our operations and functions.
Civil Rights and Liberties
We value civil rights and civil liberties for everyone, especially the most vulnerable members of our community who have been historically and systematically deprived of them.
Equity, Equality, and Justice
We value equity for all people, and equal justice under law.
We value the inherent dignity of all people.
We value inclusion and the right of everyone to participate in our democracy, including those with unpopular beliefs.
Member and Community Engagement
We value our members and supporters, who make our work possible, and our community partners, who are our allies in doing our work.
Diversity and Teamwork
We value an equitable, diverse, and inclusive workplace characterized by honesty, excellence, respect, professionalism, and teamwork.
We value the voices, knowledge, and leadership of those who have been historically and systematically excluded and disenfranchised.
WE DEFEND AND PROMOTE THESE CIVIL LIBERTIES AND VALUES THROUGH:
We protect your civil rights by selecting, negotiating, and trying cases with the potential to establish legal precedent, broaden interpretation, and strengthen your civil liberties. We are supported by volunteer attorneys who donate their time and expertise to our cause.
Educating and engaging the public is key to our mission. We seek to educate Minnesotans about their civil liberties by providing schools with educational materials, by speaking in public on civil liberties, and by mobilizing individuals to personally advocate for their rights.
By drafting effective legislation and testifying on bills with civil liberties implications, we ensure that the government does not succeed in infringing on your rights.
Updated 26 June, 2020
American Civil Liberties Union of Minnesota Foundation
501(c)3 | 532 |
The Pro Turn Weird
Famous faces at the Oregon Country Fair
Culture by Andy ValentinePosted on 07/12/2012
Sorry folks, there's actually no definitive evidence suggesting that Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, to whom the reversed title of this story can be credited, ever made it to the Fair, but it didn't take more than three years — after the Fair's beginnings in 1969 — for our annual psychedelic parade in Veneta to start taking on other famous faces.
Carlos Castaneda, peyote proponent and author of The Teachings of Don Juan, was reportedly a multiple attendee to the abstruse happenings of the Fair in the early 1970s, but he wasn't the only icon to grace OCF grounds with his presence.
In 1972, a benefit concert for the Kesey family creamery in Springfield was held off-season on OCF grounds, emceed by Ken Kesey and Merry Prankster Ken Babbs. The outdoors gig coincided with the filming of a movie for the Grateful Dead. Unfortunately the film was never released, but those in attendance certainly got yet another wicked, late-set Dead show under their belts. Apparently the creamery was in dire straits back then, and without this particular show — with its monster turnout at three bucks a head — it would probably not be the Nancy's Yogurt franchise we know and love today.
"The Grateful Dead said it was the stark-nakedest scene they'd ever attended," Chuck Kesey says of his then-not-so-well-to-do Creamery.
That may have been OCF's finest hour, in all reality, but that doesn't mean such events could never again be possible; they're just highly unlikely. The early '70s were simply a different time, and maybe we'll never get the chance to see Grace Slick, leading lady of Jefferson Airplane, dancing in a pseudo-conga line of hemp-clad hippies with a head full of acid, as she supposedly did during one of her visits. And perhaps we won't get a chance to meet Bob Dylan or John Lennon (who only supposedly dropped by, but fuck it, we think it's a cool piece of lore).
At the end of the day, famous people and iconic moments only serve to strengthen the Country Fair's feel: equal, open and humane, no matter how many records you've released, what movies you've starred in or how many books you've published.
At the Country Fair, you're a human being, and that's how you'll be treated. As Castaneda used to say, "I like to walk the fair to be with humanity again."
Tags: OCF / Oregon<|fim_middle|>19, when the Father Frost Winter Multicultural Festival opens its doors at the Lane County Events … Continue reading →
Tags: What's Happening | Country Fair
Father Frost Winter Multicultural Festival
Culture 2 days ago
Get your multi-culti on this weekend, Jan. 18 and | 32 |
Hi everyone .. I'm Maria & the owner of Maria Young Wellbeing.
I qualified in Reflexology in 2016 with a Certificate & Diploma & further trained in holistic therapies such as Indian Head Massage, Ear Candling & Pedicure to bring quality treatments to clients so<|fim_middle|> to bring this beautiful treatment to so many of you. I'm all about empowering & raising each other up, so by sharing basic reflexology skills to parents & carers it raises the profile of reflexology & the wonderful benefits it brings; life-long.
I look forward to taking this programme far and wide & to reach as many parents & children as possible.
My business in based in the beautiful village of Eglinton (5 miles from the city of Derry~Londonderry) where I have my own premises.
This is perfect for parents who choose to avail of the programme on a private 1-1 basis.
Venues for workshops of the programme will be shared once confirmed (limited places on each workshop).
Details on how to book will also be shared, but in the meantime, explore !
Have a browse through the various tabs on the site and have fun with what lies ahead.
You can always contact me directly if you have specific questions.
I look forward to meeting you & 'greeting the feet' of your little one. | they could experience that much needed time-out to relax, reset & rebalance the body & mind.
I am a Member of the Guild of Holistic Therapists (MGHT) and a registered & insured member of GTI (Guild Training Intl) & Balens.
Reflexology for sure, is my favourite treatment (to give & receive). It offers so much & because it's a touch therapy, the results are truly amazing.
It's perfect for all ... newborns, tots, toddlers, teenagers & adults.
My business is booming and there's still more 'feet to greet' but instead of putting my own feet up for a rest I took further training.
I enhanced my skills with Instructor training on 'The Children's Reflexology Programme' and I'm so excited | 159 |
2017 is here and we'd like to wish you all a very Happy New Year! For us 2016 was a wonderful year and we have all of you to thank for that.
Last year we were joined by thousands of you across all of our hotels to enjoy a tranquil break away in the heart of the New Forest, enjoying delicious food in our award-winning restaurants, peaceful strolls around the surrounding heathlands, and fun-filled family days out with our attraction breaks.
Beat the 'January Blues' and for this month only enjoy an overnight bed and breakfast stay starting from £45 per couple at Moorhill House Hotel and £50 per couple at Beaulieu Hotel, Bartley Lodge Hotel and Forest Lodge Hotel. Simply enjoy the serene surroundings, walk through the surrounding woodlands and indulge in our tasty afternoon tea for a real New Forest treat.
If cream tea takes your fancy then all year round we are offering you a two night stay with dinner, bed and breakfast and a complimentary cream tea from £141.60 per person – The perfect treat!
Plan ahead for the February half-term and book a New Forest attraction break with us, at any four of our hotels. Bring the family together and enjoy a two night stay and complimentary tickets to one of the New Forest's most<|fim_middle|> unforgettable breaks away. | popular attractions including Exbury Gardens, National Motor Museum and Buckler's Hard. This stay includes a three course dinner in one of our award-winning restaurants and breakfast in the morning to help you kick-start the day.
If you're after something a bit more active then take advantage of our 1-2 night cycling breaks – All of our hotels are perfectly placed for you to enjoy the spectacular wonders the New Forest has to offer. Follow the many trails and tracks leading you through woodlands, local villages and forests available to download here, or call the reception at your chosen hotel and we can get all your maps and directions printed and ready for you!
If you're one of our New Forest neighbours then book to join us for dinner, cream tea, afternoon tea or if you're passing just simply pop in for some coffee and cake in our lounge or for an evening tipple in one of our bars – We'll see you there!
So, here's to a prosperous 2017 full of mouth-watering food, New Forest walks, family fun and | 213 |
Listening Bar
Legal Thievery
Music michael block | August 23, 2013
words: Mike Block | photos: Rick Wenner
Singing as a Muppet and jamming with Keith Richards are just two of the many distinct bullet points on the resume of musician Joe Delia. The Thieves frontman with a traffic stopping resemblance to Mick Jagger has an all-inclusive musical bio that reads like a cut and paste job from three or four different artists. Delia, who toured the world as Buster Poindexter's pianist (even arranging their dance floor anthem "Hot Hot Hot)," has also written music for Pee Wee's Playhouse, composed the score for the film Bad Lieutenant and provided the musical backup for Richard Belzer's HBO comedy specials. Performing with Bruce Springsteen and producing jazz legend Freddy Hubbard's recordings are just two more vaguely incongruous examples from Delia's career as a musical shapeshifter. "It's all part of the gestalt," he said.
How all of this informs his work with Joe Delia & Thieves, a Montauk-based good-time band known for throwing down a raucous brand of "high amp blues, surf music and rock and roll" is the question.
Despite having recorded or toured with everyone from Dusty Springfield to Pat Benatar, Delia's songs and persona have rarely been out front. "Working with the Thieves is freeing…it is my project… That is a first for me," he said, contrasting his position as chief thief with his more familiar role as ace hired-gun.
He credits his time as a top-flight studio cat in the late '70s with cultivating the skillset required to head the band. "As a studio musician [piano player] in New York City,<|fim_middle|> human love to survive, despite a long-standing infatuation with the summertime haven he calls home. "I didn't know I could write a song like that," he said proudly. "Sexting" is bathed in the gloss of disco-era Stones with both Delias trading titillations. The unsuspecting listener is placed in the role of voyeur. While PJ rocks with a sultry and broad-ranged voice, her husband's delivery may conjure the smoky rasp of Richards and the unflapple talk-croon of Lou Reed. Tempered by a layer of blue-eyed soul, it draws the listener in.
Springsteen's drummer Max Weinberg, a longtime friend of Delia's, made contact from the road. Weinberg not only appears on the Thieves' inaugural cd, but the pair has done everything from touring with Dave Edmunds to producing albums together. Besides lauding his friend as a musician, the drummer related a very personal anecdote that highlights Delia's ability to inspire other musicians. "Joe pointed out to me that my greatest drumming strength was to 'chop wood'… playing that big beat of mine, simple but strong—that should be my calling card," Weinberg said of the 1974 exchange. "It made me a better drummer and I landed the Springsteen job in no small way because of Joe."
Delia has not lost the ability to spark his musical mates. At a recent Swallow East gig in Montauk, the band's live version of "Montauk Moon" heightened the lush summertime vibe even following great renditions of such classics as Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely." The musicians seamlessly traded lead vocals, yet it all revolved around Delia positioned front and center. Depending on the genetics of the song, Delia fronted with slithering sensuality or icy cold intensity. Discussing what he learned from Poindexter on fronting a band he said, "He always put himself up in the face of the audience, which is what you have to do."
Happily ensconced in Montauk with PJ and their sixteen-year-old son Jake, life is good. There are plans for another Joe Delia & Thieves cd and for the band to play more gigs up-island. There is a National Lampoon filmscore in the works and he will be writing for Weinberg's swing band as well. Whether Delia mines his past or his present, his increasingly textured resume will continue to serve as a springboard into his future.
Joe Delia & Thieves Live
September 1, Montauk Yacht Club, Montauk 1pm (kid friendly)
September 21, Stephen Talkhouse, Amagansett 8pm
September 28, Sag Harbor American Music Festival, Bay St. 9pm
6 Degrees of Punk
Buster Poindexter, aka David Johansen, originally cut his chops as lead vocalist for the New York Dolls, the band credited as pioneers of punk and glam rock. Delia's '66 "Muppet punk" Ed Sullivan Show appearance predates the Dolls by five years. It also underscores the two musicians' inevitable paths towards collaboration.
Joe Delia photographed at The Surf Lodge, Montauk
michael block
When roused from his frequent reveries featuring himself as a Beatle, Mike Block is happy to resume his daily pursuits of providing occupational therapy for children with disabilities at Eastern Suffolk Boces and writing about the local music scene for Long Island Pulse magazine.
Glenn Hughes Revisits Deep Purple
Giving fans what they want
He-Bird, She-Bird's Musical Ascent
Americana at its best | I had to be a jack-of-all-trades… If you weren't cutting the gig…there was someone to replace you before the track was over," he said. He also credits his wife PJ, the band's manager and backup singer, for holding something as gelatinous as a rock band together.
Rounding out the Thieves are: Klyph Black (guitar), James Benard (drums), Randy Hudson (guitar and bass) and Mick Hargreaves (bass). "We don't do songs with more than four chords," joked Delia, who brings plenty of his studio-honed piano chops to the mix. While the bluesy ballads and proto-punk rockers off the band's 2011 debut Smoke and Mirrors are usually grounded in a simple structure, the music has a bracing immediacy that elevates the basic blueprints, capturing all the soul and swagger of early rhythm and blues, gospel, punk and rock.
While Delia only embraced the role of lyricist when he formed Thieves three years ago, there have been sporadic successful immersions since the beginning. Delia and his brothers (The Bruthers) wrote the "pre-punk pop" Muppet number they performed on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1966. "In many ways I'm doing the same act I did back then and that is a good feeling," he said. The genre-blending musician has also contributed songs to the films he scored. "Abel Ferrara [director of such Delia-scored films as King of New York and The Blackout] would say, 'We got to fill this spot, write a good song,'" Delia deadpanned.
His Smoke and Mirrors ballad "Under the Montauk Moon" showcases his songwriting talents in a bittersweet story-song sung from the perspective of a fully fleshed out character who realizes he must rely on | 396 |
Mixers: Measuring Performance
May 1, 2015 | Engineering Resources, Frequency Mixers
Measuring mixer performance
Mini-Circuits policy for product measurement and preparation of specifications is straightforward: present the facts so the design engineer can evaluate product data for his or her circuit and system requirements and arrive at a proper design decision. For mixers, which involve control of three signals at different frequencies, particular care is necessary.
A 50Ω broadband system is used for all factory measurements on mixers. This uniformity offers the customer a convenient and consistent means to obtain correlation with data generated by Mini-Circuits. Figure 3 presents conceptual block diagrams of test setups for measuring the performance of Level 7 mixers. In actual practice, both for engineering development and for production testing, highly integrated and automated equipment is used to perform the measurements and document the results.
Figure 3(a-d): Test measurement setups for (a) conversion loss, (b) isolation, (c) VSWR and (d) two-tone, third-order distortion.
Conversion loss measurements
For conversion loss measurements, Figure 3 (a), fixed attenuator pads are connected to all three ports so the mixer sees 50Ω at the frequency of interest and all significant harmonics.
For the IF power measurement, a low pass filter is included before the power meter, to reject all responses other than the desired IF. For<|fim_middle|> drive and RF power in the linear operating range are applied. A spectrum analyzer replaces the RF voltmeter. This technique ensures measurement integrity: the power at the fundamental frequency of measurement is distinguishable from other components in the spectrum. For broadband applications, the effects of harmonics can be judged. For narrow-band applications, only the fundamental need be considered.
VSWR measurements
VSWR measurements are made under the same dynamic conditions that the mixer would encounter in practice, see Figure 3 (c). First, let's consider VSWR measurement at the RF port. An LO signal is applied to its port and the unused IF port is terminated in 50Ω. The RF generator supplies an input level corresponding to linear mixer operation. With the mixer disconnected from the directional coupler, a reference level is obtained (all the RF power is reflected back). The amount of reflected signal depends on the directional coupler used; a 20 dB coupler would establish a reference level 20 dB below the RF input. Next, the mixer is connected to the output of the directional coupler. The spectrum analyzer acts as a narrow-band filter and allows observation at the RF input frequency. The RF power reflected back from the mixer is displayed and can be measured by the calibrated scale on the spectrum analyzer.
The VSWR at the IF port is measured in a similar fashion. In this case, the RF port is terminated in 50Ω.
VSWR at the LO port is measured with specified LO power applied (+7 dBm, in the example) via the directional coupler, and both the RF and IF ports are terminated in 50Ω; not shown in Figure 3 (c).
Broadband mixers, it should be noted, exhibit a different VSWR characteristic at different frequencies. Factors causing this include circuit resonances and changes in diode impedances as the LO power level changes. Also of importance is the fact that the input impedances of the various ports are load dependent, even though they are isolated from each other. At high frequencies this effect is more noticeable, because isolation tends to drop as frequency increases.
Two-tone, third-order intermodulation measurements
Two-tone, third-order intermodulation distortion takes place when two incoming signals arrive at the mixer RF port and interact with the conversion-loss non-linearity. See Figure 3 (d). High isolation and low harmonic content in the two RF sources are essential.
For details regarding intermodulation measurement refer to the article, "Improve Two-tone, Third Order Testing".
Browse all RF frequency mixers | example, any LO leakage has no effect on the conversion loss measurement since it does not reach the power meter. If a spectrum analyzer is used instead of the power meter, the filter can be omitted.
Isolation measurements
When measuring LO-RF and LO-IF isolation a pad is placed between the generator and mixer in Figure 3 (b) to ensure a 50Ω-impedance. Also, a 50Ω termination is connected to the IF port when measuring the power at the RF port, and vice versa.
When measuring isolation from RF-to-IF, normal LO | 120 |
Henry Cejudo made good in his second crack at the UFC flyweight title and shocked the world by ending Demetrious Johnson's record reign with a split decision victory Saturday night at UFC 227 in Los Angeles.
The first time Cejudo and<|fim_middle|> first-round knockout of Cody Garbrandt -- Johnson has more than earned his right to a rematch. With the series now even at one fight apiece and the controversial nature of the decision, it is not outside the realm of possibility for Cejudo and Johnson to run the fight back. | Johnson met, in 2016, the 2008 Olympic gold medalist ran into a buzzsaw. Johnson ransacked him with knees and finished him in the first round. Cejudo had to work his way back to another title opportunity -- with victories over Wilson Reis and Sergio Pettis -- while Johnson broke Anderson Silva's record with 11 consecutive title defenses. Johnson had effectively cleaned out the division and talk of him facing an opponent outside of the flyweight division dominated conversations. Not only that, but there was a legitimate argument to be made regarding where Johnson ranked among the greatest mixed martial artists of all-time.
Cejudo wouldn't lie down and allow Johnson to extend his streak Saturday. In fact, their compelling rematch may be recognized as the greatest fight in the division's history with an outcome that will be considered controversial by many.
Johnson's speed and Cejudo's wrestling produced an intense five rounds that were incredibly tough to score, as evidenced by the two 48-47 scorecards for Cejudo and one 48-47 score for Johnson. Ultimately, Cejudo's wrestling made difference as "The Messenger" managed to secure several takedowns.
Johnson often won the battle when the two were standing upright; he utilized his movement and effective striking to keep Cejudo off balance. Cejudo kept his poise, however, and sniffed out opportunities to score takedowns and hold top control. Between the intense scrambles and frantic exchanges, it was difficult to figure out who had the upper hand, but there was no question when Cejudo managed to take down Johnson at key points to slow his momentum.
With the fight hanging in the balance in the final round, Cejudo and Johnson held court in the center of the Octagon and exchanged strikes, but a late takedown by Cejudo likely secured the round and the title.
It was the ultimate redemption for Cejudo as few gave him a chance to put an end to Johnson's dominant run as the inaugural flyweight champion. But it was clearly a different Henry Cejudo who stepped into the Octagon at UFC 227. Rather than be swallowed up by the magnitude of the moment, Cejudo utilized his vaunted wrestling to slow down the lightning-quick Johnson.
"This is a dream come true," Cejudo said afterward. "From Olympic gold medalist to UFC champion. I was born right here in Los Angeles, in a two bedroom apartment so, from the bottom of my heart, thank you to these fans in California for their support. I felt very disrespected all week, with all of the talk of a super fight so I am standing here now to say that I want the winner of the main event."
Although he has his sights set on a showdown with UFC bantamweight champion TJ Dillashaw -- who retained his title in the main event with a | 599 |
federal agencies accused of being in violation of pollution control statutes.
Although primarily a defensive<|fim_middle|> defending the Army Corps of Engineers' regulation of discharges of fill material in connection with activities such as development or mountaintop coal mining; and prosecuting civil enforcement actions under the Clean Water Act that have protected hundreds of thousands of wetland acres and recovered millions of dollars in penalties. | section, EDS also brings enforcement actions against those who fill wetlands in violation of the Clean Water Act.
Examples of the Section's work include: defending EPA's series of regulations adopting the first controls on greenhouse gas emissions under the Clean Air Act, the Agency's national ambient air quality standards for ubiquitous pollutants such as sulfur dioxide and nitrogen dioxide, its ambitious "Cross-State Air Pollution Rule" aimed at attaining air quality standards for ozone and fine particulate matter in the eastern half of the country, and its regulations governing permitting of discharges from factory farms; | 112 |
THE CORAL | Bido Lito!Bido Lito!
Unlike a lot of people born in the UK in the mid-80s, my musical awakening didn't come with Oasis or Radiohead or Massive Attack. I was a late bloomer, so it wasn't really<|fim_middle|> time I heard Dreaming Of You, and watching the quirky video for it on MTV2. It was electrifying to think that a group of ordinary lads from the other end of the train line to me could be capable of landing a Top 10 album and get tonnes of radio play, and do so by just being themselves. With their updated, zany version of the melancholic Scouse charm of The La's, they were the perfect distillation of what was to become defined as the Cosmic Scouser.
Since releasing Butterfly House in 2010 – an LP that the band's late, great champion Alan Wills declared as "their Forever Changes" – The Coral went quiet, as each of the members pursued their own solo endeavours: James Skelly set up a label (Skeleton Key) and released an album as The Intenders; Nick Power wrote and published two books; drummer Ian Skelly released one solo album, and another LP as Serpent Power, where he teamed up with former Zuton Paul Molloy; and guitarist Lee Southall followed Bill Ryder-Jones in making his hiatus from the band permanent to focus on his own solo work, paving the way for Molloy to fill his shoes. This expression of each of the individual's extra-curricular creativity highlights the different strengths and characters at play in the group, giving them many – and varied – points of attack.
Sound City, make sure you bring yours. | until the turn of the millennium that I 'got' the alternative/guitar/indie thing. There was something in the faded glamour of The Strokes and the romantic charm of The Libertines that hooked me, opening up years of musical exploration (backwards and forwards in time) that brought a verve to my late teenage years.
And then came THE CORAL. A troupe of slightly scruffy, slightly scally lads from the more refined half of the Wirral peninsula, they leapt out at me straight away as something relatable and real in a world of increasingly polished and over-commodified BritPop revivalism. I can still remember the first | 134 |
ScoutsTT recently hosted a group of commissioners and leaders from the Inter-American Region for a Train the Trainer level one course. Held at Grace Communion Church in Arima, the course ran from April 4th-9th 2016 and included a total of fifteen participants from St. Vincent, Guyana, Aruba, Curacao, Dominica and Trinidad and Tobago.
The level one training is the first part of the Train the Trainer programme. Its purpose is to equip leaders with the necessary skills to become members of the training teams in their respective NSOs. After becoming trainers, there are further levels of training available to enhance their skills.
The presenters were: Ralf Dillman and Jesus Arenas from the Inter-American Office in Panama, Zaida Joaquin from Guyana, Heinrich Hessen from Aruba, Daniel Corsen from Curacao, and Roger Berkeley and Ron Richardson from Trinidad and Tobago.
Training Design and Evaluation, Adult Learning, and Training Methodologies for Adults were some of the modules presented in sessions which included role plays, presentations, and group discussions. The sessions were interactive and<|fim_middle|>alee, Deputy National Scout Commissioner for Training and Adult Resources who served as the local administrator and coordinator. | allowed the participants, which included a doctor, lawyer, teachers, and Human Resource Manager, to share their professional and Scouting experiences.
This training session was made possible by ScoutsTT's own Vivian Kang | 41 |
Hey there. Right after Christmas, we did an overnighter in Macau to show hubby's aunt and uncle around. There are so many new hotel/casinos cropping up in Macau and it interesting to walk around and explore each one.
I love this photo<|fim_middle|> where you can take a cable car across the man made lake/fountain to the hotel entrance. I decided I wanted a more floral look to for the photos because of the elaborate lamps and fencing around the lake in the photos.
Kaisercraft have some lovely sayings on the branding strip which are great to cut up and use on your layouts. I layered up lots of strip stickers behind the photos as well.
Time to get out the doily and some flowers to scatter around, and another branding strip quote.
I stenciled on some flowers on the background and also used some pinks and greens sprayed around the page.
Macau is only an hour away from Hong Kong by ferry, so it's a quick weekend getaway or even just a day trip destination. | for what look like Renoir paintings. It was just a large poster, but the colours are so gorgeous. I kept the background relatively neutral in colour (light brown) so the colours in the photo can show a bit more.
A pretty simple layout with large flower accents and a few crystal flourishes.
I love this saying and I chose the title as I felt the paintings in the photo has a dreamy quality.
A small cluster of flowers balance out the top left corner of the photo.
These photos were taken out the new Wynn Palace Cotai hotel in Macau, | 116 |
Redefining THE GOLD STANDARD OF SERVICE IN REAL ESTATE SINCE 2001.
"James Hern and the rest of their team went above and beyond for me and I will never forget it. I highly recommend this team of professionals. They treat their customers like family."
"Honest, responsive, customer focused... Just a few of the descriptors<|fim_middle|>.
"It was a pleasure to work with Michael Hern. He not only knows the traditional markets (owner occupied), but he also knows the investment market very well. He helped me and my partners sell our investment properties that we couldn't sell. His outside of the box thinking and market knowledge was critical to the sale of our properties. I would highly recommend the Hern Group for any real estate endeavor that you may have."
"I was thoroughly impressed with the experience I had selling my home. It was a very quick process, the Hern Group handled everything for me and kept me in the loop while doing so. I HIGHLY recommend this group as I will definately use them again in the future. They are awesome experts in the business, know it inside and out, and you can fully rely on them to do the job well. They don't take any short cuts, and they will do whatever necessary to get the job done. I want to personally thank them for making the selling process as painless as possible, I am so glad I didn't go with anyone else. I appreciate all the time and dedication on your part to get the house sold." | I can list with regard to the Hern team. They get results and they are there to serve you as the customer. You will not be disappointed if you list with them."
"Travis Moore is the best realtor! He balances professionalism with a personal touch. Travis advocated for us as sellers and buyers in the process of relocating. The Hern Group has so many resources and professionals working for them, I recommend them to anyone searching for representation in the real estate market."
"The Hern Group was recommended to me by a neighbor that recently sold their house in my subdivision. I came to the Hern Group as a bitter and frustrated seller, after having my house on the market for almost a year, receiving low offers, and a broken contract. Michael and Carrie were very patient with me, answered my questions, and rectified my concerns with the process. I would highly recommend these realtors!"
"I can't say enough about the Hern Group...they were the best realtors I have ever used! Their service was excellent and they know how to take care of their costumers. Best of luck and I will definitely come see you guys again when I'm ready for a new home."
I found the Hern group from a referral from Dave Ramsey. Yes, the Dave Ramsey radio show host. I interviewed them along with two other realtors in the spring of 2016. We were fixing to sell our house then but life happened and we were going to wait. They were very kind in not pushing us to sell right away but kept in quarterly contact with us. We finally made the decision to sell when my job transfer went through and Michael Hern listed our house on a Wednesday and we had a bidding war and had it sold by Friday morning. They were very professional and their administrative assistant, kerri, was as professional and full of answers for us when Michael was not available. Thank you so much for a smooth transition and a fast sell on our house in Grandview, MO | 398 |
New futsal facility coming in Topeka (Kansas, USA)
Courtesy: The Topeka Capital-Journal
Shawnee County to turn tennis courts into first 'Futsal' outdoor soccer court
by Tim Hrenchir
The need for an outdoor soccer court at southeast Topeka's Hillcrest Park became apparent when people started playing soccer on the tennis courts there, Shawnee County parks and recreation director John Knight said Thursday.
County Commissioners Kevin Cook, Shelly Buhler and Bob Archer voted 3-0 that morning to approve expenditures totaling more than $340,0<|fim_middle|>man in southwest Shawnee County. Archer responded that "no business case" had been made at this point to effectively justify the county's acquiring it.
Posted by Luca Ranocchiari --> luca.ranocchiari@futsalplanet.com
Send this news to a friend:
Your Name: Friend's Mail: Send!
For more details visit also:
http://www.cjonline.com | 00 for parks and recreation projects, including putting in what will be the first "futsal" sport court in Shawnee County.
That court will replace the tennis courts at Hillcrest Park, 1800 S.E. 21st. Futsal is a modified form of soccer played on a hard surface.
Thursday's votes came after commissioners on April 19 earmarked $3 million in excess reserve funds to address deferred maintenance needs in parks and recreation.
Commissioners voted unanimously Thursday to:
• Enter into a contract through which the county will pay $58,200 to Sport Court Kansas City Inc., to repair the surface and replace the two former tennis courts with an "outdoor futsal sport court" at Hillcrest Park, where the two basketball courts will remain.
• Enter into a contract through which the county will pay $30,000 to Kansas Fencing Inc., to remove and replace fencing surrounding the two former tennis courts at Hillcrest Park. One of those appeared Thursday to now have basketball court markings.
• Approve five budgets totaling more than $252,000 to carry out projects to make various improvements at Rueger Softball Complex, Blaisdell Family Aquatic Center, Dornwood Park, Hillcrest Park and Shunga Glen Park and Trail.
Knight shared figures with commissioners Thursday showing this community's east side has been receiving considerable parks and recreation investment. Buhler and Cook responded by asking him to talk about improvements for the entire community instead of focusing on one geographic area.
Archer later said he had personally asked Knight to discuss parks and recreation project project funding by geographic area, and "didn't realize it would be so controversial." He said he thought the county should balance its parks and recreation investments geographically.
In other business, commissioners:
• Voted 3-0 to enter into a contract through which the county will pay $229,027.06 to Klaver Construction Inc., to replace a culvert over an unnamed tributary of Halfday Creek on Button Road, one-quarter mile north of N.W. 46th Street.
• Voted 3-0 to acknowledge they had received a contract Sheriff Herman Jones signed renewing an arrangement through which his office will pay $38,857 to CBS Manhattan LLC, to provide maintenance for one year for building security-related equipment his office maintains. After commissioners initially considered approving the contract and Buhler voiced concerns about it, county counselor Jim Crowl told commissioners Jones didn't need their approval to enter into it. Commissioners then voted to instead acknowledge they'd received the contract.
• Received a 25-page report prepared by Shawnee County Parks and Recreation Advisory/Advocacy Board members Joseph Ledbetter and Terri Roberts advocating the county's acquisition of the former Camp Daisy Hind | 583 |
The adidas Ultra Boost X Shoes are neutral, cushioning running shoes. Great energy return in an adaptive fit.
Featuring boost cushioning, the adidas Ultra Boost X pack in exceptional comfort and high energy return that you feel as you<|fim_middle|> of getting used to. But now I've had them I wouldn't switch back to other brands as they are so light. | move through from heel strike to toe off. The Primeknit upper is provides a sock like fit that is lightweight, breathable and adapts to your foot, throughout the gait cycle.
The dynamic wraparound high arch design and the dual density 3D heel counter provide a targetted support, stability and helps provide optimal movement. While the Continental rubber outsole gives you grip on a multitude of surfaces both wet and dry.
adidas Women's UltraBoost X is rated 4.0 out of 5 by 2.
Rated 4 out of 5 by PaulE92 from Great pair of shoes and comfy really comfy shoes, true to size and the best price compared to other sites. They feel very different to other road shoes, which takes a bit | 155 |
HEAVEN'S
my
DESTINATION
THORNTON WILDER
Epigraph
George Brush is my name;
America's my nation;
Ludington's my dwelling-place
And Heaven's my destination.
(Doggerel verse which children of
the Middle West were accustomed
to write in their schoolbooks)
Of all the forms of genius,
goodness has the longest awkward age.
—THE WOMAN OF ANDROS
Contents
Epigraph
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by Thornton Wilder
Copyright
About the Publisher
Foreword
When Sigmund Freud first read Heaven's My Destination, he threw the book across the room. Wilder had visited Freud at his villa outside Vienna in the fall of 1935 and had given him a copy of the novel, which had been published earlier that year. Freud would have none of it. "I come from an unbroken line of infidel Jews," the doctor explained; as a boy he had been lectured at by his father that "there is no way that we could know there was a God; that it didn't do any good to trouble one's head about such; but to live and do one's duty among one's fellow men." But what had actually annoyed Freud about the book was, he said, the fun it made of religion. "Why should you treat of an American fanatic?" the old doctor asked. "That cannot be treated poetically."
Or so Wilder records the meeting in his journal. Of course, Freud wasn't the only reader to have been upset. Some thought it filled with an austere religious fervor, others thought it a broad satire of American Protestantism. Wilder himself, speaking with an interviewer many years later, recalled some of the public reaction to his hero, George Brush:
George, the hero of a novel of mine which I wrote when I was nearly forty, is an earnest, humorless, moralizing, preachifying, interfering product of Bible-belt evangelism. I received many letters from writers of the George Brush mentality angrily denouncing me for making fun of sacred things, and a letter from the Mother Superior of a convent in Ohio saying that she regarded the book as an allegory of the stages in the spiritual life.
In fact, the book's first reviewers were puzzled because it could be read either way, because Wilder seemed such a dispassionate narrator, because the moral scales weren't tipped to one side or the other. Again, Wilder explained that Heaven's My Destination
was written as objectively as it could be done and the result has been that people tell me that it has meant to them things as diverse as a Pilgrim's Progress of the religious life and an extreme sneering at sacred things, a portrait of a saint on the one hand and a ridiculous fool jeered at by the author on the other. For a while I felt that I had erred and that it was an artistic mistake to expose oneself to such misinterpretations. But more and more in harmony with the doctrine that the writer during the work should not hear in a second level of consciousness the possible comments of audiences, I feel that for good or for ill you should talk to yourself in your own private language and be willing to sink or swim on the hope that your private language has nevertheless sufficient correspondence with that of persons of some reading and some experience.
From the very beginning of his career, Wilder had been speaking his own "private language," however it may have been schooled by the example of older stylistic masters. The baroque suavities of The Cabala, the vividly poised moralizing of The Bridge of San Luis Rey, the chaste decorum of The Woman of Andros, had all earned for their author a reputation as a writer of chiseled refinement. And because each novel was so different from what had preceded it, the range of his imagination was also lavishly praised. Early and easy success, however, invariably pushes one's detractors front and center, and in 1930 Wilder was confronted by an especially vicious attack on both his achievement and his sensibility. Writing in The New Republic, critic Michael Gold ignited a controversy that we must believe singed Wilder and without a doubt inflamed the magazine's letters column for weeks to come. Gold, whose ardent Communist views made Wilder the convenient embodiment of "a small sophisticated class that has recently risen in America—our genteel bourgeoisie," dismissed the novels as "chambermaid literature" and accused Wilder's writing of "the shallow clarity and tight little good taste that remind one of nothing so much as the conversation and practice of a veteran cocotte." It was a vulgar, snide, tendentious piece, and it went on to hammer at Wilder's lack of "nativism." Why had he taken refuge in a "rootless cosmopolitanism"? Italy, Peru, Greece—remote cultures and effete characters—glossy high finish and etiolated aristocratic emotions. Why, in other words, wasn't Wilder a Tolstoy, or at least a Sinclair Lewis? Instead, his serenity is that of a corpse: "Prick it, and it will bleed violet ink and apéritif." Why won't Wilder plunge into the burly realities of American life, the world of stockbroker suicides and labor racketeers, steel mills and back streets, prairies and mesas? "Let Mr. Wilder write a book about modern America," Gold concluded. "We predict it will reveal all his fundamental silliness and superficiality."
Despite the fact his defenders rushed into print, Wilder—who never publically commented on Gold's attack—was said privately to be hurt. Though I doubt Gold's article was a direct cause, it may have started a train of thought, one that gathered considerable baggage in the years directly following, when Wilder had moved on to a lively part-time teaching base at the University of Chicago and was also crisscrossing the country on the lecture circuit. He hadn't written about America before because, as he once explained, "I didn't know enough about it." He had plucked his characters from books. Now he learned firsthand the scenery and sounds of America and was ready to take advantage of them. In any case, his very next novel was distinctly "American." It set itself down in the Mississippi Valley and points west during the Depression, offered an array of social types, analyzed their living conditions and legal system, and probed both the country's beliefs and its true religion, business. It was enough to warm any Marxist's heart. In a letter to John Dos Passos, Edmund Wilson wrote: "Thornton Wilder has taken up the challenge flung down by Mike Gold and written the best book of his life. I wish you would overcome your prejudice against him and read it."
It would be inaccurate to claim that Wilder had deliberately remade himself as a novelist—had, as it were, gone native. (Though Our Town arrives just three years later.) The settings and characters of Heaven's My Destination bear subtle affinities with Wilder's fiction, both earlier and later. And its hero, George Brush, shares the ardent loneliness of all of Wilder's protagonists. But it is fair to say that Wilder did turn from the exquisite cadences and lambent, layered textures of his first three novels. His style here is drier, flatter, jumpier. It's the effort to create an "American speech" for his book, to give its narrative the clipped, moral tone of its cast and culture. It's what might be called a Grant Wood style. Of course Wilder was not writing a satire, though he's content to skewer pretensions and injustices. Instead, he'd set out to write a comedy, and he needed a light touch to capture the incongruities of American life, at once innocent and egotistical. It is a comedy in the highest sense, and moves easily from hayseed farce to superstitious magic (Father Pasziewski's spoon) to moral argument (the concluding courtroom scene is the book's masterstroke).
It's said there are only two stories, two basic situations which all novels weave variations on. In one, our hero leaves home and is beset by adventures. In the other, a stranger comes to town and occasions adventures. Heaven's My Destination combines the two patterns. Its premise is an old joke—did you hear the one about the traveling salesman and the farmer's daughter?—and its plot has put readers in mind of the perilous progress of Bunyan's Christian pilgrim or of the chivalric quest of Cervantes' Don Quixote. It's clear from his own testimony that, indeed, Wilder had such figures in the back of his mind as he worked. Candide or Tom Jones, Pip or Stephen Dedalus—literature abounds in innocents and their "education." The hero of Wilder's novel, George Brush, seems a familiar enough figure. (His name too is familiar, and calls up the once ubiquitous door-to-door Fuller Brush man, as well as a more recent teetotaling, fundamentalist president.) In the movies he might have been played by Tom Hanks or James Stewart—or even, as Wilder apparently hoped, Gary Cooper. But, though we know he was born in Michigan and graduated from Shiloh Baptist College in South Dakota, he still seems a mysterious presence, and that's because Wilder intended to portray a saint—the sort of person who is always more than a little unworldly. He appears and disappears faster than mortals ought. "I'm the happiest man I've ever met," he boasts while assuming the sorrows of others. Even saints have to live in the world, however, and the novel's epigraph, taken from The Woman of Andros, tells us about the narrative shape of this book: "Of all forms of genius, goodness has the longest awkward age." As he brushes up against the world, with its whorehouses and seedy hotels, its newspapermen and thieves, he does not learn the ways of the world, the world learns his ways. Still, battered and defeated, as unloved and lonely at the end of the novel as he was at its start, exactly a year earlier, he changes less in his own eyes than in ours. We witness his awkward age with an amazement that tempers to pity. "I may be cuckoo," he says at the end, in a way that any reader may both admire and deplore, "perhaps I am: but I'd rather be crazy all alone than be sensible like you fellows are sensible. I'm glad I'm nuts. I don't want to be different. Tell the fellows I'll never change—." The only thing to do with Gandhi—George's own particular patron saint—is to follow him or shoot him. All saints are first fallen men, and the women men fall for have a lot to answer for. George was converted by a drug-addled sixteen-year-old tent evangelist named Marian Truby, and his one roll in the hay loft with Roberta Weyerhauser drove him to seek and marry her—with disastrous results. He is drawn to these women, and to older matronly women as well, like Queenie and Mrs. Crofut, because he longs for love. His head is filled with ideas, his heart is empty. He wants "an American home," a Norman Rockwell family image, but saints aren't allowed wives and kids. Instead, as George says, and it is a mean substitute, "I have the truth."
Heaven's My Destination was written in the midst of the Great Depression, a time when all Americans were called on to redefine themselves. The national upheaval was a time of private soul-searching as well as of government programs. It was Wilder's genius to have made George's idealism seem like a solution that solves nothing. So cannily has Wilder drawn his portrait that his picaresque hero, in adventure after adventure, erodes the very sympathy he builds in us. George is annoying in part because we live—now as then—in a culture of Meddlers and Experts, a culture of tireless self-improvement, in which, from television spot or bumper sticker, we are constantly urged to get right with God, lose fifty pounds, quit smoking, discover the ultimate stain remover, and accept Jesus as our personal savior. No one wants to be goaded into goodness or exasperated to salvation. Above all, we loathe logic, and George Brush is not a romantic but a logician. Creatures of satisfying habits, we resent change, resent thinking about our comforts; we prefer the bromides and slogans, the sheer unselfconsciousness of animal life. "You'll learn in time," George is told. "I guess you'll find your place in time, see? Only don't come around us any more. We got our own ideas and our own lives all arranged, see? and we don't like to be interrupted."
But George is also annoying because he is a saint. "Isn't the principle of a thing more important than the people that live under the principle?" he asks, and wonders why his marriage collapses. "It's not important if Roberta and I are different, as she calls it. It's not important if we don't get on like some couples do. We're married, and it's for the good of society and morals that we stay together until we die." This is his devastating innocence. It causes him to despair, and only a miracle can save him. The brilliance of Wilder's technique in this novel is to reenact in the reader the same drama that the characters who encounter George face. We are asked to think, to see the light—and then watch the realistic shadows fall.
Wilder's brother Amos, in his 1980 book Thornton Wilder and His Public, tried to trace the lineage of George Brush, and he put it most accurately when he noted that Brush's ancestor is less a specific literary character than a mythological type: "the American Adam." This is a figure central both to our literature and to our imaginings of ourselves. Thoreau and Whitman, Hemingway and Fitzgerald—our writers have tried continually to embody this innocent, vital ideal. Wilder was fond of Thoreau, whose own annoyingly soulful self-righteousness could have been a model for Brush's. But in fact, it was Emerson (who couldn't see the poison snake in the grass, in Wilder's skeptical reckoning) who, in his clarion 1837 oration "The American Scholar," most notably defined the American Adam, whom he calls "the scholar":
The office of the scholar is to cheer, to raise, and to guide men by showing them facts amidst appearances. . . . He must accept . . . the state of virtual hostility in which he seems to stand to society, and especially to educated society. For all this loss and scorn, what offset? He is to find consolation in exercising the highest function of human nature. He is one, who raises himself from private considerations, and breathes and lives on public and illustrious thought. . . . Whatsoever oracles the human heart, in all emergencies, in all solemn hours, has uttered as its commentary on the world of actions—these he shall receive and impart. And whatsoever new verdict Reason from her inviolable seat pronounces on the passing men and events of to-day,—this he shall hear and promulgate.
This moves to the heart of what has been called the American Religion as both our greatest prophet, Emerson, and our subtlest analyst, William James, have seen it. George Brush is less a Baptist than a believer in this hybrid religion that doesn't much resemble historical Christianity. The Christian asks, "Who will save me?" The American asks, "What will make me free?" And because the American strives for individuality and the pragmatism of feelings and experiences (rather than desires and memories), he lives as a solitary, his inner loneliness at home in an outer loneliness of wilderness or urban enormity. Salvation for the American comes not through the congregation or community but is a singular confrontation, an exclusive reliance on the empowered self. The American is known not by his pious submission but by his radical innocence. Here again is Emerson, with his scholar:
In silence, in steadiness, in severe abstraction, let him hold by himself; add observation to observation, patient of neglect, patient of reproach; and bide his own time—happy enough, if he can satisfy himself alone, that this day he has seen something truly. Success treads on every right step. For the instinct is sure, that prompts him to tell his brother what he thinks. He then learns, that in going down into the secrets of his own mind, he has descended into the secrets of all minds.
In 1930, two years before he started working on Heaven's My Destination, Wilder wrote to a friend about his earlier three novels, and saw in them a common theme. "It seems to me that my books are about: What is the worst thing that the world can do to you, and what are the last resources one has to oppose to it?" The best of those novels, The Bridge of San Luis Rey, asked whether "the intuitions that lie behind love are enough to justify the desperation of living." There is, finally, a shimmering ambivalence in Wilder's answer. In Heaven's My Destination he asks if the honest man's pursuit of truth is enough to sustain him in a deceitful world. I'm not entirely convinced Wilder could answer his own question, and neither was he. The ending of the novel seems rushed, substituting a crisis for a conclusion. Wilder admitted as much, both in his journal and in letters to friends. "Sure, I made a lot of mistakes," he wrote to one. "As you say, at the close especially." Twenty years later, he blamed it on a sense of "procrastination, the inability to call my wits together for a deep concentration" that forced him to rush toward the last page.
He was being too harsh on himself. It may be that, though the plot conforms to its circular mythic pattern, Wilder had so identified with Brush that he couldn't in the end see the emotional ramification of his protagonist's decisions. Asked by an interviewer if, as a young man, he resembled George Brush, Wilder answered:
Very much so. I came from a very strict Calvinistic father, was brought up partly among the missionaries of China, and went to that splendid college at Oberlin at a time when the classrooms and student life carried a good deal of the pious didacticism which would now be called narrow Protestantism. And that book is, as it were, an effort to come to terms with those influences. The comic spirit is given to us in order that we may analyze, weigh, and clarify things in us which nettle us, or which we are outgrowing, or trying to escape. That is a very autobiographical book.
All of Wilder's novels, of course, are at some level "autobiographical." In this one, surely, there was a side to his own personality that Wilder projected onto Brush. He was not unaware of the overanimated intellectuality of his own social manner or of a certain emotional naïveté. In 1933, he wrote mockingly to a friend, "What a good parson I would have been. How diligent, and how I would have loved it. How anxiously I would have watched them gather; and how concerned I'd have been, visiting them in their homes. It would have played squarely into all my faults." And behind his own manner were large shadows—above all, his father's. Amos Parker Wilder was the embodiment of the zealous, interfering, righteous, moralizing Calvinist ethic. A letter to his children would say, for instance, that "the kingdom of Heaven is to be brought to earth, the bad fiends yielding—then it fills a youth with ardent aspirations to be in the midst of the fight—to give his fellow man the best that is in him. He knows that when he is right he is on sure ground—that the right must conquer." Wilder, instinctively drawn to his mother's softer, more cultivated and literary character, nonetheless inherited some of his father's driven energies. The difference between them is that the son had a sense of irony. Late in his life, Wilder wrote to his oldest friend, Robert Maynard Hutchins, of his father's "all too freighted unshakeable obtuseness."
The inward gaze alerts us to nuances of characterization, but to dwell exclusively on George Brush would be to miss most of the comic brio of this novel's storytelling as well as its astute realism. If John Steinbeck's mighty Grapes of Wrath is the tragic novel of the Great Depression, then Heaven's My Destination is its comic masterpiece. This was the era of "failing banks, falling businessmen," and the touching scene of Brush's Camp Morgan encounter with Dick Roberts, the suicidal real estate man, has an eerie edge. This was the era of an imploding economy and desperate measures, and Brush's lectures to the bank president or the stickup man about his ingenious moral ideas have a still astonishing (because still right, still untried) poignancy to them. This was the era of crushing poverty and odd bedfellows, and Wilder's description of Queenie Craven's derelict boarding-house in Kansas City is wonderfully evocative:
a high, narrow, blackened edifice, standing amid the similarly blackened hulks of former mansions . . . its broken windows patched with newspaper, its yard full of weeds and overturned bath-tubs, against the last invasion of negro gamblers, cats and the night quartering of tramps. Queenie's back windows overlooked a cliff strewn with bottles and automobile tires descending to a waste of railroad tracks and the sluggish soot-covered river.
This was the era too of Gandhi's call to passive resistance, and his presence in the novel—along with Tolstoy's—is an unlikely counter. But there is a side of George Brush's crusade that has all the activism of the best of the New Deal. He wouldn't think of cheating on his expense account, thinks everyone should be burdened equally by the Depression, has advanced views on child rearing and capital punishment, and in Louisiana once rode in a Jim Crow railroad car because he believes in the equality of the races.
But today we read Heaven's My Destination less for its anatomy of an era than for its brilliant storytelling. There are countless cameo roles to appreciate—blowsy Margie McCoy, the gaggle of giggling prostitutes at the cinema, or little Rhoda May with the placard (i am a liar) around her neck—each composed of small details with large implications. The opening scenario is ingenious. The narrative pace is exhilarating. And the big set pieces are ideally situated. The Molière in Wilder has a fine nose for hypocrisy and cant. The Marxist in Wilder (Groucho, not Karl) has a sure sense of comic timing, as when his friends get our hero drunk. Throughout the novel advanced ideas are dealt with nostalgically, and that's because, as Wilder wrote in a letter, the novel is about "all of us when young; you're not supposed to notice the humor—you're supposed to look through it at a fella who not only had the impulse to think out an ethic and plan a life—but actually does it." So what are we laughing at? The fella who does it? Or ourselves when young and filled with ambitions? The best comedies bring us smack against a contrary world and implicate both their cast of smart fools and our own tangled hearts. Heaven's My Destination, Wilder's funniest novel, is a comedy of American manners, a pageant of absurdities and miracles, logic and belly laughs, a truly sophisticated, at times even unsettling, corn-belt classic.
—J. D. McClatchy
Stonington, Connecticut
Chapter 1
George Brush tries to save some souls in Texas and Oklahoma. Doremus Blodgett and Margie McCoy. Thoughts on arriving at the age of twenty-three. Brush draws his savings from the bank. His criminal record: Incarceration No. 2.
One morning in the late summer of 1930 the proprietor and several guests at the Union Hotel at Crestcrego, Texas, were annoyed to discover Biblical texts freshly written across the blotter on the public writing-desk. Two days later the guests at McCarty's Inn, Usquepaw, in the same state, were similarly irritated, and the manager of the Gem Theater nearby was surprised to discover that a poster at his door had been defaced and trampled upon. The same evening a young man passing the First Baptist Church, and seeing that the Annual Bible Question Bee was in progress, paid his fifteen cents and, taking his place against the wall, won the first prize, his particular triumph being the genealogical tables of King David. The next night, several passengers on the Pullman car "Quarritch," leaving Fort Worth, were startled to discover a young man in pajamas kneeling and saying his prayers before his berth. His concentration was not shaken when he was struck sharply on the shoulder by flying copies of the Western Magazine and Screen Features. The next morning a young lady who had retired to the platform of the car to enjoy a meditative cigarette after breakfast, returned to her seat to discover that a business card had been inserted into the corner of the window pane. It read:
George Marvin Brush, Representing the Caulkins Educational Press. New York, Boston, and Chicago. Publishers of Caulkins' Arithmetics and Algebras, and other superior textbooks for school and college. Across the top of the card the following words had been neatly added in pencil: Women who smoke are unfit to be mothers. The young lady reddened slightly, tore the card into flakes and pretended to go to sleep. After a few moments she sat up and, assuming an expression of weary scorn, looked about the car. None of the passengers seemed capable of such a message, least of all a tall, solidly built young man whose eyes, nevertheless, were gravely resting on her.
This young man, feeling that he had made his point, picked up his briefcase and went forward to the smoking-car. There almost every seat was filled. The day was already hot and the smokers, having discarded coat and collar, lay sprawled about in the blue haze. Several card games were in progress, and in one corner an excitable young man was singing an interminable ballad, alternately snapping his fingers and stamping his heel to mark the beat. An admiring group was gathered about him, supplying the refrain. Congeniality already reigned in the car and remarks were being shouted from one end of it to the other. Brush looked about him appraisingly, and chose a seat beside a tall leather-faced man in shirt sleeves.
"Sit down, buddy," said the man. "You're rocking the car. Sit down and lend me a match."
"My name is George Brush," said the younger man, seizing the other's hand and looking him squarely and a little glassily in the eye. "I'm glad to meet you. I travel in school books. I was born in Michigan and I'm on my way to Wellington, Oklahoma."
"That's fine," said the other. "That's fine, only relax, sonny, relax. Nobody's arrested you."
Brush flushed slightly and said, with a touch of heaviness, "In beginning a conversation I like to get all the facts on the table."
"What did I tell you, buddy?" said the other, turning a cold and curious eye on him. "Relax. Light up."
"I don't smoke," said Brush.
The conversation did the rounds of the weather, the crops, politics, and the business situation. At last Brush said:
"Brother, can I talk to you about the most important thing in life?"
The man slowly stretched out his full lazy length on the reversed seat before him and drew his hand astutely down his long yellow face. "If it's insurance, I got too much," he said. "If it's oil wells, I don't touch 'em, and if it's religion, I'm saved."
Brush had an answer even for this. He had taken a course in college entitled "How to approach strangers on the subject of Salvation"—and two and a half credits—generally followed the next semester by "Arguments in Sacred Debate"—one and a half credits. This course had listed the openings in such an encounter as this and the probable responses. One of the responses was this, that the stranger declared himself already saved. This statement might be either (1) true, or (2) untrue. In either case the evangelist's next move was to say, with Brush:
"That's fine. There is no greater pleasure than to talk over the big things with a believer."
"I'm saved," continued the other, "from making a goddam fool of myself in public places. I'm saved, you little peahen, from putting my head into other people's business. So shut your damn face and get out of here, or I'll rip your tongue out of your throat."
This attitude had also been foreseen by the strategists. "You're angry, brother," said Brush, "because you're aware of an unfulfilled life."
"Now listen," said the other, solemnly. "Now listen to what I'm saying to you. I warn you. One more peep of that stuff and I'll do something you'll be sorry for. Now wait a minute! Don't say I didn't warn you: one more peep—"
"I won't trouble you, brother," said Brush. "But if I stop, don't think it's because I'm afraid of anything you'd do."
"What did I tell you," said the man, quietly. He leaned over, and picking up the briefcase that was lying between Brush's feet, he threw it out of the window. "Go and get it, fella, and after this learn to pick your man."
Brush rose. He was smiling stiffly. "Brother," he said, "it's lucky for you I'm a pacifist. I could knock you against the roof of this car. I could swing you around here by one leg. Brother, I'm the strongest man that was ever tested in our gym back at college. But I won't touch you. You're rotted out with liquor and cigarettes."
"Haw-haw-haw!" replied the man.
"It's lucky for you I'm a pacifist," repeated Brush, mechanically, staring at the man's eyes, the yellow strings of his throat, and the blue stain his collar button had left.
By now the whole car was interested. The leather-faced man threw his arm over the back of the seat and included his neighbors in his pleasure. "He's nuts," he said.
Voices in the car began to rise in a threatening tide: "Get the hell out of here." . . . "Put him out."
Brush shouted into the man's face: "You're full of poisons—Anybody can see that. You're dying. Why don't you think about it?"
"Haw-haw-haw!" said the man.
The noise in the car rose to a roar. Brush went down the aisle and entered the toilet. He was trembling. He put his hand on the wall and laid his forehead against it. He thought he was going to throw up. He muttered over and over again, "He's rotten with liquor and cigarettes." He gargled a mouthful of cold water. When his breathing had become regular again, he returned to the car "Quarritch." He walked with lowered eyes and, sitting down, he held his head in his hands and stared at the floor. "I shouldn't hate anybody," he said.
The train reached Wellington an hour later. Brush went to the hotel, engaged an automobile, and retrieved the briefcase. He spent the day calling on the department heads in the high school. On coming out of the dining-room after dinner he went to the writing-desk, printed a Bible text neatly on the blotter, and went early to bed.
The next morning brought his twenty-third birthday. He rose early and started to leave the hotel for a walk before breakfast. In one hand he held a rough draft of his resolutions for the year, along with a list of his virtues and faults. As he passed through the lobby he noticed that a fresh blotter had been placed on the writing-desk. He went up to it, took out his fountain pen, and stood a moment irresolute. Then without sitting down he printed across the top the words, "Thou, Lord, seest me."
A negro who was crouched on the floor, polishing spitoons, raised his eyes slowly and said, with guarded animosity: "You'd better not write on that blotter. Mr. Gibbs is awful mad about that. He's had to change it once already and he's awful mad."
"Does it do any harm to anybody?" asked Brush, calmly, returning the pen to his pocket.
"The folks don't like it. Mr. Blodgett, who's stayin' here, 's all roused up."
"Well, tell Mr. Blodgett to speak to me about it. I'd like to meet him," replied Brush, crossing to the water-cooler and starting to draw himself a drink of water. At that moment the manager of the hotel came down the stairs, followed by a man and a woman. The man was short and fat; he had a round red face and a pair of mobile black bushy eyebrows. He crossed the room to the writing-desk and picked out a piece of stationery.
"Look't this!" he cried, suddenly, pointing at the blotter. "Look't this! Now that's the second time. God! it gives me a pain."
"You can't stop'm, Mr. Blodgett," said the manager, sadly. "Why, last year, there was a fellow—"
"Well, I'd like to meet one. I'd like to tell'm what I think."
The manager whispered a few words to Blodgett and indicated Brush with his thumb.
Blodgett whistled. "You don't say!" he said.
The woman interposed loudly: "Now Reme, you're always picking up some crazy galoot or other. You'll get into trouble one of these days. Come in to breakfast and let'm be."
"Well, sister, you gotta have some fun when you're on the road, don't you?" said Blodgett. "This is a chance. Watch me now."
As Brush started to go to the street Blodgett put out his hand. "Say, buddy," he said, quietly, one eyebrow subtly raised, "where are you holding meetings?"
"I'm not holding any meetings," replied Brush, seizing his hand and looking dynamically into his eyes. "I think your name is Blodgett. Mine is George Brush. George Marvin Brush. I travel in textbooks. Glad to know you, Mr. Blodgett."
"Yes, sir, every time," said Blodgett. "Doremus Blodgett, Everlast Hosiery. So you travel, do you?"
"Yes."
"Well then, what's the idea of writing all over these blotters? You're young and healthy. See what I mean?"
"I'm glad to talk about it," said Brush.
"That's the way. Now look here, Brush. I'm glad to see you're a reasonable fella. We were afraid you were going to be one of these faynatics. See what I mean? Brush, I want you to meet the finest little girl in the world, my cousin, Mrs. Margie McCoy."
"Glad to know you," said Brush.
Mrs. McCoy had a large puffy face heavily covered with powder. It was surmounted by a fine head of orange, brown, and black hair. She did not acknowledge the introduction.
"Fella to fella," continued Blodgett, "What's the idea of writing over all these blotters, eh? I don't say it isn't all right for preachers. They get paid for it."
"Mr. Blodgett, I've found a good thing and I want to tell everybody about it."
"Let'm be, Reme. Let'm be," said Mrs. McCoy, beckoning her cousin toward the dining-room door with jerks of her head and the movements of her sullen eyes.
"Well, I don't like it," continued her cousin, suddenly belligerent.
"If you don't like it," continued Brush, "that's because you're aware of an unfulfilled life."
Blodgett began to shout. "That's the trouble with you stinking reformers, you think everybody——"
Here Margie McCoy flung herself between them: "Have some breakfast first, for Gawd's sake! Now stop it! Stop it, I say! You're always trying to get into a fight. Besides, the doctor told you you gotta keep calm."
"I don't fight, Mrs. McCoy," said Brush. "Let him say what he wants to say."
Blodgett began again in a calmer tone. "I don't say it isn't all right for preachers, but what gripes me is when some . . . Goddam it! everything has its place."
"Aw, come on and get some cawfee," said Mrs. McCoy, adding, under her breath: "He's just a nut. Let'm be."
"Say, why aren't you a preacher, anyway? Why aren't you in a church, where you belong?"
"There's a reason for that," replied Brush, staring fixedly at the wall behind Blodgett.
"Couldn't you get enough money?"
"No, that wasn't the trouble. . . . I had a very personal reason."
"Stop right there!" cried Blodgett. "I don't want to hear anything that's not my business. All I say is that it looks to me like you had a still more personal reason for going in."
Brush stared at him somberly. "I'm not afraid to tell," he said. "I did something . . . I did something that a minister can't do."
"Oh, I see!" said Blodgett, out of his depths. "Well . . . of course, that makes a difference."
"What did he say?" asked Mrs. McCoy.
"He said . . . he did something that a minister can't do." Then turning to Brush, Blodgett took on a conspiratorial air; lowering his voice, he inquired, "What was it?"
"I wouldn't like to tell that with a lady here," said Brush.
Blodgett raised his eyebrows and whistled compassionately: "Ain't that terrible! There's a woman in it, eh?"
"Yes."
"Tchk-tchk-tchk! You know you ought to marry the poor girl."
Brush looked at him sharply. "Of course I want to marry her. Only I can't find her."
"I gotta get out of here," cried Margie McCoy, abruptly. "I'm going cuckoo. Let'm be, Reme. He's crazy. He's nuts," and she hurried into the dining-room.
Blodgett's manner took on the hushed and prudent manner he would have assumed had Brush informed him that he was talking to Napoleon. "Say, ain't that terrible! How did it happen?"
"I'd rather not talk about it," said Brush.
Blodgett asked some questions about the road and about business conditions in Texas. Then he said: "How about coming up to the room tonight, eh?—little talk?"
"I'd like to, but I'm leaving this morning for Oklahoma City."
"What? We'll be there tomorrow. Where do you put up, boy?"
It seemed that they both planned to stay at the McGraw House and a meeting was planned for the following evening. "Good! About eight, see? Come up to the room and have a little drink."
"I don't drink, but I'd like a little talk."
"Oh, you don't drink?"
"No."
"Sure, I realize it's against the law," said Blodgett, generously.
"It undermines the nervous system and impairs the efficiency," added Brush.
"Damn it, you're right. You're right. I'm going to stop it one of these days. You never said a truer word. But you won't mind if the little lady and I have something while you're there?"
"No."
Mrs. McCoy appeared at the door. "Reme, you come here," she cried. "Come here. He might shoot or something."
"Marge, what do you mean, shoot. He's all right. He's a fine fella." He slapped Brush on the back, then lowering his voice, added, confidentially: "No ill-feelings, see? The little girl's always that way when you first know her."
Blodgett winked intimately and followed his cousin in to breakfast.
Brush left the hotel and walked down the street in the shade of the cottonwood trees. He listened enviously to the domestic sounds that came from the houses to his right and his left. Housewives were shaking rugs out of windows or shifting saucepans upon a stove. Children were heard calling in shrill voices, every sentence beginning and ending with a querulous "Ma." A few men had taken advantage of the early coolness and were cutting the lawn; others were flinging open the doors of their garages and casting a first reassuring glance at their car. At the edge of town Brush left the road and followed a path through some deep grass; passing some rubbish-heaps and a deserted sawmill he came upon a clear stream that, flowing rapidly, seemed to carry a load of tangled weeds towards a pond. He lay down beside the pond, face downward, and gazed at the scene. Two water snakes glided by, weaving in and out of each other's shadow. In the middle of the pond a turtle, with two small turtles on her back, climbed out upon a rotting plank. More turtles followed and, settling themselves squarely, drew their heads partly into their shells and closed their eyes. The very bird calls announced a hot day.
Brush had come out to think. This was his twenty-third birthday, and birthdays were solemn occasions for him. Two years before he had risen up from a swinging hammock on his father's porch, had crossed the town of Ludington, Michigan, and proposed marriage to a widow ten years older than himself. He had been refused, but he never forgot the exhilaration of having done it, nor the look in her eyes as she stood drying her hands on her apron, while her children crawled about on the floor, untying his shoestrings. One year before he had spent the evening in the Public Library at Abilene, Texas, reading the life of Napoleon in the Encyclopædia Britannica. When he finished he had taken a pencil from his pocket and written in the margin, "I am a great man, too, but for good," and had signed his initials. The perspiration had stood out on his forehead.
And now before the pool near Wellington, Oklahoma, he prepared to examine himself on his twenty-third birthday. Tremendous were the good resolutions adopted that morning. It was to be a great year. He never forgot the solemnity of that hour, even though, at the end of it, still on an empty stomach, he fell asleep.
As a result of one of the decisions made by the pool near Wellington, Brush found himself towards noon on the same day in Armina, forty miles away, whither he had come to draw his savings from a bank in that town. The bank consisted of one big room, high and well lighted, with a pen in the middle, walled in with a show of marble and of bright steel gratings. Beside the door the president sat in his smaller pen, filled with despair. Short of a miracle his bank had little over a week to live. Banks had been failing all through these states for months, and now even this bank, which had seemed to him to be eternal, would be obliged to close its doors.
Brush glanced at the president, but, resisting the temptation to go and talk to him, went to a desk and, drawing out his bankbook, made out a slip. He presented himself at the cashier's window.
"I'm closing up my account," he said. "I'll draw out everything except the interest."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'll take out the money," he repeated, raising his voice as though the cashier were deaf, "but I'll leave the interest here."
The cashier blinked a moment, then began fumbling among his coins. At last he said, in a low voice, "I don't think we'll be able to keep your account open for so small a sum."
"You don't understand. I'm not leaving the interest here as an account. I don't want it. Just return it back into the bank. I don't believe in interest."
The cashier began casting distraught glances to right and left. He paid out both sum and interest across the grating, mumbling: "I . . . the bank . . . you must find some other way of disposing of the money."
Brush took the five hundred dollars and pushed the rest back. He raised his voice sharply and could be heard all over the room saying, "I don't believe in interest."
The cashier hurried to the president and whispered in his ear. The president stood up in alarm, as though he had been told that a thief was entering the vaults. He went to the door of the bank and stopped Brush as he was about to leave.
"Mr. Brush?"
"Yes."
"Might I speak to you for a moment, Mr. Brush? In here."
"Certainly," said Brush, and followed him through a low gate into the presidential pen. Mr. Southwick had a great unhappy sheep's head rendered ridiculous by a constant fluttering adjustment of various spectacles and pince-nez and black satin ribbons. His professional dignity reposed upon an enormous stomach supported in blue serge and bound with a gold chain. They sat down on either side of this monument and gazed at one another in considerable excitement.
"Mm . . . mm . . . ! You feel you must draw out your savings, Mr. Brush?" said the president, softly, as though he were inquiring into an intimate hygienic matter.
"Yes, Mr. Southwick," replied Brush, reading the name from a framed sign on the desk.
". . . And you're leaving your interest in the bank?"
"Yes."
"What would you like us to do with it?"
"I have no right to say. The money isn't mine. I didn't earn it."
"But your money, Mr. Brush—I beg your pardon—your money earned it."
"I don't believe that money has the right to earn money."
Mr. Southwick swallowed. Then in the manner he had once used while explaining to his daughter that the earth was round, he said: "But the money you deposited here, that money has been earning money for us. The interest represents those profits, which we share with you."
"I don't believe in profits like that."
Mr. Southwick edged his chair forward and asked another question: "Mm . . . mm . . . ! May I ask why you have thought it best to withdraw your money at this time?"
"Why, I'm glad to tell you, Mr. Southwick. You see, I've been thinking about money and banks a lot lately. I haven't quite thought the whole matter through yet—I'll be able to do that when my vacation comes in November—but at least I see that for myself I don't believe in saving money any more. Up till now I used to believe that you were allowed to save some money—like five hundred dollars, for instance, for your old age, you know, or for the chance your appendix burst, or for the chance you might get married suddenly—for what people call a rainy day; but now I see that's all wrong. I've taken a vow, Mr. Southwick; I've taken the vow of voluntary poverty."
"Of what?" asked Mr. Southwick, his eyes starting out of his head.
"Of voluntary poverty, like Gandhi. I've always followed it somewhat. The point is to never have any money saved up anywhere. Do you see?"
Mr. Southwick mopped his forehead.
"When my pay check comes every month," continued Brush, earnestly, "I immediately give away all money that's left over from the month before, but I always knew that at bottom that wasn't honest. Honest, with myself, I mean, because all this time I had five hundred dollars hidden away in this bank here. But from now on, Mr. Southwick, I won't need any banks. You see, the fact that I had this money here was a sign that I lived in fear."
"Fear!" cried Mr. Southwick. He rapped the bell on his desk so hard that it crashed to the floor.
"Yes," said Brush, his voice rising as the truth became clearer to him. "No one who has money saved up in a bank can really be happy. All the money locked up here is being saved because people are afraid of a rainy day. They're afraid, as they say, that worst may come to worst. Mr. Southwick, may I ask if you're a religious man?"
Mr. Southwick was deacon in the First Presbyterian Church and had passed a red velvet collection bag for twenty years, but at this question he jumped as though he had been struck sharply in the ribs. A clerk approached him. "Go out at the corner and get Mr. Gogarty at once," he commanded, hoarsely. "Get him at once!"
"Then you know what I'm talking about," continued Brush. His voice could now be heard throughout the hall. Clerks and depositors had stopped what they were doing and were listening in consternation. "There is no worst coming to worst for a good man. There's nothing to be afraid of. To save up money is a sign that you're afraid, and one fear makes another fear, and that fear makes another fear. No one who has money in banks can really be happy. It's a wonder your depositors can really sleep nights, Mr. Southwick. There they lie, wondering what'll happen to them when they get old and when they get sick and when banks have troubles—"
"Stop it! Stop what you're saying!" cried Mr. Southwick, very red in the face. A policeman entered the bank. "Mr. Gogarty, arrest this man. He's come here to make trouble. Get him out of here at once."
Brush faced the policeman. "Arrest me," he said. "Here I am. What have I done? I haven't done anything. I'll tell the judge. I'll tell everybody what I've been saying."
"Come on along. You come on quiet."
"You don't have to push me," said Brush. I'm glad to come."
He was taken to the jail.
"My name is George Marvin Brush," he said, seizing the warden's hand.
"Take your dirty hand away," said the warden. "Jerry, get the fellow's prints."
Brush was led into another room to record his fingerprints and to be photographed.
"My name's George M. Brush," he said, seizing the photographer's hand.
"How are yuh?" said the other. "Glad to see yuh. My name's Bohardus."
"I didn't catch it," said Brush, politely.
"Bohardus—Jerry Bohardus."
Jerry Bohardus was a retired policeman with a kindly disposition and a dreamy, fumbling manner. A shock of long gray hair fell into his eyes. "Kindly step up in front of this glass table for me," he said. "It's fine weather we're having."
"Oh, fine," said Brush. "It's fine, outside."
"Now put your hand down lightly on this pad, Mr. Brown. That's the ticket. That's right. That's fine." He lowered his voice and added, confidentially: "Don't feel badly about this business, Mr. Brown. It's just a form we gotto go through, see? It don't mean anything. They send these here prints to Washington, where there are eighty-five thousand others; some of them belong to sheriffs and mayors, too, yes, sir. I wouldn't be surprised if there were a few senators. Now the other hand, my boy. That's the ticket. So you never had this done before?"
"No," said Brush. "The other town I was arrested in didn't seem to care about it."
"Probably they didn't have the ay-paray-tus," replied Bohardus, complacently knocking the glass table with his knuckles. "We give two thousand dollars for all this, and it's a dandy."
Brush earnestly examined the result. "That thumb's not very clear, Mr. Bohardus," he said. "I think I'd better do it over again."
"No, that's clear enough. You've got a fine thumb. See them spirals?"
"Yes."
"They're just about the finest spirals I ever saw. Some say they stand for character."
"Do they?"
"That's what they say. Now we'll take your picture. Will you kindly put your head in this frame? . . . That's the ticket. It's funny about fingerprints," continued Bohardus, placing a board of numerals against Brush's chest. "Even if there were a trillion contrillion of them no two'd be alike."
"Isn't that wonderful!" replied Brush, his voice lowered in awe. Bohardus retired under a dark cloth. "Do you want me to smile now?" called Brush.
"No," answered Bohardus, emerging and adjusting his lenses. "We don't generally ask for a smile in this work."
"I suppose you've seen lots of criminals in your day, Mr. Bohardus?"
"I? I certainly have. I've bertillioned people that have killed their folks and that have poisoned their wives and that have spat on the flag. You wouldn't believe what I've seen. . . . Now we'll get your side face, Mr. Brown. . . . That's the ticket." He came forward and turned Brush's head. He took the occasion to ask, delicately, "May I inquire what they think you did, Mr. Brown?"
"I didn't do anything. I just told a bank president that banks were immoral places and they arrested me."
"You don't say. . . . Chin up, Mr. Brown."
"My name isn't Brown. It's Brush—George Brush."
"Oh, I see. Well, what's a name, anyway? . . . There, now I guess we got some good pictures."
"Do you sell copies of these, Mr. Bohardus?"
"We're not allowed to, I reckon. Leastways, there never was no great demand."
"I was thinking I could buy some extra. I haven't been taken for more than two years. I know my mother'd like some."
Bohardus stared at him narrowly. "I don't think it shows a good spirit to make fun of this work, Mr. Brown, and I can tell you I don't like it. In fifteen years here nobody's made fun of it, not even murderers haven't."
"Believe me, Mr. Bohardus," said Brush, turning red, "I wasn't making fun of anything. I knew you made good photos, and that's all I thought about."
Bohardus maintained an angry silence, and when Brush was led away refused to return his greeting. The chief of police, Mr. Southwick, and other dignitaries were in earnest conference when Brush was led into the warden's office. At once he approached Mr. Southwick.
"I still don't see what was wrong in the things I said. Mr. Southwick, I can't apologize for a mistake I don't understand. I can see that you might feel hurt because I haven't a very high opinion of the banking business, but that's not a thing you can put me in prison for, and it's not a thing I can change my mind about, either. Anyway, all I ask is a fair trial and I think I can clear myself in half an hour. And I hope there are as many people in the courtroom as possible, because in these depression times a lot of people ought to know what Gandhi thinks of money."
The chief of police came toward him threateningly. "Now stop this foolishness!" he said. "Stop it right now. What's the matter with you, anyway?" He turned back to his men. "Jerry thinks this guy's screwy. Perhaps we ought to take him up to Monktown for some tests. . . . How about it, young fella? What's the matter with you, anyway? Are you nuts?"
"No, I'm not," cried Brush, violently, "and I'm getting tired of this. You can see perfectly well I'm not crazy. Give me any old test you like—memory, dates, history, Bible. I'm an American citizen, and I'm of sound mind, and the next person that calls me crazy will have to answer for it, even if I am a pacifist. I told Mr. Southwick that his bank and every other bank is a shaky building of fear and cowardice. . . ."
"All right, dry up, pipe down," said the chief. "Now looka here, Brush, if you aren't out of this town in an hour you get the strait-jacket and a six-months' sanity test upstate. Do you hear?"
"I'd like to take it," said Brush, "but I can't spare six months."
"Gogarty," said the chief, "see him to the depot."
Gogarty was a tall man with a great bony jaw and pale blue eyes.
"Boy, are you coming along quiet?" asked Gogarty.
"Of course I'll be quiet," said Brush.
After they had gone a number of blocks in silence Gogarty stopped, turned, and putting one forefinger on Brush's lapel, asked in a confidential tone:
"Say, boy, where did you get that idea about the Armina Savings Bank bein' shaky? Who told yuh?"
"I didn't mean that bank only. I meant all banks."
This answer did not satisfy Gogarty. Lost in thought, he continued to peer over his spectacles into Brush's face. Then he turned and stared up the street.
"Looks to me like there's a lot of people at the door of that bank now," he said. Suddenly he was roused to action. "Boy, you stick by me," he said. He dashed into the house before which they were standing. A woman was washing the dishes. "Mrs. Cowles," said Gogarty, severely, "as constable in this town I am obliged to use your telephone."
"Why, certainly, Mr. Gogarty," said Mrs. Cowles, nervously.
"And I'll have to ask you, ma'am, to go out on the front porch while I'm talking here."
Mrs. Cowles obeyed. When Gogarty had received a reply he said: "Mary, put on your hat. Do what I tell you. Go down and draw out all the savings, down to the last cent. And run. Only got half an hour. And don't tell nobody what you're doing."
He left the house with Brush and allowed Mrs. Cowles to return to her work. He again peered up the street, and deciding that his duty lay there, trusted Brush to reach the railway station by himself.
Mr. Southwick went home and lay down in a darkened room. From time to time he moaned, whereupon his wife, moving about on tiptoe, would rise and change the damp cloths on his forehead, whispering: "Sh, Timothy dear! There's nothing to worry about. You just take a nap. Sh!"
Chapter 2
Oklahoma City. Chiefly conversation. The adventure in the barn. Margie McCoy gives some advice.
Brush arrived at the McGraw House in Oklahoma City on the same evening. The following morning he set about putting in a hard day's work. He called on all manner of school superintendents, principals, and heads of departments. He drove out to a reformatory and was persuaded to address the assembled student body.
At eight o'clock in the evening he knocked at Blodgett's door. For a moment there was the sound of voices in loud altercation, then Blodgett came out into the hall and closed the door behind him.
"Say, Brush," he said, "about tonight. I just want to ask you to be a little careful. You know. My cousin's kind of nervous. Just keep off subjects that might upset her. You get the idea."
"All right. I'll try and remember."
"Yeah. She's had a lot of fuss lately. She only got a divorce last month, and you know how it is."
"She's a . . . divorced woman?" asked Brush, softly.
"Yeah, yeah. So you see!" and Blodgett winked with fraternal complicity. Then he opened the door and announced, with nervous cordiality: "Well, Marge, look who's here."
Margie McCoy was sitting on the bed, her feet on a newspaper, her back against the iron bedstead. Her face was still sullen. She held a tall glass in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. She acknowledged Brush's greeting by only the slightest movement of her eyes, after which she continued gazing implacably at the wall before her.
The conversation proceeded with the greatest difficulty. Brush went carefully, not sure which subjects were likely to unnerve a woman who had recently passed through the harrowing experience of obtaining a divorce. After forty minutes of this discomfort he rose to go.
"Well, thank you very much for letting me come around," he said, backing to the door. "I'd better be going. I still have some reports to draw up, and . . ."
To the surprise of both the men, Mrs. McCoy spoke: "What's the hurry? What's the hurry?" she asked, irritably. "Sit down. Don't you smoke, either? No wonder you feel like a fool, just sitting and talking. Remus, give'm some ginger ale, anyway. That way he can at least hold something in his hand, my-God!"
A second attack was made on conversation. Brush let fall the news that he had been arrested and taken to jail since last he saw them. He was encouraged to tell the story and was soon recounting his conversation with Mr. Southwick. He explained the theory of voluntary poverty. Now Mrs. McCoy's eyes were resting on him in astonishment. At the end of his exposition the same question rose simultaneously to the lips of both the listeners.
"What would you do if you lost your job?" they asked.
"Well, I don't know exactly. I never really thought about it. I guess I'd find something. Leastways, it doesn't seem very likely. I keep getting raises all the time. They even make me nervous."
"The raises make you nervous?" asked Mrs. McCoy.
"Yes."
"What would you do if you got sick?" she asked.
"What are you going to do when you get old?" asked Blodgett.
"I already explained that to you," he said.
Mrs. McCoy solemnly put her feet on the floor and, placing her hands on her hips, she leaned forward: "Listen, baby," she said. "Let me look at you. Are you trying to kid me?"
"Why, no, Mrs. McCoy. I'm serious."
She just as solemnly returned to her position on the bed. "Well, something's the matter," she muttered, looking distrustfully into her glass.
"Buddy," said Blodgett, "why did you say that it made you nervous to get raises?"
"Because hardly anybody else's getting raises these days. I think everybody ought to be hit by the depression equally. You see?"
Mrs. McCoy said dryly: "Sure I see. Your ideas aren't the same as other people's, are they?"
"No," said Brush, "I should think not. I didn't put myself through college for four years and go through a different religious conversion in order to have ideas like other people's."
"I see. Now answer me another: When you get married what are you going to use for money?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"How do you know your wife'll be willing to throw away all your money every month, and how do you know she'll be willing to look forward with a big thrill to the poorhouse, like you do?"
"Oh, she will," said Brush.
"You're engaged, are you?" asked Blodgett.
"I'm . . . I'm practically engaged. Well, I don't know whether I'm engaged or not."
"Is she a . . . she's a nice girl, eh?"
"I don't know that, either—not for sure." Brush glanced at Blodgett. "I'd better not talk about it," he said. "It's all a part of that big mistake I made. You said you didn't want me to mention things like that tonight."
"I can stand anything now," said Mrs. McCoy. "After the big poverty idea I can stand anything. The other morning was different. I couldn't stand it on an empty stummick, that's all. Come on and tell us what happened."
Again Brush looked at Blodgett.
"Sure," said Blodgett, "Go ahead."
"I know it's a pretty intimate thing to tell people . . . people that I've only known a short time. But you'll see how badly I need advice on it. Before I begin I think I ought to explain to you how I feel about women."
"Just a minute, buddy," said Blodgett, trimming a cigar. "You're sure you can stand it, sister?"
"What did I tell you? I can stand anything."
Brush looked up in surprise. "There's nothing hard to stand about this. I just wanted you to know that until this thing happened I was looking everywhere for a wife. Really, everywhere. It was almost the only thing I thought about. You see, I'm twenty-three years old; in fact, that was my birthday when you met me yesterday."
"Well, well!" said Blodgett. "Many happy returns of the day."
"Thank you a lot . . . and I should have settled down long ago . . ."
"I see."
". . . and founded an American home."
"What?"
Brush leaned forward earnestly. "You know what I think is the greatest thing in the world? It's when a man, I mean an American, sits down to Sunday dinner with his wife and six children around him. Do you know what I mean?"
"Six, eh?"
"Yes, and the more the better. Well, that's the thing I want most of all, so everywhere I go I keep looking for a wife. And every now and then I used to think I'd found her. For instance, I was singing in church one day—I guess I never told you I had a very good tenor voice—"
"No."
"Well, I have; so when I come to a town where I have to stay over Sunday I go to the minister of a church and offer to sing at the service. It makes the service more inspiring. And one day I was singing and I saw a girl in the congregation that looked perfect to me. I was singing 'The Lost Chord,' and when I came to the loud part you can imagine how I put everything into it. After service everybody came up and asked me to go home to dinner with them. That's what always happens. And the father of this girl came up and asked me to go home with them. All during dinner I sat by her and I thought she was the finest girl I'd ever seen in my life, even though she didn't say hardly a word. But all the time I was afraid something would spoil it. I brought the conversation around to evolution and I found she was all right there; they didn't believe any of that about monkeys. Well, you can guess what happened."
"No," said Blodgett, "I don't know as I can."
"We were sitting around after dinner and she asked her brother for a cigarette."
"You don't say!"
"Her mother was pretty disappointed in her and said so, but she wasn't as disappointed as I was. I guess she wanted to show off, with a singer in the house, that she wasn't just a village girl. That was in Sulphur Falls, Arkansas. Now I can never hear about Sulphur Falls without a funny feeling in my stomach."
"That's quite a story," said Blodgett. "Eh, Margie?"
"Did she ever know what she lost?" asked Mrs. McCoy.
Brush smiled. "It wasn't only me she lost, Mrs. McCoy," he said.
Blodgett broke in hurriedly. "Do they ever refuse to let you sing?"
"Sometimes they give me a test, but after a few notes they know it's all right."
"You ought to be able to pick up some handy money, that way."
"No, I don't believe in taking money for it. Once in Plata, Missouri, a man came up and offered me two hundred dollars to sing at the Elks' convention in St. Louis, but I couldn't. I would have done it for them free of charge, only my route didn't go anywhere near St. Louis at that time. That's another of my theories. A voice like mine is just a gift, that's all. It's not to anybody's credit to have a fine voice. It's just a thing of nature, like any other. Niagara Falls and the caves of Kentucky and John McCormack are just gifts to the public. It's like strength. I happen to have that, too. I'll help you move your trunk or your piano all day, but I wouldn't take money for it. Do you see?"
"Yes," said Mrs. McCoy, "I see something. Only, when are you going to get back to the other story?"
"It's a hard story to tell. It was in the vacation before my senior year at college——"
"What college was that?" asked Blodgett.
"Shiloh Baptist College, in South Dakota, a very good college. Summers I used to cover Missouri, Illinois, and some parts of Ohio, selling the Children's Encyclopedia. I walked and hitch-hiked from one place to another. And one day I got lost. I must have been about twenty miles from Kansas City, sort of southwest. It got dark and began to rain. So I stopped at a farmhouse to ask if I could sleep in the barn. The farmer and his wife took me into their kitchen and gave me some coffee and bread and butter. They said they were Methodists and I could see there were three or four beautiful daughters moving around; but I couldn't see them very well because they stayed out of reach of the lamplight. But I noticed them and they all seemed to be quiet, beautiful girls. I said to myself that I'd make a good note of the house in the morning and come back again some day. Then I thanked them and said good night and went to the barn and went to sleep." Here Brush took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. "From now on it's kind of delicate," he said, "and I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I guess you've both been married."
"Yes," said Blodgett, "we know the worst."
"I woke up in the pitch dark and heard a girl's voice laughing, and then later it was half laughing and half crying. She asked me if I wanted something to eat. Well, I can always eat something—"
"Have an apple?" asked Mrs. McCoy.
"No, thank you, not now . . . We had a long talk. She said she wasn't happy on the farm. I asked her what her name was and she said 'Roberta.' Anyway, it sounded like Roberta. And that's important, because maybe it was Bertha. And one day in the newspaper I saw that there was a girl's name called Hertha. It might have been any one of those names."
"What does it matter what her name was?" cried Mrs. McCoy.
"You'll see. Anyway, she cried and I tried to comfort her. So I decided she was the person I was going to marry."
There was a pause; the others looked at him inquiringly.
He repeated with emphasis, "So I decided she was the person I was going to marry."
Blodgett leaned forward and asked in a low, shocked voice, "You mean you ruined the girl?"
Brush turned pale and nodded.
"Give him a drink!" cried Mrs. McCoy, abruptly, "Give him a drink, for Gawd's sake!"
"I don't drink," said Brush.
"Remus, you give'm a drink," she cried, still more violently. "He's gotta take it. I can't stand seeing him act like a big baby. Now you drink that down and stop being a fool."
Brush accepted the glass and made a pretense of sipping at it. To his surprise, a weak sweetish taste lingered on his lips.
"Hurry up," said Mrs. McCoy. "How does it end?"
"That's about all," he continued. "I tried to tell this girl I'd be back the next day to marry her, but she ran back into the house. So I went down the road in the rain and walked all night. I walked for hours, planning what I'd say to her father and everything. But, you know, I've never been able to find that house again. I've been up and down every road that side of Kansas City a dozen times. I asked everybody about a farmhouse with daughters that were Methodists. I talked to all the R.F.D. postmen, but it was no good. Now you know why I can't think of being a minister."
There was a pause.
"And you love the girl, huh?" asked Blodgett.
Brush was displeased with the question. "It's not important if I love her or not," he said. "All I know is that I'm her husband until she or I dies. When you've known anybody as well as that, it means that you can never know anybody else as well as that until one of the two of you dies."
Mrs. McCoy leaned out of the bed and peered at the glass in his hand vindictively. "You're not drinking that drink!" she cried. "Drink it up. Don't you fool with it. Drink it up."
"I don't drink, Mrs. McCoy."
"I don't care whether you do or don't. I tell you to."
Blodgett himself was alarmed at her intensity. He raised one eyebrow expressively as a signal to Brush who took another swallow. Mrs. McCoy watched him belligerently. Then again she lowered her feet solemnly to the floor. She said, slowly, "Do you want advice?"
"Yes, I do."
"Naw, naw. I'm asking you, do you want some advice?"
"Yes."
"From who? From me?"
"Yes."
"Then listen! Now listen! Since you've tried as hard as you can; since you can't find the girl; since the girl let herself in for it, anyway—see?—since all these things are so, forget it. You're clear. You're free. Begin again. Begin all over."
"I can't do that. Don't you see I'm married already?"
"What are you talking about? You're not married. You have no license. You're not married."
"Mrs. McCoy, if you say I'm not married you're just quibbling with words, because I certainly am."
Mrs. McCoy stared at him wrathfully, then, shaking her head, returned to her former position.
Brush continued with lowered eyes: "Anyway, it's perfectly clear to me. And maybe it means that I can't settle down and found an American home. Sometimes I think I may get so discouraged that I may fall sick—or worse. Because that's all sickness is—discouragement. That's one of my theories, too. I have a theory that all sickness comes from having lost hope about something. If they find out they're not as good as they thought they were—in business or in anything else—or if they've done wrong and can't undo it, then they gradually fall sick. They really want to die. They haven't any real interest left in wanting to see the sun come up on the next day. They think they want to live, but secretly they don't. Anyway, I'm going to think it through next November when I get my vacation. In the meantime I'm a good example of it. Look at me; I'm so worried about this that I got influenza last Spring. I've never been sick in my life. And another thing—if you'll excuse my mentioning it—I never used to have to take laxatives; but now I have to take laxatives all the time. I know what causes it, too. It means that I don't want to live unless I can settle down and have an American—"
At this point Margie McCoy became distraught. "Can't you stop him? Name-a-God, is this going on forever! Seems like we been here hours talking about this one thing. Change the subject. I'm going nuts. And you there, take another drink. No-o-o, none of those bird-sips."
Brush took another swallow and then rose. "I guess I'd better be going," he said. "I have to leave on a two o'clock train for Camp Morgan. Thank you for letting me come to see you."
He stood lamely in the middle of the room, waiting to see whether Mrs. McCoy intended shaking hands with him. She rose and strolled towards the door, swinging her hips as she went. She leaned against the wall by the door. The two men looked at her in some trepidation.
"Now, listen! Listen to me!" she said, emphatically. "You make me sick. Where do they get yuh, your the'ries and your ideas? Nowhere! Live, kid,—live! What'd become of all of us sons-a-bitches, if we stopped to argue out every step we took? Stick down to earth."
Brush looked at her with furrowed brow and said in a low voice, "It seems to me I live."
To the astonishment of both men, she placed her hand on his shoulder. "I mean, look around you. We'll be dead soon. Thinking doesn't change anything. It only makes you twice as blue."
"It doesn't make me blue," he said.
Mrs. McCoy turned back angrily into the room and lit another cigarette. "Oh, go to hell!" she said.
Blodgett followed Brush into the hall.
"I wish she'd at least shaken hands with me," said Brush.
"Don't get her wrong," said Blodgett, confusedly, "That's the way she is when you first know her. She'll be all right when you know her better."
Brush returned slowly to his room. Before beginning to pack, he stood at the window and looked out into the rain. "I talk too much," he said to himself in a whisper. "I must watch that. I talk too damn much."
Chapter 3
Good times at Camp Morgan. Dick Roberts' nightmares. Dinner with Mississippi Corey.
George Brush's trip to Camp Morgan was in obedience to a telegram he had received on his arrival in Oklahoma City. The telegram came from his superior in the publishing-house and read: JUDGE LAKE MORGAN CAMP SETTLE GUTENBERG ALDUS CAXTON GIVE HIM THE WORKS SKIES THE LIMIT EINSTEIN. This message was not so difficult of interpretation as it appears to be. Howells, the sender, was a debonaire soul who signed his official communications with any signature that occurred to him as being improbable. "Judge Lake Morgan Camp" meant that Representative Corey, judge by inheritance from his father, was spending the week-end at the Lake Morgan Chautauqua and Recreation camp, Morganville, Oklahoma. Judge Corey was the most influential member of the educational committee at the legislature; the choice of the textbooks for the public-school system lay largely in his hands. "Settle Gutenberg Aldus Caxton" meant that Brush was to persuade him to recommend certain textbooks published by his house. The names of the great printers served as code convention for Caulkins' First Year Algebra, Mademoiselle Desfontaines' Les Premiers Pas, and Professor Grubb's A Soldier with Caesar. "Give him the works skies the limit" referred to an elaborate joke between Howells and Brush, a joke that reposed on the pretense that representatives could be bribed. It implied that Brush was empowered to offer Judge Corey an honorary directorship in the League for the Improvement of Secondary Education. This post carried with it a retaining fee of seven hundred dollars a year. The joke had long since lost its freshness for Brush, but Howells returned to it month after month. Howells even insisted that a rival publishing-house practiced such a device in all seriousness, offering certain legislators a seat on the advisory counsel of an Education for Better Citizenship Union, carrying a retaining fee of a thousand dollars a year. Brush knew that Caulkins and Company would be incapable of such strategy, and, besides, he was unable to see how one opened the conversation that would lead to such an offer. At all events, he was able to place textbooks before millions of school children without such aids, and he was highly regarded by his firm in spite of his eccentricities.
In fact, his eccentricities gave the publishing-house no little pleasure. Brush's expense-account statements were unlike any others ever received in the office. He recorded every nickel and expended a large amount of ingenuity in saving the firm's money. He never doubted that the great Mr. Caulkins examined his reports in person, and he was right. Mr. Caulkins not only read them; he took them home to his wife, and carried them about with him in his pocket to show his friends at the club. There was only one point on which Brush and Howells came to strife. Brush not only refused to accept appointments with school officials on Sunday; however pressed his time, he refused to travel by train or bus on Sunday in order to reach an appointment on Monday morning. At a pinch he would consent to walk and hitch-hike. To ride a train on Sunday broke the Sabbath and prevented the trainmen from going to church and from passing the day in meditation. Howells pointed out to him that trains ran on Sunday anyway, "to carry sons and daughters to the bedside of their parents who had suddenly been taken ill." Brush replied that most parents would be willing to wait another day.
Brush left Oklahoma City at two and, employing a complicated chain of trains, buses, trolleys and taxicabs, crossed the greater part of the state and arrived at Morganville the next afternoon. During the journey he approached no one on the subject of salvation, but he reasoned with a Greek proprietor of a lunch-wagon on the matter of profanity, urged a farmer's boy to work his way through college, persuaded a garage proprietor to adopt a famished cat, and "thought through" the matter of capital punishment and the life sentence.
At Morganville he climbed into a bus hung with Chinese lanterns and banners that read: "Good times at Camp Morgan." He faced an advertisement on the back of the seat before him that read: "Girls, extend your acquaintance. Our Name-Badge Dances introduce everyone." The bus, advancing wildly through a pine wood, first passed a company of women in bloomers who were being instructed in nature lore, then a shoal of men in underwear who staggered by, their eyes starting out of their heads, their heels rapped by the cane of a sneering athletic coach. The road skirted a lake that was dotted with canoes and rowboats. In the middle of the lake a great balloon, advertising an automobile gasoline, was moored to a projecting rock. Brush dismounted at the administration shed and bought a registration card accompanied by a handful of tickets—bed assignment, meal coupons, and admission to a performance of "The Rivals" by the Normal School Forest of Arden Players.
His cot was one of six in a tent named "Felix." It belonged to the Oranges. His tentmates greeted him cheerfully, for the next morning the Oranges were to have a tug of war with the Blues, and Brush looked as though he could pull six men off their feet. He took a walk around the grounds, without enthusiasm. Seeing there was to be a camp-fire sing and marshmallow roast, he sought out the entertainment director, offered his services as soloist, and was accepted. Then he called upon the manager of the dining-hall, and had a place reserved for him at Judge Corey's table.
Returning to his tent, he began to unpack. He arranged his tooth-brush and shaving outfit on the shelf above his bed. On the cot next to his a man of forty lay, recovering from his exertions on the reducing squad. He opened an eye from time to time to observe Brush as he went about his work. Presently he raised himself up and, putting his feet on the floor, sat forlornly on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands.
Brush glanced at him sharply. "Don't you feel right?" he asked. "Did you overdo it?"
"Oh, I feel all right," said the man. A silence fell on his dejection. Brush glanced at him again and found the man looking at him with an absurd woe in his eyes. To recover himself the man said: "I don't know why I came to this place. I wish I were back in the office."
"It's Friday already," said Brush. "You wouldn't be doing anything in the office over the week-end, would you?"
"No, nor any other time. But I got the habit; I just go and sit there. I'm in real estate, and let me tell you we get heart failure every time the phone rings. I go and sit there and fool around the desk. I don't know."
"Sundays?"
"Yes, I manage to be there Sundays, too. There isn't anything else to do."
There was another pause. Brush began putting on a clean shirt for dinner.
"My wife dragged me here. She said it was good for the kids to get these lectures and shows. Yeah, she said it was good for the kids to take in these shows and concerts. Say, fella, my name's Dick Roberts of Meyrick."
"Glad to meet you. My name's George Brush. I travel in school books. My home's in Ludington, Michigan."
"Michigan, eh? Is there anything doing in your line?"
"Yes . . . yes," said Brush, tying his tie and frowningly studying Roberts' face in the mirror. "We keep selling pretty well."
Roberts struggled with himself and finally said, with effort: "Brush . . . mm. I may have to ask you to do a little favor for me."
"Sure. What can I do?"
"It may not be necessary, see, but just on the chance it is. I see as you've got the next cot to mine. My wife tells me I talk in my sleep. Just wake me up if I do."
"You mean that you snore?"
"No, I don't snore. She says that sometimes I sort of shout. Not very often, but sometimes. If I do it these nights, just hit me, see? Then I'll get up and go and sleep by the lake where I won't trouble anybody."
"Sure I'll do that."
"I just mentioned it. I don't sleep very well, anyway," continued Roberts, staring at the ground. "I guess I haven't slep' for weeks, not what you'd call slep'. That's why I went on that damned running squad. I wanted to get tired out."
The tent "Felix" stood beside the road that led through the camp-ground to the water's edge. Brush became aware of a woman standing in the road and calling: "Oh, Dick! Dick Roberts!"
"There's your wife calling you now," he said.
Roberts went out to her. Brush could hear her saying: "Lillian wants you to come in swimming and hold her up. Perhaps you're too tired now, though. I think there's just time before dinner and it might do you good."
"Yes, I'll be right along."
"Are you going to be comfortable, Dick?" she asked, peering anxiously towards the tent.
"Yes, it's fine. Everything's fine," he said, adding, "Wait a minute."
Roberts came back into the tent. "I'd like you to shake hands with my wife, if you're not busy," he said.
"I'd like to," replied Brush.
Mrs. Roberts was a short, slight woman with a manner that was at once vivacious and shy. After the introduction the three started walking slowly down the hill. Mrs. Roberts' eyes returned frequently with concern to her husband's face; his rested on the ground or affected to be interested in some object across the lake.
"We're so glad we came," said Mrs. Roberts. "The children are just as happy as they can be. You'd think they'd been here all summer, and of course they simply love it. I suppose you've come for a good rest and change."
"No," said Brush. "I don't like this kind of place. I've come on business to contact a man."
"Oh!" said Mrs. Roberts, glancing quickly at his face. "Well, I hope I see you again, Mr. Brush. Now I expect you'll be wanting to talk to some of these pretty girls around here."
"I'll get my suit on," said Roberts, and left them.
Brush did not move away. He continued walking gravely by Mrs. Roberts. She again glanced nervously at his face, and, stopping, said with great effort:
"Mr. Brush, since you're in my husband's tent, I think I ought to tell you something."
"I know. He told me."
"About his nightmares, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps it won't happen. But it would be very good of you to wake him up at once. I'm afraid he worries about that business too much. He just sits all day and all evening in that office, and I think he broods, that's a fact. That's why I came here to Camp Morgan—though it's quite expensive—to give him a change. Oh, I don't know what to do and I'm just sick about it!"
Here Mrs. Roberts began groping feverishly in her handbag for a handkerchief. Brush glanced down at her hands out of the corner of his eyes, standing ready to offer her his own, then continued solemnly looking at the lake.
"And what's more," added Mrs. Roberts, ". . . six weeks ago he had a kind of awful experience and he's never been the same since. And very likely he broods about that, too."
"Was he in an automobile accident?"
"No; it wasn't that. I'd like to tell you about it, if you're not . . . if you're not going any place. You see, Mr. Roberts and I were at one of those foolish amusement parks and we were riding on a roller-coaster, and a man in the same car as we were fell out and was killed. While he was dying, though, he wanted to dictate a letter to his family in Fort Wayne, Indiana, and Mr. Roberts, being an Elk, too, volunteered to take it. It was a simply awful accident. This man—though I hate to say it—was a perfect fool, Mr. Brush. He was one of that show-off kind and I guess he was trying to catch the attention of some girls in the same car. Mr. Roberts and I just hated him and there wasn't anybody that thought his jokes were funny. But the more people were disgusted with him the more he cut up. And the second trip, going around a curve, he stood right up in the car and pretended to dive. And sure enough, naturally, he fell. He fell hitting all those girders and things. Then while he was on the ground, waiting for the ambulance, he kept calling: 'Is anybody here an Elk? Is anybody here an Elk?' Seems he wanted to talk to an Elk, so Mr. Roberts volunteered. It made a terrible impression on him."
"I'll be glad to watch out for him tonight, Mrs. Roberts," said Brush. "I didn't think he looked very happy."
She turned and said, quickly, with nervous emphasis: "You know, that's a fact—he's not happy. I suppose I really oughtn't to tell you anything about this . . . you being so young and everything . . . but, Mr. Brush, I think he was going to commit suicide last week."
"Do you?"
"I don't know. I don't know. And I've never mentioned it to a soul. But one night I got up. I saw a light in the bathroom, and he was standing there just thinking . . . and with such a look on his face, Mr. Brush, such a sad look. And now when he calls out in his sleep I think it's about that. There's no business at his office any more, not to speak of, and he worries about me and the children." Here she suddenly lowered her head and whispered, passionately: "I don't mind if we're going to be poor. I don't care if we're as poor as dirt. I don't care if the town pays for us, only I don't want him to be so miserable."
"You ought to tell him that," said Brush.
"I can't. Somehow I can't. He's real proud. He thinks so much of having a nice home in a good neighborhood. He's real proud. Sometimes it seems like he thinks the depression's his own fault. You know, he'd kill himself for the insurance. I know he would. And I'm just sick about it."
"Apart from the nightmares, does he sleep very well?"
"I . . . I don't know. I listen to his breathing and sometimes I think he just imitates sleeping, so as not to worry me."
At this minute a boy of nine, dripping wet, came running up the slope, calling: "Mamma, I gotta turtle. I gotta turtle, mamma. Look't." But as his eyes caught sight of the tears on his mother's face the words stuck in his throat. He glanced from his mother to Brush, then back again, then continued in a low voice; "Look, mamma, I gotta turtle. See."
"George, this is Mr. Brush. He rooms in the same tent with your father and you. Can you say how-do-you-do?"
A queenly woman with a badge on her chest approached them. "Don't forget the costume ball tomorrow night," she said. "You can make a costume by adding some amusing detail. If you can't think of anything, come to the desk and we will be happy to give you some suggestions. Ah, the darling little turtle. Aren't you happy you found it? Mr. Macklin is the nature man and he will explain it to you."
She went on her way. Brush said, "I think I can do something."
"And don't tell. You won't tell, will you?"
"No-no, not if I can help it."
Brush turned back towards the main hall. On the veranda a large red-faced man was making himself loudly agreeable to some embarrassed children.
"How do you do, Judge Corey?" said Brush.
"Stop right there!" cried the judge. "I know your name as well as I know my own. Don't tell me!"
"My name's George Brush. I've come to see you about putting some of Caulkins' textbooks on the recommended lists for your schools."
"Good. Fine. Always glad to do the people's business. We'll have a little talk about that after dinner."
Brush began talking at once about the excellence of his books, but the judge's mind began to wander.
"They sound fine, buddy. They certainly do. I don't want to miss any of that. Be sure you write me a letter about it."
"I've written you three letters, Judge."
"Good. My secretary's saving them for me. What states do you cover, buddy? Been down to Texas lately? How's Bill Winderstedt? D'you know Bill? Say, Brush, I want you to meet my wife and daughter." He peered about him. "Don't know where they've gone. My daughter Mississippi don't know many people here yet. Say, I got an idea. What table you sittin' at, young fella? Don't say a thing! I'll tell 'em to sit you at our table. They're throwing a novelty dinner tonight. You'll like it. They do things well at this camp. Yes, sir, they see everybody has a good time. Table M. Remember that—Table M."
"Thanks, Judge. I'd like to."
The judge drew nearer and assumed a confidential expression. "I got another idea. A coupla us fellas are going over to Morganville to the Depot Hotel about ten for a little game of poker. All right?"
"I don't play, Judge."
"Oh, you don't play?"
"No."
"Tell the truth, I get tired of it myself. It's harmless, y'know, but it takes up too much of a fella's time. See what I mean? There's my wife and girl now." The judge turned his back on his approaching family, as though he feared that they might read his lips, and whispered: "Say, sonny, if you're staying around the lot here you might keep an eye on my little girl. She don't know many people here. A little canoe ride y'know . . . no rough stuff . . . just a half-hour canoe ride, something like that."
Mrs. Corey was a tall, stiff woman with a frightened expression on her face; her daughter greatly resembled her. The mother wore a pince-nez hung upon a long gold chain; Mississippi wore thick blurred spectacles.
"Girls," said the judge, "I want you to meet Jim Bush, one of the finest fellas you could hope to see. Jim, this is my wife. She's put up with me for thirty years and she's a prince. And this is Mississippi, the sweetest and snappiest little home-girl in Oklahoma, if I do say it."
"I didn't catch the name," said Mississippi, politely.
"Jim Bush! Jim Bush!" roared her father.
"Isn't that funny! I know so many boys named Jim!"
"Well, this Jim is sitting at our table," continued the judge, with a wink, "and I don't want to see any monkey business going on, like there was last week."
"Why, Leonidas!" cried Mrs. Corey, fingering the gold chain. "I don't know what Mr. Bush'll think."
"Well, if he thinks what I think, he'll think plenty," cried the judge.
"Papa, listen!" exclaimed Mississippi, coquettishly, flinging her elbow against her ears and burying her hands in the small of her back. "Listen, I know what let's do. Let's not eat here. Let's row across the lake, papa, and eat at that place above the water with the lanterns. Papa, do that for 'Sippy."
"Girlie, I'd do it if I could. I'd do it in a minute, but I can't. Y'see, Jim, I'm stockholder in this camp, and I've got to make an important announcement at dinner tonight."
"Tell him, papa; it's your idea. Listen, Mr. Bush."
"Yes, sir, about how everybody who mentions the depression must pay a fine of fifteen cents. D'you like it?"
"Yes," said Brush.
"But you young people run across the lake and try it. You try it and tell me how it is."
"Now don't stay too late, Mississippi. You know how I worry," said her mother.
"I can't go tonight, Mrs. Corey," said Brush. "I've been asked to sing at the camp fire at eight o'clock." Back of his words lay his astonishment that anyone could propose paying for a meal in one place when the meal had already been paid for at another.
"Why, it's only six o'clock! Seems like you could be over and back in that time," said Mrs. Corey, and in a sudden burst of noise the Coreys settled the matter.
The judge then pretended to have misgivings. "I don't know if we can trust our girlie to a big six-footer like Jim here," he said, striking Brush sharply on the back.
Brush went down to the waterfront and prepared the canoe, and ten minutes later the couple were sitting down at the Venice Inn, prepared to consume the seventy-five cent chicken dinner. Mississippi talked without pause, and as she talked she continually fingered, for coquetry, the hair at the back of her head and the folds of her dress over her lean clavicles. She declared an increasing admiration for Brush. "Now when can you come to Okey City, 'cause I want to give a big, big party for you. My father loves for me to give parties and I know our crowd would be crazy about you. Really, our crowd has the best time. We're not foolish, you know what I mean; we're just friends together. When can you come, Mr. Bush?"
"I don't go to parties very much," said Brush, slowly, "but I'll call you up some day and I'd like to have a talk."
Mississippi swallowed and said, with affected casualness: "Of course, I don't know whether you're married or not, Mr. Bush, but I don't think it matters much when one's just friends. Do you?"
Brush kept his eyes on the plate. "I'm practically engaged," he said. "I'm about married."
This announcement led Mississippi to share with him her ideas on love and marriage. Brush became fascinated by the spectacle of so many disadvantages heaped upon one person. From sheer distress his mind began to wander and he only caught fragments of her remarks. "You know," she said, "I don't care how poor a man is, honest I don't, but he must have high ideals. My girl friends say I'm foolish; but I'm funny that way. I couldn't bring myself to marry a man that didn't have good ideals." When, however, Mississippi began boasting about her adventures with gin, and when she began smoking a cigarette, Brush could contain himself no longer. Suddenly his lips spoke without his knowing it.
"You shouldn't talk baby talk," he said.
Both were shocked. "Why, James Bush," said Mississippi, "I didn't think you were rude. I don't talk baby talk. A person can't help how she talks."
"I . . . I beg your pardon. I didn't know what I was saying," said Brush, rising and turning very red. "I never did a thing like that before, Miss Corey. I apologize."
"But I don't . . . do I? Do I talk baby talk? If there's anything about me you don't like, I want you to tell me so, honest. I'm not conceited. I like people to tell me my faults. Honest, Mr. Bush, I'm not sore."
"My name's Brush, George Brush. Your father got it all wrong. George Brush."
"Really, I want to be told my faults. I don't think I'm perfect; honest, I don't."
Brush sat down again. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and stared into her distorting spectacles. "Miss Corey, I've made a great study of girls. Everywhere I go I study them and watch them. I think they're about the most wonderful thing in the world. And I've been studying you, too. May I ask you to take off your glasses a minute?"
Mississippi turned pale. With a trembling hand she removed her spectacles. A frightened, pinched face looked uncertainly into his.
"Thank you," he said, gravely. He rose and took a few steps about the table. "You can put them on again."
There was a silence. Then he returned to his former position before her, and lowering his head, began with great earnestness: "Now, out of all my study I've drawn up a few rules for girls. Can I tell them to you? You might get to be a really nice girl if you worked on these rules." Her hand fluttered to her mouth, a gesture which he took for consent. "In the first place, always be simple in everything you do. Never laugh loud, for instance, and never make unnecessary movements with your hands and eyes. A lot of girls never get married because they have no friend to tell them that. In the second place, of course, never drink liquor or smoke. When girls do that, it's hard to recognize them for girls. And third and most important . . ."
At this point Mississippi Corey had hysterics. Brush was never to forget those ten minutes. There was weeping and laughing and gasping for breath; there was choking over a glass of water; there was lying down on a hammock and falling off a hammock. When at last the girl's sobs were under control, she was leaning on the parapet above the water, clutching Brush's hand and exclaiming: "Aren't I terrible to act like that in public! I think I'm terrible! But, honest, I'm not mad. I like to be told my faults. Goodness! I don't know what you'll think of me!"
Brush carried her down the steps to the dock and placed her in the canoe. For a time they paddled about the middle of the lake in silence. Mississippi washed her face. She seemed to regard herself as permanently dependent upon Brush's guidance. When he finally deposited her upon the shore, the campers were already beginning to seat themselves under the trees about the fire, and were singing of their own accord. "Working on the Railroad" was trying to drown out an upstart "Indian Love Call." Some boys were trying to amuse the company by throwing lighted flashlights from hand to hand. Brush excused himself and withdrew to clear his throat and gargle. He had asked to be first on the program, because he liked leaving an audience in the midst of its applause, in order to take a walk and savor the strange excitement that never failed to invade him after he had sung in public. When the program began he announced his selection: " 'Oh, for the wings of a dove,' by Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, 1809–1847."
This pedantry and the title of the song threatened to endanger its reception, but soon all was going well. Brush then sang " 'The Lost Chord,' by Sir Arthur Sullivan, 1842–1900." He then bowed twice and disappeared among the trees. The audience settled down to prolonged applause and, when their singer failed to reappear, began to clap rhythmically in triple beats crying "We—want—more! We—want—more.' " The entertainment director anxiously darted amont the tents and trees, hunting for his singer, but Brush hid himself behind the canoe-shed until he heard the announcement that the Reverend Mr. Kedworth would give a little philosophy talk on "Smiles," and then moved on. The squares and lanes of the camp were empty in the moonlight. He stopped before the shelf of books in the social-room, but there was no Encyclopædia Britannica, and he moved on. He looked in the window of the house marked "First Aid"; a doctor in a white coat was reading by a lamp. He was tempted to enter and engage him in a professional conversation, but, feeling an unaccustomed lassitude, he turned away and went on up the hill. There he came upon the brightly lighted windows of the kitchen. An army of young men and women were still washing the dishes of the week-end crowd. These were college students working their way through the summer. This was a thing he knew all about. Filled with happy excitement, he entered and offered his services. He was given a dishcloth and assigned to wiping glasses at the side of a gray-eyed girl, who immediately made a great impression on him.
Chapter 4
Further good times at Camp Morgan. Important conversation with a girl named Jessie Mayhew. Dick Roberts' nightmares concluded. George Brush refuses some money.
A tournament was taking place in the kitchen. The students were being made to sing the songs of the various colleges from which they came. The girls at the silverware-sink sang the song of Texas Wesleyan. Then a man and a girl at the cups and saucers table sang "Wisconsin, thy halls are ever fair." Then the gray-eyed girl who was working beside Brush was called upon for the song of McKenna College in Ohio. She made a speech first, saying that she had no ear and no voice, but that she would do what she could so as not to be an exception. She turned out to be a monotone, but her manner and her sportsmanship were so pleasing that she received an ovation. Then came a man from Georgia Tech, and a girl from Missoula. Then a Swedish cook, who had never been to college, but who had cooked for the students at Upsala, sang one of their songs. Then a demand arose for a song from the superintendent. No one had liked her very much, but from this evening, when she had turned very red and did what she could with the Goucher College song, opinion turned in her favor. Then the newcomer, George Brush, was called upon. He sang his Alma Mater so beautifully that all the workers held their breaths; he, however, went on the while swiftly and silently polishing glasses. The workers crowded about him, dishcloths in hands, asking him how long he was staying in the camp. Presently the superintendent called for silence by beating on a dishpan. "It's nine o'clock," she said. "At this rate we'll never get done. Hurry, everybody; let's finish up as soon as possible." Whereupon there followed a last ten minutes of concentrated work.
Brush whispered to the gray-eyed girl, "Can I call on you now?"
"What did you say?"
"Can I pay a call on you as soon as we're through?"
"Why . . ." she began, hesitatingly, . . . "why, yes."
"I'd like very much to talk to you."
They worked on in silence. At the signal for release there was a wild rush for the door on the part of those who wished to claim the canoes reserved for the workers. The superintendent crossed the room and, holding herself very straight, said to Brush: "I have a place vacant, if you'd like to stay and work in the dining-room."
"Thank you. I must leave tomorrow noon," he said, his eyes anxiously fixed on the back of the gray-eyed girl, who was going out of the door.
When he caught up with the girl he said, "Would you like to sit on the bench at the end of the pier?"
She did not answer. He saw that she had changed her mind and was hunting for the words with which to excuse herself. He said, abruptly and with unexpected intensity: "I know you must be pretty tired after all this extra work at the week-end, but I wish you'd make an exception for me. I'd rather call on you tomorrow, only I must leave before noon, and I guess we both have a good deal to do in the morning. So as a great favor would you let me call on you now?"
She looked at him. "We can sit in the clubroom," she said, briefly, and led the way to the farmhouse that had been set aside as a dormitory for the waitresses. The house, as they approached it, was in a state of bedlam. Girls' voices could be heard calling from room to room. "Louise, lend me your sandals." "You won't need a sweater; you'll die in it." Several young men were waiting at the steps. A girl appeared at a window on the second floor and called out, "Where's Jessie?"
"Here I am," said the gray-eyed girl, quietly.
"Jessie, honey, can I borrow your bandana?"
"Yes. Only, do be quiet when you come in, Hilda."
The parties went off in a shower of excited conversation, and the house promptly fell into a profound silence. Jessie led Brush into the clubroom on the first floor. It was fitted out with the castoff furniture of the social rooms farther down the slope: a card-table one of whose legs was mended with adhesive tape, a dilapidated leather center, some kitchen chairs. It was in great confusion. Jessie began mechanically putting it in order, gathering up the pillows, motion-pictures magazines, ukuleles and tennis rackets. She sat down on the couch and began untying the ribbon that bound her hair.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"George Marvin Brush. I was born in Michigan. I'm a traveling salesman in school books. I came to this camp to see a man on business. This evening I asked if I could help in the kitchen, because I like to be where students are and where people are working. I've had to do that kind of work almost all my life."
Jessie leaned far back on the couch, slipped the ribbon off her hair, and shook her head from side to side. She listened to Brush with abstracted self-possession. "You have a fine voice," she said. "Everybody hoped you were going to stay on and work here."
"I wish I could."
"Won't you sit down?"
"Thank you."
Jessie rested her head on her elbows and looked at the ceiling. The pause that fell was so alarming to Brush that he broke it by moving his chair forward a few inches and beginning with gravity: "I live traveling around on trains all the time and I meet a lot of people, but almost everybody I meet depresses me really terribly. Why, just this afternoon and evening in this camp I've met the most depressing people and it was beginning to have a bad effect on me. And then I saw you and I knew at once that you were a very fine person, and I can't tell you what a difference it made. So this talk we're having is very important to me; and as we haven't much time, you being so tired and everything, I want you to forgive me if I seem to be pretty personal on so short an acquaintance. I want you to know who I am and what I'm like so that I can write letters to you."
Slowly and a little guardedly Jessie began to sit up straight. She now fixed her eyes on his, full of surprise, but without fear or repugnance.
"There's no one in the whole world that I get any pleasure writing letters to," he continued. "So when I meet a person as fine as you, I don't want to lose the chance to know you better. And so that we can get to be . . . almost friends, I want to tell you who I am and what I'm interested in. Is that all right?"
Jessie blushed slightly. "Yes," she said.
"Well, as I said, my name is George Marvin Brush. I'm twenty-three years old. I graduated two years ago from the Shiloh Baptist College in Walling, South Dakota. I'm a Baptist and I'm pretty religious. I grew up on a farm in Michigan . . . Can I ask you to tell me a few things like that about yourself?"
The girl drew in her chin abruptly, as though she were about to make a rude answer. She thought better of it, however, and said, with only a touch of curtness: "My name is Jessie Mayhew. I'm twenty-two years old. I'm a senior at McKenna College in Ohio. When I graduate I'm going to be a teacher. I'm Methodist."
The gray eyes looked coolly into the blue.
"Can I ask you . . . have you a father and mother?"
"No," said Jessie. After a pause she added, with assumed casualness: "I was brought up in an orphanage and then I was adopted by some people who died. I've supported myself since second year high school."
"I guess we're pretty much alike in some ways," said Brush. The ticking of the alarm clock on the mantel filled the room. "There isn't much more to tell about me. I grew up on the farm. I've got a father and mother and two brothers, both older. One of my brothers went away to be a sailor; the other's still on the farm. I go back to see them Christmas, but . . . you know, I feel like an orphan, too, almost. I love'm, of course, but always there is a kind of wall between them and me. You see, they didn't want me to go to college." He scanned her face to see the effect of this severe indictment. "So I worked my way through, just as you've been doing. You'd know that I'm not bragging when I tell you that I got the highest grades of anybody, and I was captain of track. I'd have been captain of football and baseball, too, only, working all the time, I didn't have time for practice and I had to drop them. I know without your telling me that you get high grades."
"Yes," said Jessie, reddening again, "I got all A's."
Brush smiled. He smiled very seldom. "Before I ask you to let me write you letters," he continued, "it's only fair I tell you my faults. I think you ought to know that there are some things about me that are hard to like. What I mean is that people are always getting mad at me and . . . even disgusted. But before I tell you my faults, I want you to know that since my conversion I haven't done anything bad intentionally. Naturally I haven't told a lie, except one, when I told a man that I'd once been to New York City. The next day I went back to the town where he was and told him I hadn't. And my other faults, like saying things in a temper and being tight with money, I've always apologized for those pretty soon after."
"Why do people get disgusted with you?" asked Jessie.
"Because my ideas aren't the same as other people's. For instance, I was put in jail the other day because they didn't like my ideas about money." Whereupon he told the whole story of his arrest in Armina, adding to it accounts of his theories of voluntary poverty, pacifism, the punishment of criminals, and the story of his previous incarceration. "But even when I don't get taken to jail," he concluded, "I've always been called crazy. Do you see what I mean."
"Yes."
"Does that make you think I'm an . . . an inconvenient sort of person to know?"
"No."
"I don't mind my friends telling me once in a while that I'm crazy—as a joke, you know—but do you think . . . have you begun to feel like calling me crazy in earnest?"
"No," said Jessie. "I don't care anything what other people think. I like people to be different."
"Then I want to tell you about the three big secret disappointments in my life. They're getting to be less and less all the time, and when I can tell them to a person like you I see that they have no reason to be important at all. The first one is . . . is that at college the fellows never elected me to one of the three literary societies. I was the top student in the whole college and I was the captain of my teams, but they never elected me to Philomathian or Eunostia or to the Colville Society. I used to feel pretty badly about that; I used to wonder why they couldn't stand me. And the second disappointment, Jessie, was something that one of my teachers said to me. He was my prof. in Religion A 6, and I admired him more than any other that was there. I used to take questions to him at his house and I thought he liked it. He used to get mad at me often, but just joking mad. You know how it'd be. But one time he got really mad. He said: 'You've got a closed mind, Brush, an obstinate, closed mind. It's not worth wasting time on you,' he said. 'I wash my hands of you,' he said; 'you'll never get anywhere!' Imagine someone saying that! 'Now go away,' he said. 'Get away from me. Don't trouble me any more.' You know that was awful to me. Sometimes it comes back to me still, like it was the moment he said it, and the sweat—I mean the perspiration—comes out on my forehead. I don't want to live if I've got a closed mind and can't get anywhere—anywhere in thinking, I mean. But I don't believe what he said any more. I keep getting new good ideas all the time. I learn things as I go, at least that's the way it seems to me. As to the third disappointment, I don't want to tell you that just yet, but I'll tell you some day. But, Jessie, I don't want to give you the impression that I'm miserable or anything; because, really, at bottom, I'm the happiest man I've ever met. Sometimes it looks like everyone's unhappy except me. Just today in this camp I met such a mess of unhappy people that it began to get me; and then I saw you and I felt better right away." There was a pause, at the end of which he added, lamely; "So . . . I guess . . . that's how it stands."
Jessie said, without sharpness and with the beginning of a smile, "You do talk a lot."
"I know," he agreed, eagerly, "but I had to talk fast for lots of reasons." He gazed enthusiastically at her face a moment, then rose and said: "Will you let me give you a present to remember me by? This wrist watch is brand new and it's the best one I've ever had."
Jessie moved off the couch quickly. "No, no," she said, "I never like to have presents from people. I never like to. It doesn't mean I don't like people . . . but I don't like to take presents from them. Thank you just the same, though. Now, Mr. Brush, we're not old friends, and I don't like you to pretend we are. I'm interested in what you're saying about yourself," she added, seeing how crest-fallen Brush had become. "I didn't say what I said in order to send you away, because I like what you've been saying."
"Will you tell me a few things about how you grew up?" asked Brush, sadly returning the watch to his own wrist.
Jessie remained standing. She began to walk back and forth, as though to mark the casualness of what she chose to say. "Well, as I told you, I'm an orphan. I was found in a field. First I lived in an orphanage. That was near Cleveland, Ohio. Some people think I look Slovak. I don't know and I don't think it matters. When I was ten I was adopted by an old German shoemaker and his wife. They both died and ever since second year at high school I've supported myself by working in a hotel. I'm majoring in Biology and some day I'll either teach Biology or maybe I'll try to be a doctor."
"You don't believe," began Brush, fearfully—"you don't believe in all that about evolution, do you?"
"Why, yes, of course I do."
Brush almost whispered: "You don't think the Bible'd tell a lie, do you? Do you mean you can't see there's a difference as big as the whole world between a human being with a soul and a monkey jumping around in a tree?"
There was an awful silence. Then Brush put another fateful question: "You don't believe in women smoking cigarettes, do you?"
Jessie stopped and looked at him. "Do you think such things are important?"
"Yes, I do—terribly important."
"Well, I don't. I hardly smoke any, myself, but I like to see women doing things that show they can be taken just as seriously as men are." Her eyes remained on him. She saw how crushed he was. "I'm surprised that you're the kind of person that still thinks such things are important. I was just beginning to think you were the only young man I ever met who wasn't silly."
Brush continued to look at the floor. He said: "My vacation comes in November. Can I come to McKenna College and see you then?"
Jessie began walking up and down again. "You can do what you like, I guess," she said. "It wouldn't do any good, though. There wouldn't be anything to talk about, if you have ideas like that. Besides . . . I live by myself. For these years, anyway, I'm enough, just myself. Besides, I haven't really got time for any new friends. Ever since sophomore year I've been head waiter in the dining-hall, and the rest of the time I study."
"But can I come?"
"Yes, you can come, like anybody else."
"I mean . . . would you go for a walk with me? Or have dinner or something?"
"Yes."
"Well, good-by," said Brush, putting out his hand.
"Good-by. I don't know why you're acting so serious. I've only known you an hour and a half. You look as though you'd lost your last friend."
"All I want to do now is think, so I'll say good-by."
"Good-by."
He went out into the hall, full of thought. Then he turned with sudden energy and said through the door: "Will you promise to think about it, at least? I don't see how a fine girl like you can believe that the Bible tells lies and that we come from monkeys, and that it's all right for girls to smoke cigarettes. What becomes of the world if we let all those ideas into it? What good is living in the world if we become like the foolish city people that believe things like that? Why . . . why you'd just be an ordinary person if you had ideas like that!"
"I'll think about it," said Jessie, wearily and a little bitterly, as she went back to the task of straightening the room. When that was done she went up to her room and sat down. She laid her arms firmly along the arms of the chair and stared at the wall in front of her. From time to time she muttered, "He's crazy." Then realizing that there was no sleep for her, she changed her shoes and walked around the lake.
Brush returned to the tent "Felix" and went to bed. He had hardly fallen asleep, however, when he became aware of a great tumult. He awoke with a start. Dick Roberts was thrashing about on his cot. In a choked voice that increased every moment in volume he was crying out: "I can't . . . I can't . . ." In the vague light that entered the tent from the moonlight outside, Brush could see the other occupants who had raised themselves on their elbows and were angrily turned towards Roberts' cot. "What the hell's going on here?" they were saying. "Who's throwing a fit, for God's sake?" Dick Roberts' son was wailing, "Papa, papa . . ."
Brush jumped out of bed and, seizing Roberts' hand, began to pump it up and down. "Hey, Roberts! Hey, Dick Roberts!" he called, adding to the others: "It's nothing, fellas. Just a nightmare. It's all right. . . . Hey, Roberts, y'all right?"
Roberts sat up and wiped his forehead. Then somberly and in silence he leaned over and began putting on his shoes. Brush hastily put on his shoes and trousers.
"Golly! what a row!" grumbled one of their tentmates.
"Sorry," said Roberts, and picking up his bathrobe started to leave the tent.
"Papa, where y' goin'?" asked his son, in terror.
" 'Sh! Go to sleep, George."
"Papa! I wanta come."
"No, no. You go back to sleep."
Brush picked up a blanket and followed Roberts out of the tent. He caught up with him in the dusty road that led through the camp. Roberts was standing with lowered eyes in the moonlight; he was perfectly still and seemed to be thinking of something remote and profound. Brush stood and waited.
"You go on back," said Roberts, in a whisper, still without raising his eyes. "I'll find somewhere to sleep down by the shore here."
"Don't you think you'd better get your pants on? We'll go for a walk."
"I wouldn't go back to that tent for a million dollars."
"It doesn't hurt what those fellas say. What does it matter what people say?"
"I want to be alone," said Roberts, turning abruptly. He continued down the hill. Arriving at the water's edge, he took a paddle off the rack and pushed a canoe into the water. Brush did the same. Roberts whispered, savagely: "Beat it! Get out of here! I want to be alone, I said!"
"I must go wherever you go," said Brush.
Roberts started to direct his canoe toward the center of the lake. He beat the water first on one side, then on the other. The canoe wheeled in circles. Roberts became distraught with rage and began shoveling the lake furiously. Brush's canoe glided out like a seal. He pointed it in another direction, tactfully as though he had come out for a meditative hour in the moonlight. Roberts lost his paddle. Brush drew near. "I'll get it for you," he said.
"No! No! Get out!" cried Roberts in hoarse whispers. "What the hell is this, anyway? I'm not crazy yet. I don't need a guard to follow me around. I'm not crazy."
"Mr. Roberts, I'll be quiet. I won't trouble you. I just want to make sure you're all right."
Roberts stared at him a moment, then began plowing the lake again. His canoe turned over and in a moment he was noisily swimming towards shore.
"This is getting complicated," muttered Brush, shepherding canoe, paddle and swimmer. When he reached land, Roberts was trying to dry his pajamas by shaking himself and by wringing out the folds. Brush replaced the canoes and the paddles. "Wait a minute," he said. "I'll get you a towel." The bathhouse was locked, but Brush vaulted the board fence. He found some sour and blackened towels on the floor and threw them over the partition. When he vaulted back he found an old and nervous night watchman waiting for him with a flashlight.
"That's all right, boys," mumbled the watchman. "Have your fun, only don't make any noise."
"Borrow his flashlight," said Brush, "and go back to the tent and get your clothes on."
Roberts seized the flashlight, but before he started off he breathed, hoarsely, at Brush: "Go away! Get out! I want to be alone, I tell you!"
"I can't. I promised I'd follow you everywhere."
The night watchman shuffled along behind them: "Have all the good times you want, boys, only quiet," he said.
When Roberts emerged from the tent he was dressed. He held his automobile key in one hand and, running and stumbling, he started for the large field where scores of automobiles were drawn up in ranks. Brush ran along beside him. "If you don't take me along," he said, breathlessly, "I'll have to get some other people to help me."
Roberts was trembling so he could scarcely fit the key into the lock. Brush jumped upon the running-board, pleading with him. The motor started and Roberts savagely turned the handle that closed the window where Brush's hand was resting. Brush ran to the First Aid house and burst in upon the doctor. "Doc," he cried, "lend me your car, quick! There's a man here who I think may be trying to commit suicide."
"What? Wait a minute. I must get someone to take my place."
"I can't wait. I may lose him. Give me your car key."
They hurried out together. "What's the matter with him?" asked the doctor.
"He's . . . well, he's just not happy," explained Brush.
Roberts had taken some time in extricating his car from the ranks, and Brush started out eagerly after the dim red tail-light speeding through the lanes of the forest. Morgan's Wood was a vast checkerboard of roads. Rustic benches and tables had been set at intervals among the scrawny trees, and occasionally cement fireplaces had been built. Towers of scaffolding, roughened with carved initials of thousands of visitors, rose above the tree-tops, furnishing lookouts for sight-seers and fire wardens. Occasionally a boarded-up refreshment stand stood beside the road, like a vast piano-box in the moonlight. As Brush overtook Roberts, the latter gave him a glance and stepped on the accelerator. They drove abreast for a time, shouting at one another, their cars lurching from side to side. They suddenly emerged into the main street of Morganville. Roberts was in need of gas and drove up to the still-lighted garage. Brush, avoiding Roberts' sudden turn, swerved to one side and struck a hitching-post in front of the Depot Hotel. There was a terrific din of shaken metal and shattered glass, and in the silence that followed it one wheel slowly and drunkenly crossed the street, looked about for a bed, and lay down.
Some white-clad figures appeared on the second-story porch of the hotel. Judge Corey's voice called out, "Who's dying down there, folks?"
"Judge, this is George Brush. Can I see you a minute?"
"Are you all right, boy?"
"Yes."
"Side door's open, Jim. Come up and have a drink."
"I don't drink."
"Come up, anyway, Jim. It's a great big free country."
Brush dashed up the stairs and burst into the room. "Judge," he said, breathlessly. "I want you to lend me your car . . ."
"Jim boy, you just had one."
"I know, but we gotta save a man from killing himself."
"Where is he?" asked the Judge, looking alertly into the hall. "Say, buddy, we can't have any of that around Camp Morgan. What's the matter with him, anyway?"
"I don't know, Judge. He's just not . . . happy."
"Not happy? Is he nuts?"
"No . . . it's . . . it's business, partly. It's the depression."
"Jim," said the Judge, angrily, "now don't you go mentioning the depression. That's what causes all this. Don't you say that word again. Where is the fella?"
"He's getting gas at the station next door."
"All right." The Judge turned and clapped his hands. "Folks, we're going for a ride in the woods. Say, Bush, Bough, Beach—By the way, what's your name, Jim?"
"Brush, George Brush."
"Brush, I want you meet these princes. This is Helma Solario, the best little trouper you could hope to know. Jeannie Socket, Bill Watkins, Mike Kusack. Girls, fellas, shake hands with Bush, friend of my daughter. By the way, Jim, you made a big impression.
"We must hurry, Judge. Really."
"My husband runs that garage," said Helma Solario, a plump black-eyed little woman, in an advanced stage of negligé and intoxication. "Mike, run down and tell him not to give the guy any gas." She went out on the porch and gave further instructions from there. "Bring the dope in here. We'll give him something to live for. Does he play poker? Ask him?"
"Come on, girls, we'd better go after him ourselves," cried the judge.
Brush descended the stairs, four at a time, and caught sight of Roberts driving off. The poker party followed in high spirits. They all climbed into the judge's car. Helma Solario sat on Brush's lap.
"This baby's alive, anyway," said Helma, tickling his ear. "Where do you come from, sweetness?"
"Michigan," replied Brush, peering anxiously into the forest at the right and the left of the road.
"All right, Michigan, when you find this guy tell him life's a big thrill. See? Tell him to stick around; we're going to have some more world wars. He'll love it. Tell him from me the depression's only begun. Next year's going to make this year look sky-high."
"You pay a fine for that," said the judge.
"Has he a family and kids?"
"Yes," said Brush.
"Sure he oughta wait around awhile until his kids grow up and call him an old boob. Why, he doesn't know the half of it yet. Old age is great, too, tell him."
"Now that's enough, Helma," said the judge.
"All right, tell him about the family life and old age of Judge Leonidas Corey. No one can ever say you aren't happy, can they, Leon? Just one damned million after another."
Brush saw Roberts' car drawn up in the undergrowth. "Stop the car, Judge. I've found him. Listen. I can do this alone from now on. Thanks a lot for bringing me here. I won't need you now."
"I want to talk to the fellow," said the judge.
"That'd be the last straw," said Helma. "God! Leave it to Michigan here. Good-by, baby. Tell him life's a big thrill."
The party drove off, leaving Brush still carrying his blanket, to peer about the woods for his friend. The car was empty. The surroundings lay in deep shadow. Brush listened carefully and heard nothing. Finally raising his eyes, he saw Roberts standing on the highest platform of one of the watchtowers. He went over to the foot of the tower and stood looking up.
"Damn it," said Roberts, "there you are again! Go away! Go on home!"
Brush did not answer. He waited for half an hour. Finally Roberts laboriously and awkwardly climbed down the ladder.
"It's getting chilly," muttered Brush. "You might want this blanket."
Roberts stared at him a moment, then started towards his car.
"I'm not going to let you get in the car," said Brush. "I'm stronger than you are."
Roberts began walking through the bushes, with Brush six feet behind him. This journey went on for over an hour. At times they found themselves at the lake's edge. Once they suddenly entered Morganville, where Roberts sat down for ten minutes on someone's front steps while Brush stood out in the middle of the street, tactfully gazing into the distance. Then plunging back into the forest again, they roamed through the clearings. Coming upon one of the picnic havens, Brush cleared his throat and said:
"Why don't you lie down here and get some sleep?"
"I tell you I never do sleep. How do I know I'll ever be able to sleep again?"
"It's two o'clock. I think you'll be able to sleep. I'll build a fire."
Roberts turned and again began stumbling through the trees. Brush caught up with him and seized his arm firmly. "You're not going any farther," he said, in a loud voice. "And you're not going to think any more about these things. I know what you're thinking all the time, and you've got to stop it. The world isn't as bad as you think it is . . . even if it looks bad. Now you lie down on that bench or table, wherever you like. I'm going to make a fire and sit here till morning. If you can't sleep, never mind; just look up through the trees. I shouldn't have let you tramp around with your head full of thoughts like that."
He laid the blanket on one of the benches. Roberts stretched himself on it and turned his contorted face away. After collecting several piles of dry sticks, Brush laid a fire according to the rules that had once gained him a badge in Ludington, Michigan. He sat down and looked into it. He asked, in a low voice: "Can I sing? Do you mind if I sing?" There was no answer. He began to sing softly. He tried "Far above Cayuga's Waters" and "The wings of a dove." He sang "Lie down, little croppies, lie down," and "Cowboy, go back to the hills." From there he went on to almost everything he knew. Finally he must have nodded, for he awoke with a start to find that day was breaking. The birds were beginning to make interrogative noises in the trees. He saw with surprise that an apparently cloudless sky could suddenly reveal itself as covered with soft pink clouds. As Roberts was snoring, Brush nodded off again. When he awoke, Roberts was looking at him. Without saying a word, Roberts picked up the blanket and started off. He was pale and embarrassed. They returned to the camp in silence and went to bed in the tent "Felix."
Brush was a little late for breakfast at table M. He found Judge Corey alone.
"Jim, how did it go?" asked the judge.
"He'll be all right today, Judge."
"You're a prince, Jim. We couldn't have a thing like that happen at Camp Morgan. The doctor came and told me about it. Don't you worry about the car."
Jessie Mayhew stood by Brush. "How do you like your eggs?" she asked.
"Jessie," said the judge, "you give the fella the best of everything the camp's got. Nothing's too good for Jim. . . . My wife and daughter tell me you have a fine voice, too. Jim, young fella, lean your ear over here. I want to ask you something: When are you leaving camp?"
"Sometime this morning."
The judge paused, then began in a cordial and confidential tone: "Jim, young fella, you made a big hit with my daughter, a big hit. I know that little girl and it's not every man that interests her, no, sir. Now listen. I want to give you a little tip. Just between you and I, see? . . . just man to man. That girl ought to have a nice home of her own. See what I mean? You might say she ain't really happy up at our house. Jim, thirty-five thousand dollars goes with that girl. Yes, sir, if she can find a good home, thirty-five thousand dollars goes with her. Depression year, too. Think it over. Yes, and what's more, I'm in a position to settle a young man in some good job around the Capitol, too. Well, that's just between you and I . . . How does it appeal to you, eh?"
Brush turned scarlet. Jessie Mayhew had been placing his cereal and coffee before him. He glanced at her face. "I . . . I hope she finds a good home, Judge," he said.
"Yeah, yeah. Well, think it over, boy, and in the meantime I'll see your school books get a high place. Yes, sir."
Chapter 5
Kansas City. Queenie's boarding-house. First word of Father Pasziewski. George Brush drunk and disorderly.
Brush no longer regarded the farmhouse in Michigan as his home; he had no home, and for that reason when his itinerary brought him to a town or city where he had already made friends, he looked forward to the visit with a more than usual expectancy. Kansas City contained one of these substitute homes. Queenie's—Miss Craven's—boarding-house was a high, narrow, blackened edifice, standing amid the similarly blackened hulks of former mansions near where Eighth Street crosses Pennsylvania and Jefferson Avenues. Here a colony of rooming-houses barely maintains its existence, though near the center of the city, holding out, its broken windows patched with newspaper, its yards full of weeds and overturned bath-tubs, against the last invasion of negro gamblers, cats, and the night quartering of tramps. Queenie's back windows overlooked a cliff strewn with bottles and automobile tires descending to a waste of railroad tracks and the sluggish soot-covered river.
Brush ran up the steps and rang the bell. Queenie came to the door with a mop in her hand.
"Hello, Queenie!"
"Why, Mr. Brush! I'm glad to see you."
"Are any of the fellows home, Queenie?"
"Seems like I heard'm all go out. You can go up and see. Will you be staying here tonight?"
"Yes, Queenie, I'll be here three nights."
"Well, I'll come right up and make your bed. Looks even worse'n usual up there, Mr. Brush, but you know how it is. They say they'll kill me if I clean up any, beyond just making the beds. I wish you'd persuade'm to let me come up and clean around."
"I'll try. Is there any news?"
"Let me think. Mr. Morris got his pay cut over to the hospital; yes, and Mr. Callahan got reduced, too."
Brush descended a few steps: "Has Herb been drinking bad, Queenie?"
"Well, you know I never know what goes on, but I think he's been drinking some. I don't know how it happened, Mr. Brush, but the whole banister come off the staircase the other day. And Mrs. Kubinsky—lives next door—said she saw somebody hanging by their finger nails to the gutter on the roof one night, only he was pulled back at the last minute. 'T's a wonder they're still alive after five years, Mr. Brush, if you ask me, because they're at death's door once a week; that's no zaggeration."
"I know," said Brush, with concern. They looked at one another. Brush added: "We've just got to work on them slowly, Queenie. Never say die. How's Father Pasziewski, Queenie?"
"He's pretty good. He's back on the job again. He takes the seven and nine."
"The kidney trouble just blew over?"
"They think now it was gall stones. Mrs. Kramer gave him some water from the River Jordan and he put it in his tea every day and it melted'm down. I was over to the St. Veronica Guild, serving, and Mrs. Delehanty said that with him, if it wasn't one thing it'd be another, she said. He's not long for this world, she says."
Brush climbed the stairs to the top floor, which his four friends had rented from Queenie in perpetuity. Most of the doors had long been smashed, and after lying about as boards had finally disappeared in smaller and smaller fragments. Several partitions between the rooms contained holes, opened up in some historic rough-house, and now offering the testimony of their splintering edges and crumbling plaster. A smell floated about, made up of foul clothes, antiseptic soap, gin, and lemon-peel. Brush sat down on one of the beds and looked sadly about him. Here lived Herb and Morrie, two newspaper men; Bat, a mechanic in sound pictures; and Louie, a hospital chemist who in hard times had been obliged to descend to the duties of an orderly.
Brush's friendship with these tenants reposed upon a complicated treaty. On his part, Brush promised not to harangue them, unless invited, on religion, temperance, chastity, and tobacco; and they in turn promised to remain within reasonable limits of decency in conversation and in the invention of practical jokes. The cement of this precarious friendship lay in the fact that Brush carried a wonderful second tenor and that the practice of singing in parts constituted their chief pleasure. Brush could do things in the refrain of "Wasting in despair" that threw his companions into an ecstasy that was almost anguish. On the first note at the close of the refrain "If she be not fair to me-ee," he would rise an octave in soft portamento and, holding the note, pass from a whispered falsetto to a golden fortissimo, then, as the three other singers, pale and shaken, moved on to the second note, he would stride majestically down the chord into the bass register. He could phrase "Far above Cayuga's Waters" so that it seemed to allude to some infinitely sad leave-taking, years ago, probably in the depths of a forest, with discouraged horns blowing in the distance. It required all this proficiency, however, to hold the group together. The treaty was drawn up abruptly on the night of Brush's first visit to the boarding-house. He had knelt down beside his bed to say his prayers.
"Either you drop that or you keep out of here forever," they said.
"Well, if I don't do it," he replied, darkly, "remember it's not because I'm a moral coward."
"Oh, get out of here!" cried Louie. "Get out and stay out! Go to hell!"
But the thought of "All through the night" intoned mezzo-voce returned to them; they swallowed their anger and the treaty was drawn up.
Brush now sat on the bed and sadly reviewed the problem presented by the room before him. Queenie entered with the linen.
"If I clean up now, will you protect me against them, Mr. Brush?" she asked, doubtfully.
"Can you do it tomorrow, Queenie? I don't feel awfully well. I'm going to take a nap."
"You don't feel well? Where do you feel bad?"
"It's not anything special. I'm just sick of hotels and trains. I'm sick of lots of things."
Queenie respected dejection. She moved quickly about the bed-making. At last she said: "I've got a coffee-pot on the stove, Mr. Brush. It might peck you up a bit."
"No, thanks," he answered, gazing at the ceiling. He was suddenly surprised to hear himself saying, "Did you ever wish you were dead, Queenie?"
Queenie was immediately aroused. "Now don't you say that! Why, I'm ashamed to hear you say things like that, Mr. Brush. I once said something like that in confession in Spokane, Washington, and Father Lyons almost bit my head off. It's not like you, either."
Brush smiled, abashed. "I was only joking, Queenie. It just jumped out."
"A healthy young man like you, with a fine tenor voice."
Queenie stood by with further reassurances until she noticed that Brush had fallen asleep. She took a step forward, looked at him narrowly a moment, and tiptoed downstairs. As she entered the front hall the door was noisily flung open and Louie rushed in.
"Hello, Queenie!" he cried. "Hitch up your pants, Queenie; the depression's over. They've found a plan to make the ocean fresh water. You'll love it."
"Now don't you go making any noise. Mr. Brush is up in your room, asleep. He's kinda sick, he says."
"What? Jesus sick? Well, well! Say no more. I know how to cure him."
Louie dashed upstairs and had a look at the patient. Brush woke up.
"How the hell did you catch it?" asked Louie, drawing up a chair before him.
"Catch what?"
"You've got it. Fever B-17. Let me feel your pulse."
"I'm all right."
"There's no doubt about it. B-17. Percipient influenza. Where could you have picked it up?"
"Oh, let me alone!"
"Take your choice, immediate recovery or two weeks in bed—and not in this house, either, by God!"
"Aw, just leave me alone, Louie! What's the remedy like?"
"Get over on your own bed—polluting my pillow! You're a stink-hole of germs. I ought to report you."
"What's the remedy like?"
"When did you begin to feel funny?"
"I don't know. Today, yesterday."
"Had any lunch?"
"No."
"Lie down; lie down. I'm going back to the hospital to get the medicine. Queenie'll bring you up a big lunch. Eat as much as possible. You're not supposed to take this medicine on an empty stomach."
"I don't think I've got anything the matter with me."
"What do you know about it? I don't spend my life in hospitals for nothing. Here I am trying to do you a favor, and you go yipping around that you're all right. You're a sick man."
Louis fell down the stairs to the telephone. He was very excited and began calling joyously in all directions. He shared his plans with Herb and Morrie and Bat, and then tore over to the hospital. The idea grew and flowered. By three o'clock several doctors in white coats had climbed Queenie's stairs and held long conversations in German and Latin. A temperature chart had been hung on the wall. Sputum and urine had been put through precipitates. At half-past three the patient, awed and flushed, was sitting up in bed, eating T-bone steaks and creamed potatoes. From time to time he was told to hold his nose and take a swallow of the medicine which stood beside him in a large jar.
"You fellows are princes to go to all this trouble," he said, grinning shyly; then catching sight of Queenie, who was peering anxiously into the room from the landing, he called out: "That's all right, Queenie. I'm better already."
"Now hold your nose again, and drink a lot," commanded Louie. "Dr. Schnickenschnauzer, of Berlin, says you should drink it slow, but the Vienna fellas say you should drink it fast. How do you like it?"
"I guess it's all right."
"Now lie down a minute before you finish it."
"Will I sweat much?"
"Sweat? Baby, your very toe nails'll sweat. You'll steam like a lake in the morning."
"That's good, because I think I'm full of poisons. Up to a month ago I never had a sick day in my life, but lately I haven't been right. It's doing me good already, Queenie."
"I hope so, I'm sure, Mr. Brush."
Queenie had been forbidden to enter the room, but she now managed to sidle in. She went to the medicine-jar and sniffed at it. She turned abruptly and cried out with indignation: "You boys ought to be ashamed of yourselves. I'm ashamed of you doing a thing like that. I suspected you was doing something all along."
"Queenie," said Herb, "you get outa here or we'll break every bone in your body."
"Don't you touch me! I'm ashamed of you all. I've a good mind to put you out of my house."
Herb and Louie picked her up in a sitting position and began to carry her to the stairs. Brush gave a roar and jumped out of bed. He seized hold of her and began to pull her back. For a moment Queenie was being bandied about like the star of an acrobatic troupe. Brush was blazing with energy and vigor. He hurled Louie into a corner and restored Queenie to her feet.
"I'll kill the first person that touches Queenie!" he cried. "Speak up, Queenie. What is it you want to say?"
"You don't know it, Mr. Brush, but just for a joke those boys . . . those boys have gone and made you drunk."
"What!"
"That's not medicine; that's just liquor. That's rum."
Brush let his breath out slowly in astonishment. He lowered his voice: "Am I drunk, Queenie?"
"You go put your head under the tap and it'll pass, most likely."
He sat down on the bed and tried to think. He glanced up somberly at his tormentors; "It's lucky for you I'm a pacifist. If I were a different kind of person I'd break every bone in your body. So this is being drunk. . . . When am I going to begin to do queer things? . . . Herb, you stand out here and tell me about it."
"Aw, George, it's nothing. You'll like it."
"When am I going to see things double? When am I going to start breaking things—banisters and things?"
"You're not going to break things, you poor fool! What d'ya mean? You're not drunk."
"Well, I'm something."
He rose and began striding about the room, shaking his head sharply. He stopped and stood looking at himself in the mirror, frowning. Then turning, he declared, in a loud voice: "Anyway, I can't just stand here and be drunk. Now it's done it can't be helped. I'm even glad it happened, so long as it was accidental like this, because now I'll know what they're talking about all the time. So now let's go somewhere and do something." Here for the fun of it he began lifting tables and chairs with one hand, exclaiming: "Look't this. Look—Herb, come on and try and throw me. I feel like a rough-house. I won't hurt you, any of you. I'm a pacifist, but I feel like a rough-house. I'm the strongest man ever tested in our gym back at college, and I can polish off any cigarette-smoker in ten minutes. Come on! Why don't one of you call me cuckoo? Tell me I'm crazy."
"Aw, dry up, dry up! Let's get the hell out of here. This guy makes me sick," said Bat.
"Let's go out and go places," said Brush. "Let's do something." Suddenly an idea struck him; he turned majestically to Queenie. "Queenie—Queenie Craven—here's five dollars. We are going out. While we are out you get Mrs. Kubinsky who resides next door, and you two clean these rooms like they were—was—offices in a bank. This place is going to be clean for once. You fellows live like hogs and it's gotta stop. You hear me? It's gotta stop! You're the most aimless, shiftless sons-a-bitches in the world. Drink, drink, drink, that's all you do. No wonder you get your salaries cut. Now get out and leave these rooms for a cleaning, because tomorrow you bastards are going to begin your lives all over again."
"Poops to you!" muttered Louie. "Herb, I'm clearing out."
"Stick around. He's only begun. . . . Queenie, if you do, I'll kill you."
Brush leaned forward and lifted Herb by the seat of his trousers. Herb fell on his face. Brush placed his heel on his shoulder blade and began turning it. "Take that back," he ordered. "Go on! Go on! You give the order to Queenie yourself."
Herb caught him by the ankle and threw him. The building shook. All five were in the whirlpool now, but Brush only blazed the more with strength and confidence. He worked his way to his feet and began tossing the tenants against one another, kneading the pile playfully.
Bat struck his funny bone against the floor and fainted. He was resuscitated in great pain. "Gee! I'm sorry," said Brush. "Honest, I apologize. I apologize for all those things I said, too. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I guess I'm . . . drunk, you know, or I wouldn't have. . . . Is it getting better?"
Bat lay down on the bed, holding his elbow.
"Let's sing to him," said Brush, and soon the quartet was leaning over the bed, their arms about one another's shoulders, closing in on some diminished sevenths.
"No more harmony for me," said Herb, "until I get some more of Dr. Schnickenschnauser's in me."
"Then hurry," said Brush. "And I guess I'll have a little more, too. This is the only time in my life that I'll ever touch alcohol, so I'd better be sure I really touched it. I'm going to get it over with, once for all."
They had already had a good deal, but now they fell to for good measure.
"We'd better go down to Queenie's sitting-room, so as not to be in the way of the cleaning." For Queenie and Mrs. Kubinsky had entered with a battery of mops and pails and had begun stacking the furniture. The men gave three cheers each to Queenie and Anna Kubinsky, "the belles of Eighth Street," and went out.
Some sort of great journey took place that night. Rain came on and then the evening, but the party tramped up and down the hills of Kansas City, ran through the parks, and fell rattling over the cliffs. They climbed monuments. They entered newspaper offices and rebuked the press. They swept like crusaders through the lobbies of motion-picture houses. They defiled the City Hall.
The next morning Brush woke up and lay for a long time staring at the ceiling. He felt wonderfully well.
"Louis," he said to his roommate, "did I break anything yesterday?"
"No. Why?"
"Did I insult any passers-by—any women?"
"Not that I know of. Why?"
"I just wanted to know."
He got up and began to shave. It was his custom while shaving to prop up before him a ten-cent copy of King Lear for memorization. His teacher at college had once remarked that King Lear was the greatest work in English literature, and the Encyclopædia Britannica seemed to be of the same opinion. Brush had read the play ten times without discovering a trace of talent in it, and was greatly worried about the matter. He persevered, however, and was engaged in committing the whole work to memory. Now while shaving he boomed away at it.
Herb came in.
"What's the matter, big boy?"
"Herb, was I really tight last night?"
"You certainly were."
"Was I all those things? Was I stewed and boiled and pie-eyed?"
"Yeah. Why?"
Brush examined himself in the mirror, rubbing in the lather. "I've heard about them so much. I just wanted to know."
"Well, what did you think of it?"
Brush leaned against the wash basin and examined the floor. "I don't quite know yet," he said. "All I can say is, no wonder they made prohibition. I didn't know liquor was like that. You know, I felt I was the greatest preacher in the world and the greatest thinker in the world. It made me feel as though I was ready to be the greatest President of the United States. I forgot I had any faults in my character."
"Sure, that's the idea. Baby, you've only just begun. You'll have lots more yet."
"Mmm!"
"Well, listen, big boy. I've got a date for you. Yeah, just the kind of date you like."
"What do you mean?"
"You're always looking for a fine girl, aren't you? You know, to be the mother of your children?"
"You're just wasting your time, Herb. It doesn't get you anywhere to make fun of such things with me. Save your breath, Herb."
"I'm not kiddin' ya. I'm not kiddin' ya. What the hell are you so damned sensitive about?"
"I don't trust you when you try to be serious, Herb. Save your breath."
"Oh, all right, then. Here I come with a perfectly good invitation to go out to Sunday dinner in a nice home with a lot of beautiful girls in the house and you poop all over me. They've got money, too. The nicest girls in Kansas City."
"How'd you meet'm, Herb?"
"Insult me, will ya? Insult me."
"I didn't mean that as an insult. I just asked you."
"You don't know me, George. I've reformed. I'm a serious fella. In fact, if you must know, I'm courting one of these girls. I want to marry and settle down."
Brush kept his eyes on Herb's reflection in the mirror and went on shaving. "Where do they live?"
"MacKenzie Boulevard. Swell mansion. They've got money. Louie and Bat and I got asked to Sunday dinner today, and I told'm about you and they said bring'm along. It's Sunday dinner, big boy, and there'll be lots of eats . . . Well, make up your mind. It's twelve o'clock now and I gotta phone Mrs. Crofut how many's coming."
Brush watched him in the mirror. "Herb, do you promise before God that there's no catch in this?"
"Oh, you give me a pain. Stay home; stay home! Go and eat at the wagon. I hope it chokes ya. I told Mrs. Crofut we'd sing for them. Stay home and spoil the quartet if you like."
"I'll come," said Brush and returned to his Lear. "When thou clovest thy crown i' the middle, and gavest away both parts," he cried, "thou borest thine ass on thy own back o'er the dirt."
"What?" asked Herb. "What's that?"
"I wasn't talking to you. Thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown when thou gavest thy golden one away."
A few minutes later Herb returned. "Well, since you made me promise, George, perhaps I ought to tell you there's a little catch in this . . . just a harmless joker, see? . . . I told'm you were a famous singer, see? They're all excited about it. They think you're a famous singer, like on the radio. A concert singer, and famous."
Brush's answer was composure itself. "That's not a lie," he said. "There must be five thousand people in this country who've been thrilled by my singing at one time or other. That's not a lie." Herb fled from the room, but Brush followed him to the door, razor in hand, and shouted after him: "Why, just the other night at Camp Morgan they were spellbound. I didn't know the human hand could clap so long. I don't say that because I'm conceited, because a fine voice is just a gift. Tell Mrs. Crofut I'll be glad to come."
Chapter 6
Kansas City. Sunday dinner at Ma Crofut's. More news of Father Pasziewski. A moment of dejection in a Kansas City hospital.
Mrs. Crofut certainly lived in a very fine house. If it had any faults at all, it was that the paint lacked freshness and that it was too closely hemmed in by a business college on one side and an undertaking establishment on the other. But apart from that, Brush agreed, it was a very fine home. It rose above the street in a mass of towers and gables and bays and porches. It had not always belonged to Mrs. Crofut—though the Crofuts were a very old family—because the horse-block on the curb said Adams. For some reason a dilapidated electric signboard lay half hidden in the rhododendron bushes; it said: the riviera. cuisine française. The boys entered without ringing the bell, and Brush found himself in a dark hall. He was curious about everything and, pushing aside some reed portières at the left, he saw a large room filled with small tables, as though it had once been a restaurant.
"Well, boys, how are you?" said a large, honest voice emerging from the back of the hall. "This is fine."
"Mrs. Crofut," said Herb, "I want you to shake hands with George Brush, the singer."
"It's a pleasure; and let me tell you we've been looking forward to it a lot. I declare, my daughters have been dolling up for hours. Let's go and sit in the day parlor until my girls come down," she said, alluding to a whispering and twittering of joyous young voices upstairs. Brush glanced up the great staircase, past the stained-glass window, and saw a laughing face peering down between the posts of the balustrade. "Come in here and tell me what you've all been doing with yourselves."
Mrs. Crofut sat down with casual elegance in a huge rattan chair and beckoned them to seats about her. She had a fine large red face surmounted by a carefully built up head of yellow hair. A row of small yellow curls crossed her forehead. She wore a black silk shirtwaist covered with jet beads, and a gold watch was pinned over her lungs. She was an enormous woman, but her waist was remarkably small and she carried her vast bulk with a constant attention to grace. Brush liked her at once and could scarcely take his eyes off her. She was joined a few minutes later by a tall thin girl, likewise with yellow hair.
"This is my girl Lily. . . . Aren't you the bold one! . . . This is Lily, Mr. Brush."
Lily stood squirming and giggling by her mother's chair, staring at Brush.
"Lily's the musical one," continued Mrs. Crofut. "Very sweet voice."
Serious conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a military parade of five more young ladies. They were all of about the same age, sixteen to eighteen, and were very shy and modest. One was a tall dark girl of foreign origin. All of them had one trait in common, a certain vagueness in the eyes, as though it were difficult to focus the glance on a single object. Introductions were not easily gotten over with. There was much staring and blushing and suppressed giggling.
"You have a lot of daughters, Mrs. Crofut, I'll say," said Brush.
"Lord! have I! And this isn't all, by any means, is it, Herbert? The fact is the older girls are eating by themselves upstairs; this is just what I call my kindergarten. You see, Mr. Brush," she said, with intimate complicity, "perhaps they aren't all my daughters; some of them merely make their home with me for the time being. Dolores there is a Cuban girl. Dinner's ready now, so let's go in. Go in, go in, girls. What's the matter with you today? They're as nervous as witches about meeting you, Mr. Brush, that's a fact. They're not themselves."
The company passed through several sitting-rooms and came to a large dining-room at the back of the house. Mrs. Crofut stood behind her chair and directed matters in a large way. "There are thirteen of us," she said, "so May has to sit at a table by herself. We drew lots and May's the goat." May, blushing with confusion and pleasure, seated herself in the bay window and took a drink of water. "Now, Mr. Brush, by rights, you ought to sit by me, but I'm just an old woman and I'm going to set you down among my girls. The girls all want to sit by you and I'm not going to show any favoritism, so suit yourself. I see Herb's going to sit by Gladys, as usual."
Brush did not stop to pick and choose. He found himself between the Cuban girl and a girl called Ruth. Ruth was a soft-eyed girl with brown hair. She wore a simple white dress and scarcely dared raise her eyes from her plate. A number of awkward silences fell during the soup. There was a good deal of unabashed staring. Brush felt he had never seen so many beautiful, quiet girls in one place before. Mrs. Crofut drank her soup with great refinement; with one bejeweled hand she pressed a corner of her napkin to her bosom. From time to time she sipped from a tumbler containing a tonic. As the plates were being removed, anticipation could no longer contain itself and the quartet was called upon for a number. They linked their arms about one another's necks, cleared their throats, frowning, and entered upon "How can I bear to leave thee?" The reception was all that vanity could desire. They followed it with "Wasting in despair," leading up to the famous specialty cadence. The hostesses were lost in admiration and were greatly solemnized. There was no giggling after that. The quartet sat down, itself filled with awe, and the girls almost shuddered to find themselves seated next to so much achievement. Mrs. Crofut collected herself first:
"Have you lived long in these parts, Mr. Brush?" she asked.
"No. My home is in Michigan."
"You don't say! I had a friend . . . Did you ever know a Mr. Pasternak there? He was engaged in the lumber business. He was very well off, really very well off."
"I . . . I don't remember him now."
"You don't? Well, he was a perfect gentleman and I believe, as I say, very well off. It was lumber, I remember now. His name was Jules,—Jules Pasternak." Whereupon she leaned far back in her chair and laughed long and heartily. "Oh," she concluded, wiping her eyes, "I hadn't thought of him for years."
No further information was offered about Mr. Pasternak, but his warming image had passed through the room and henceforth there were no more alarming silences at the table. Lily was sent to push back the curtains at the window.
"Very lovely girl, isn't she?" said Mrs. Crofut.
"Yes indeed," said Brush.
"Lovely girl. She was on the stage for a while."
"Was she?" asked Brush, looking at her with even greater interest. "Was she ever in anything by Shakespeare?"
Lily looked timidly at Mrs. Crofut. "Speak up, dearie. Were you?"
The answer was almost inaudible, but it was "No."
"I guess Mayme would know more about that," continued Mrs. Crofut. "Mayme's a great reader. Nose always in a book. Mayme's our red-head."
Mayme's red head was turned by this praise; she was suddenly seized by a desire to show off. In a high voice rendered hoarse by nervousness she screamed, "I read a story by him just the other day."
"Really," said Brush. "Did he write other things besides theater plays?"
"Shakespeare?" cried Mrs. Crofut, eager to support her daughter. "Why, he wrote every kind of thing. We've got one of his upstairs. Gladys, you're by the door. Run upstairs and get the books."
Her glance rested on Gladys' back as she left the table. "I like that type don't you? Very pretty girl."
"Yes, indeed," said Brush.
"Lovely girl," repeated Mrs. Crofut.
Gladys returned with the books and went back for another that had fallen on the stairs. Their title pages were anxiously consulted. Everyone laughed at the thought that Shakespeare could have had a hand in "The Care and Feeding of Infants" or a bound volume of Ainslee's Magazine for 1903. September Morn at Atlantic City gave no author's name and Barriers Burned Away was attributed to E. P. Roe.
"There!" cried Mrs. Crofut, tapping the back of the novel with a jeweled forefinger. "I could have sworn that was by Shakespeare. I don't know how we could have come to make a mistake like that." Whereupon she went into gales of laughter, politely flinging her napkin over her face while she laughed. The girls laughed softly, proud to see their mother thus at her best; their doe's eyes passed softly from face to face, making sure that everyone was appreciating it.
"Well," she said, finally, "I guess we all like a good play. Mr. Shore, did you ever see Lillian Russell? . . . Sit up straight, Pearl."
"No," said Brush, as soon as he realized that he was being addressed, "I don't think I ever did."
"Oh, she was fine! Beautiful girl."
Lily's voice was raised in a sudden scream. "Ma looks just like her." The other girls burst out into shrill corroboration. Lily continued: "Her room's-covered-with-pictures-of-her. Ma-tells-us-all-about-her. Ma looks-just-like-her."
Mrs. Crofut lowered her eyes. "Well, people did use to say . . . but, of course, it was just foolishness. But let me tell you she was a very fine actress, and I may say, a very fine woman." Then lowering her voice and looking solemnly into Brush's eyes, she added, in a tone implying that only he would understand all the implications of her remark, "I never heard a word, not a word, against her reputation."
"That's fine," said Brush, deeply impressed.
Mrs. Crofut made a rapid transition to the conversational tone. "Herb," she said, "you haven't been around to see me lately. Where've you been keeping yourself?"
"It's the depression," said Herb. "Now I have to go to George Washington Park."
Mrs. Crofut threw up her chin loftily. "Well, be common if you want to. It's none of my business."
Herb made an answer that Brush did not understand.
"Now, boys, none of that," replied the hostess. "Eat your dinner. Just good clean fun today. We're having a good time. Just eat your dinner."
This was the first of a number of strange things that began to happen. Brush became more and more confused, but pinning his faith on Mrs. Crofut, whom he liked with increasing force, he bore up as best he could. A policeman sauntered into the room without removing his hat. He was greeted by cries of "Hello, Jimmy." He took a certain liberty with one of the young ladies sitting near him.
"Now don't go behaving like that, Jimmy," said Mrs. Crofut. "There's a surprise package for you in the kitchen."
"You don't say," said Jimmy, and disappeared from the scene.
The next unexpected thing was caused by Dolores. Brush had tried to engage her in conversation several times. On each occasion she had raised sullen eyes to his face for a moment, muttered a few words, and returned to her meal. The third time, however, she rose abruptly to her feet, overturning the chair behind her, and slapped him smartly across the face. She then ran to the door, turned, hissed and spat in his direction, and ran down the perspective of drawing-rooms.
Mrs. Crofut was horrified. She rose and followed Dolores through the room, screaming: "Go upstairs, Dolores. Go upstairs, you slut. You're a nasty slut. I'll give you something to learn you a lesson!" Then returning breathless to her place, she said: "Why, Mr. Shore, I'm so ashamed I don't know what to say. Imagine a thing like that! Here we were, having a nice home-like Sunday dinner, and that girl has to behave like that! However, don't give it another thought. These things will happen. Now we'll forget all about it. Tchk-tchk! You see, Mr. Shore, I have my troubles, like every one else."
"Yes," said Brush. "But you have what they call a silver lining. I never saw a home with so many nice and good-looking girls in it."
"Thank you," said Mrs. Crofut, sitting up very straight and getting a little more ruddy. "That's a real compliment coming from a great singer like you. I do think they're pretty nice girls, if I do say so myself."
"Wow!" cried Morrie, and bent his head to the floor, coughing and choking.
Mrs. Crofut rose, trembling with rage. "Now you behave yourself, young man. I don't care what you think and I don't like the way you're laughing. I don't care what you think. Answer me! Do I, or do I not, keep a careful eye on my girls? Do I, girls?"
"Yes, ma," said six tinkly voices.
"Answer me, Morrie!"
"Aw, ma, you get me wrong," said Morrie. "I wasn't laughing at you. I was laughing at Brush here."
"Well, if you had the gentlemanliness that he has, you wouldn't be making a fool of yourself in public places. Here we are, all friends, eating together and . . . and you have to bring in ideas like that. It doesn't give a very good idea of the home you come from, I must say."
"Mrs. Crofut," said Brush, "I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt your feelings. He's a very fine fellow, and I don't mind if he laughs at me."
Mrs. Crofut sat down slowly, still glaring at Morrie. A shocked silence fell upon the group. The girls sat with lowered eyes; one of them cried for a moment and then hurriedly brushed away her tears. But the affair had not blown over. Mrs. Crofut rose again and, pointing emotionally at Morrie, said:
"Come, tell me! What did you mean by that laugh? I won't have things like that said about me. I won't have it. Either I'm like a mother to these girls, or I'm not. Do I keep an eye on them, or don't I?"
Suddenly Herb's voice, flat and contemptuous, said: "Quit the high horse, ma. Who do you think you are?"
Now Brush stood up in his place, white with rage: "Herb, if you try that kind of thing I'll take you right out and turn the hose on you. I didn't know you were so crude. You've got a long way to go before you're fit to associate with people that live in homes.—Excuse me, Mrs. Crofut, and I apologize for him, too."
"That's all right, Mr. Shore," said Mrs. Crofut, who had sunk back into her chair and was sniveling into her tonic. "I don't expect any decency from a fellow like that, I'm sure."
"Come on," said Herb, "come on and fight it out, you goddamn simp, you. Come on outdoors and fight it out."
"There's no use your fighting with me, Herb. You're as weak as water. Your cigarettes have done for you. You saw that last night."
Bat went over to Herb. "Sit down, Herb. Sit down. We'll tell him later. It's all right. We'll tell him later."
This altercation was followed with the liveliest interest by the young ladies. It brought the colored cook to the door, where she stood meditatively picking her teeth. When it blew over there was a general air of disappointment in the room.
Brush said, gravely: "I guess the best of friends quarrel every now and then. It doesn't mean that they're any the worse persons; it only means that human nature isn't raised up yet to what we hope it's going to be. I'm really fond of Herb and I'm sorry I spoke to him that way. Sometime the day's coming when there aren't going to be any quarrels, because in my opinion the world's getting better and better. And in spite of this little thing that's happened, today has been an example of it. I want to thank you very much for taking me into your home this way. Most of my life is spent on trains and in hotels and I appreciate it; so I want to do something for you in return. Generally, I don't believe in going to the theater, and especially not on Sundays. But I think I know when to make an exception, and can see when nobody's really harmed by it. I want to invite you all as my guests to the movie around the corner that opens at four o'clock."
"Well, now," said Mrs. Crofut, "that's real nice of you. Girls, would you like to go to the movies with Mr.—"
"Brush."
"With Mr. Brush?"
There were squeals of enthusiasm.
"Now, Mr. Brush, I can't go myself, but my girls accept with pleasure. Let me whisper in your ear a minute. Mr. Brush, I don't want the girls to be any expense to you. I'll give them each some pocket money and they'll pay their own. You can pay for one, if you like."
"But, Mrs. Crofut, I asked them. I want to pay for them."
"No, no. I know better. All boys your age have quite a time making two ends meet. You save your money."
Brush submitted to this arrangement and presently he was proceeding down the street in a twitter of young feminine voices. His companions walked with an exaggerated primness, waving their hips delicately from side to side. They all talked at once, each trying to get his agreement to any thought that occurred to her.
Everything interested them. They followed closely an educational reel depicting the Vale of Cashmere, and another that showed a Boy Scout congress and a train wreck. The President of the country spoke a few words and they all agreed he was a very nice man. The principal picture on the program was pathetic, and they all cried happily and generously. Brush's handkerchief passed back and forth among them. It was about a beautiful girl threatened by the dangers that lurk in great cities. It was full of suspense. The girls sitting beside Brush insisted on clinging to him; he found himself holding two hot convulsed hands on his knees. When Brush returned the girls to their home each one in turn flung her arms about his neck and printed rouge on his cheeks. Each declared she had enjoyed it very much and would be waiting for him to come again. She'd be waiting.
Brush was so dizzy with well-being that he was obliged to take a long walk to calm himself. "It just goes to show my favorite theory that the world's full of wonderful people," he said to himself, "if you know where to look." When he returned to Queenie's it was almost nine o'clock. The disarray on the scrubbed top floor had begun again. The rooms were billowing with Sunday papers. The tenants sat about with their heels above the level of their heads. They were in a sour humor.
"Well, baby," said Herb, "you had a great time, eh?"
"I certainly did."
Herb asked an obscene question. It was taken up and furthered by the others.
Brush stared at them in consternation: "You fellows promised not to pull that kind of thing."
"All promises are off," said Herb.
Brush stood still for a moment, then dragged his suitcase out of the cupboard and began packing.
"You've had a pretty good two days," said Herb, "all told. Pretty good for you. You got so cock-eyed drunk on Saturday that you puked on the War Memorial, and on Sunday you raped a whole cat-house. Pretty fast, kid, pretty fast."
Brush raised his eyes and looked at him, but said nothing. Herb let him have it again.
"That's not true," said Brush.
"Not true? What do you know about it? Gad! you're the simplest galoot in the world. You're so simple, you stink."
Kneeling by his suitcase, Brush scarcely raised his eyes. "Were those . . . fallen women?"
"Fallen? You couldn't get'm more fallen."
"Herb, you promised there was no catch in it!"
"All promises went out with daylight-saving time," said Herb, dryly. He flung out the pages of his newspaper and went on reading. The room was silent. Brush, began to cry. He jumped up with sudden passion: "It can't be true. They weren't. You fellows don't know what you're talking about. I say they're perfectly all right and that's the kind of thing I don't make any mistake about. You fellows can't say things like that to me, just because you . . . Listen, Herb, it can't be true."
"It's gotta be true," said Herb, coldly scanning the headlines.
Brush marched wildly up and down the room. Suddenly, with a shout, he picked up a chair and, pointing the four legs horizontally before him, crashed them through the window-pane.
Louis whistled. "Tz-tz-tz! Naughty!" he said.
Brush stood by the window, looking out over the housetops. "You fellows pretend you don't know what it's all about, but you know. You're just pretending. You spend your whole life pretending it's not serious. . . . I wish I were there talking to them now. . . . I'm glad I went, I thank you very much."
Herb arose and, hitching up his pants, took his place in the middle of the room. "Take off your coat," he said. "I've got an account to settle with you. Come on, take off your coat and fight it out."
"I don't fight, Herb. Hit me, if you like."
"You'll fight. You'll fight, all right," said Herb, advancing.
Brush raised his arms passively to defend himself. The others joined in. They drew him down and stamped on him. In a paroxysm of hatred they kicked him and threw him downstairs and left him on the pavement. Louie curtly telephoned his hospital, and the ambulance took him away, unconscious.
The next morning Queenie called on him in his ward. She entered, ill at ease in hat and gloves, and casting alarmed glances about her. Catching sight of Brush's head, almost entirely bound with bandages, she crossed herself, then sat down and gazed at him. Brush smiled at her, sadly.
"Here's your suitcase and purse, Mr. Brush. It musta fallen out of your pocket some way. They told me to bring it to you."
"Thanks, Queenie."
"Are you in any pain, Mr. Brush?"
"No."
"Why, you look all knocked about. What did you do to'm to make'm all set on you like that? I knew they were wild boys, but I didn't think they'd try to break your bones, Mr. Brush."
Brush did not answer.
Queenie began to cry. "I told'm to pack up their things and go. I told'm I didn't want no hoodlums like that in my house. I told'm to get right out."
"No, no, Queenie. You let them stay. I'll explain to you some day." There was a pause. "Are they packing, Queenie?"
"I told'm to, but I guess they aren't packing very fast. They just told me to shut up and get out. But I'll let 'em stay if you say so, Mr. Brush. With these hard times I don'o' who I'd find. Mrs. Kubinsky—lives next door—'s had four rooms empty ever since August."
Queenie's tears were drying already. A giggle began to appear. "I declare you look funny with that rabbit's ear on your head, Mr. Brush. I'm glad you're in no pain."
"This is the hospital Louie works in, isn't it?"
"Yes. I saw'm in the hall when I come in. I declare he didn't look natural in white pants and coat."
"What did he say to you?"
"Oh . . . mostly hello."
"When you go out I wish you'd tell him to come and see me for a minute."
There was a pause.
"How's Father Pasziewski, Queenie?"
"I told you, Mr. Brush. He seems pretty well again. Funny, your asking about him so much, because he always asks about you, too."
Brush almost sat up. "Does he? . . . How?"
"Yes, I told him a lot about you once and he's very interested in you."
Brush lay back and looked at the ceiling. "The kidney trouble just got better of itself?" he asked, softly.
"They think now it was gall stones and they were melted down by drinking tea with some drops of the River Jordan in it. Mrs. Kramer was saving it for the christening of her grandchildren, but we think now maybe there aren't going to be any grandchildren, so Father Pasziewski got the benefit of it."
"Some day . . . tell Father Pasziewski I . . . I think of him a lot."
"Yes, I will. Can I write a card for you to somebody, Mr. Brush?"
"No, Queenie . . . there's nobody."
Queenie went out. Later in the day Louie passed through the ward. Brush whistled to him.
Louie drew up beside the bed and whispered in his ear: "You give me the belches. Hurry up. What do you want?"
"Louie, sit down a minute. I want to ask you a question."
"Well, hurry up about it. I've gotta go and get some arms and legs."
"Louie, tell me what's the matter with me?"
"You've no brains, that's all. God didn't give you any brains."
"I know." After a breath or two he looked at Louie. "What ought I to do about it?"
"Sure. Snap out of it. Get awake. Get wise to yourself."
"Sure, I want to. I don't know how to go about it, that's all. . . . There must be something serious the matter with me, because that's the third time people have suddenly hated me. . . . I must have some kind of brains, though, because I just got a raise, even in a panic year . . . and my grades were good at school; they were the best."
Louie put his face close to Brush's ear. "You'll learn in time. I guess you'll find your place in time, see? Only don't come around us any more. We got our own ideas and our own lives all arranged, see? and we don't like to be interrupted."
"Did the fellows say that?"
"Yes. Yes."
"All right. . . . So I suppose this is good-by. Only, listen. If ever you fellows change your minds and want to sing some more, drop me a line, will you?—Caulkins and Company."
"Listen, George. You asked me what you could do. All right, listen. Get to be one of the fellas. Learn to drink, like anybody else. And leave other people's lives alone. Live and let live. Live and let live. Everybody likes to be let alone. And run around with the women. You're healthy, aintya? Enjoy life, see? You're going to be dead a long time, believe me."
Louie had not noticed that Brush was slowly rising to a sitting position. Brush's voice now rose in an answer that grew to a shout in the full open ward:
"You can get away and stay away," he cried. "If I ever became like you fellows I'd expect to be dead a long time. I may be cuckoo, perhaps I am; but I'd rather be crazy all alone than be sensible like you fellows are sensible. I'm glad I'm nuts. I don't want to be different. Tell the fellows I'll never change—"
"All right. Pipe down!"
"And if they want to have me back, they must have me as I am, only worse."
By this time the nurse had run up with a hypodermic. "This is a mental case," she exclaimed. "Help me, Louie. He ought to be in the annex. Hold his arm, Louie."
"I'll take it quietly, nurse. I'm sorry I lost my temper."
"You've gone and upset all the patients. Look at them staring at you!"
"I want to say just one more thing, nurse," he said, and shouted after the departing Louie: "And if you must know, I'm not crazy. It's the world that's crazy. Everybody's crazy except me; that's what's the matter. The whole world's nuts."
Chapter 7
Three adventures of varying educational importance: the evangelist; the medium; first steps in ahimsa.
On being discharged from the hospital Brush set out again on that long swing of the pendulum between Kansas City and Abilene, Texas, that was his work. At Abilene he waited his turn in the halls of Simmons University, McMurray College, and Abilene Christian College. He visited Austin College at Sherman, Baylor College at Belton, and Baylor University at Waco. He visited Daniel Baker College and Howard Payne College at Brownwood; he visited the Texas Teachers College at Denton, Rice Institute at Honston, Southwestern University at Georgetown, and Trinity University at Waxahachie. He looked in at Delhart and Amarillo. He went down to San Antonio to see Our Lady of the Lake and to Austin to place an algebra at St. Edward's University. Returning through Oklahoma, he visted the state university at Norman, the Baptist University at Shawnee, the college at Chickasha, the Agricultural and Mechanical College at Stillwater. He digressed into Louisiana and called at Pineville and Ruston; he spent a solitary Christmas in Baton Rouge. Arkansas tempted him to Arkadelphia and Clarksville and Onachita. And everywhere on his journeys he selected certain high schools in strategic positions where the employment of his textbooks could serve as influential examples for smaller schools in the neighborhood.
Many unusual adventures befell him during these weeks. Of the great number we select three that illustrate certain stages in his education.
On the train that carried him from Waco to Dallas he occupied himself with reading a second-year algebra that had recently been placed upon the market by a rival publishing-house. Such reading held for Brush an element of suspense. He lived in fear lest some other firm bring out a better series of textbooks than those issued by Caulkins and Company, a contingency that would greatly impair the energy and serenity of his sales talk. He knew that his books were the best books obtainable, because he had himself read them, done all the problems, verified the answers, translated the sentences, and compared the methods with the methods employed by all the rival books in good standing. At this moment he was discovering with considerable relief that Dr. Ryker of the Worcester, Massachusetts, high schools was fumbling badly with the problem of rendering negative fractions comprehensible to fifteen-year-old boys and girls; that Dr. Ryker had no skill in contriving attractive and stimulating problems about racing airplanes and the hands of clocks; and that Dr. Ryker had all too clearly helped himself to the superior inspirations of Dr. Caulkins. Brush was deep in these matters when he heard a voice say:
"Young man, have you ever thought seriously about the great facts of life and death?"
He looked up to see leaning over him a tall unshaven man of fifty, wearing a soiled linen suit. A handkerchief was stuffed into the band of his collar and his cuffs were protected by black cotton guards. He had a white-and-yellow waterfall mustache and black steely eyes.
"Yes," said Brush.
The man removed a newspaper from beside Brush and sat down. "Are you right with God—this very minute?" he asked, putting his arm along the back of the seat in front of him and his nose very close to Brush's face.
"Yes," said Brush, beginning to blush violently, "I try to be."
"Oh, my boy," said the other, with a strong vibrato and an odor of decaying teeth, "you can't answer that question as quickly as that. No one can. Being saved,—oh, my boy!—isn't as easy as being vaccinated. It means wrestling. It means fighting. It means going down on your knees." He took hold of the lapel of Brush's suit and fingered it disparagingly. "I can see that you're still entangled with the world's snares and shows. Boy, do you touch liquor?"
"No."
"Do you use filthy tobacco?"
"No."
The man lowered his voice. "Do you frequent loose women?"
"No," said Brush, expelling the poisoned air from his nose.
"Do you indulge in lascivious thoughts?"
Brush coughed.
"Yes, sir," cried the man. " 'Let him who thinketh he stand, beware lest he fall.' The trouble with you is you're puffed-up. You're stiff-necked. Do you know the Good Book?"
"I study it."
"What's Romans five one?"
" 'Therefore, being justified through faith, we have peace with God, through—"
"No. No, it's not."
"I . . . I think it is."
"No. By faith. . . . Therefore, being justified by faith. . . ."
"Yes, I guess it is."
"You guess it is," said the other, producing a Bible and striking Brush sharply on the knee with it. "Is that the way to talk about God's word? You guess it is?—Philippians three thirteen?"
" 'Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do . . . ' "
"Yes, go on."
" 'Forgetting the things which are behind . . . ' "
" 'Those things.' "
" 'And reaching forth to those things which are before, I press toward the mark . . . ' "
"I didn't ask for the fourteenth verse. Brother, you don't know it. You think you know it. You guess you know it. The trouble with you is you're shallow. You haven't even begun yet. Oh, brother, I've had great experience with suffering, sinning men and women, and I want to tell you it's not enough to say that you've been saved."
Brush's eyes began guardedly to look about him for another seat. The man raised his voice and waved his arms about:
"I've been in the vineyard twenty-five years, wrestling with the devil. Yes, the world's full of suffering, sinning brothers and sisters. But there's a way to peace and mercy. Why don't you take it? Why don't you stretch out your hand and take it, instead of sitting around in city clothes like a Pharisee . . ."
The man had now risen and was addressing the car. Brush started to edge out by his knees. "Running away from conscience, eh? Can't face it, eh? You'd rather sit there and pass for perfect, I know."
Voices from the back of the car broke in on him. "Aw, shut up! Go to sleep!"
"Brethren, fire and sword can't frighten me as long as I have a message."
Brush took another seat and opened the algebra. He was blushing and his heart was beating quickly. The evangelist, under a gathering storm of resentment from his fellow passengers, continued to harangue the car, using Brush as an example of moral cowardice. He began striding up and down the aisle, retorting to the jeers of his listeners. Brush, furiously biting the inner sides of his cheeks, finally rose and, taking the evangelist's arm, firmly directed him to a seat.
"You don't do any good making them mad," he said, and sitting down by the aisle, penned the other in beside the window. The evangelist continued with fiery eyes to fling some charges over his shoulder, but the controversy died down and he fell to muttering and grumbling to himself.
At last Brush said, "May I ask you some questions?"
"Brother, I'm here to help you."
"Have you a church somewhere?"
"No, brother, I'm a wandering witness for the Lord."
"Do you set up a tent?"
"No. I help my laboring brothers out. I use their churches. I take services for them."
"What do you—what do you live on?"
The other turned and peered at him with great displeasure. "What kind of a question is that? Brother, that's none of your business."
Brush stared gravely back at him.
"However," continued the other, "I'll tell you. The Lord doesn't neglect his workers. No, sir-reee, no, sir. He touches the hearts of people here and there, sometimes one place, sometimes another. Money? What's money? Brother, I don't believe in money. Matthews six twenty-five. This minute, boy, I have one dollar between me and the birds of the air," he said, emptying his pockets and producing two dollar bills, a clergyman's railroad pass, and a soiled letter addressed to the Reverend James Bigelow. "Two dollars between me and the fowls of the air. But am I afraid? No. I live by faith and prayer. Psalms thirty-seven twenty-five."
"Have you a family?"
"Yes, boy, I have a noble wife and six fine children."
It seemed, however, that Dr. Bigelow's wife had found it best to take a place as laundress in a Dallas hotel. At first it appeared that the six children were doing well in school. But gradually it came out that the oldest two boys had run away, another had joined the navy, and that one daughter was bedridden; that left two children doing well in school.
Dr. Bigelow's assurance was considerably diminished under Brush's questioning. When they arrived at Dallas, Brush gave him ten dollars and, with lowered eyes, shook hands with him and took his leave.
Another adventure of this order took place at Fort Worth. Brush was taking an evening stroll through the residential section of the city, preparatory to settling down at the Public Library over the Encyclopædia Britannica, when he noticed a sign in the window of a faded brick apartment-house: "Spiritualistic Readings. Mrs. Ella McManus, medium. Tuesday and Friday evenings or by appointment. Fifty cents." It was a Friday evening. Brush wandered about the house for a time, hesitating. Around the corner, in another window of what appeared to be the same apartment, he saw a card that read: "Varicose Veins Reduced: Consultation Free." Finally he decided to go in. He was ushered into an overfurnished parlor in which a number of women were already seated. Mrs. McManus introduced herself; she was a short, stout woman with an air of importance and bad temper. After a prolonged conversation about the weather the company adjourned to the dining-room and sat down about the table, holding hands. The lights were turned off and a gramophone played "The Rosary." Presently Mrs. McManus began to shudder violently, and an Indian chief named Standing Corn addressed the company through her lips. He gave a stirring description of the next world, following it with some words to earthbound spirits exhorting them to courage and patience. He rapped on the table at command, threw a tambourine across the room and caused a picture to fall from the wall. He then offered to answer any questions put to him. Mrs. McManus had already secured the names and birthdays of the visitors, and now required to hold in her hand some object belonging to each of the questioners. She took the wrist watch of the woman at Brush's right, a Mrs. Caufman, and clutching it passionately to her bosom, gave her messages of the most convincing nature, referring by name to a host of departed relatives, giving the hiding-places of lost objects, and offering advice on intimate matters. The next interview was of a more general nature. A widow wished for a few words from her husband. The message was comforting in the extreme, but the widow wept the whole time so heartbrokenly that she was scarcely able to muster sufficient voice to return thanks to Chief Standing Corn and Mrs. McManus.
Brush sat with lowered head and furrowed brow.
Mrs. McManus asked: "Have you a question to put tonight, Mr. Brush, across the veil that separates but for a time the living and the dead?"
Brush hesitated. Then he said, "I'd like to speak to Dwight L. Moody."
There was a long pause. It was broken by Mrs. McManus intermittently assuming a voice even farther in the bass than that employed by Chief Standing Corn. Mr. Moody said that he was happy. " 'Oh, so happy. Where I am all is peace. Peace like the world cannot give.' What would you like to ask Mr. Moody?"
Brush gazed darkly before him and did not answer.
"I have another message from Mr. Moody for you. He says: 'Take care of your health.' And he seems to wish to send you a word about some one you love . . . I think it's a woman. . . . Yes, it is, and her name begins with an M—an M, I think. Do you know who that would be?"
"No."
"Well, perhaps it's an R. It will come more clearly directly. He says do nothing hasty just now. Especially the money way. Save, or put away in very conservative investments, he says. And wait. He says—I know our other friends here won't mind my repeating this personal word—there's a certain woman that's come into your life lately . . . rather on the blond side, I should say. . . . You should find out slowly whether she's a true friend or not. He says to be cautious in all letters you write. Now he's gone. No! he says to keep up your courage. He's waiting for you up yonder. It won't be long, he says, because up there fifty years is like a minute."
"If that was anybody," said Brush, somberly, "it wasn't the Moody I meant. I meant Dwight L. Moody."
"I hope Chief Standing Corn didn't make an error," said Mrs. McManus, a little sharply. "Of course, there are thousands of the dead by the name of Moody."
The telephone rang in the parlor.
"Will you answer the phone, Mrs. Caufman," said Mrs. McManus, dreamily, "and ask the party to call later?"
"Mrs. McManus is in the spirit world," reported Mrs. Caufman. "and asks that you call later." Then after a pause, in a lowered voice: "Not now! Anyway, not now! Don't y'understand? . . . First lukewarm, then cold. Yes. And massage downward, not up; down. Yes. Yes." Then returning to her chair, Mrs. Caufman said, deferentially, "The gentleman says he will call later, Mrs. McManus."
Brush sat up straight.
At the close of the meeting the others brought out their half-dollars and were emotionally thanking Mrs. McManus, when Brush said:
"I can't pay you for this evening, Mrs. McManus."
"What do you mean you can't pay me?" asked Mrs. McManus, turning very red and marching toward him.
"I mean: I have the money and everything, but I can't pay you for something you haven't earned. If you tell me the name of some church you go to, I'll send the money to that church, but I can't give it to you."
"Now wait a minute," she replied, going to the door, shutting it firmly, and standing with her back to it. "Girls, I want you to wait a minute and hear this with me."
"I can't pay you for a fraud, Mrs. McManus. It wouldn't be fair."
"Did you say I was a fraud?"
"Well, Mrs. McManus . . . you know you are. I couldn't help hearing Mrs. Caufman at the telephone. That showed she was an old friend of yours. And all that about Dwight L. Moody. I couldn't pay you for that."
Mrs. McManus turned coldly to Mrs. Caufman. "Cora," she said, "phone for the police. Mr. Brush, if you try to leave the room I'll scream so the whole house'll be in here. . . . One minute, Cora, I'll phone, myself. It's too late to get out of it now, young man. I'll sue you. I'll sue you for everything you've got. I thought you were phoney, sitting there with that . . . that pie face of yours. I thought it was funny, a man of your type coming to a meeting like this, instead of tending to your own business. The minute you came in that door, I said to myself you were phoney. You and your Moodys! Well, it's the last time you'll insult me."
"I want you to call the police, Mrs. McManus," said Brush, "so they can warn other people against being given wrong ideas."
Mrs. McManus flung open the door majestically. "Now go!" she cried, "and never put your silly head in my door again. Girls, I want you to look at this man closely. If ever you see him again interfering with anybody, I don't care who it is, I want you to have him arrested. Look at him well! Do you see him?"
"Yes," said the terrified girls.
"Here I am doing a good work . . . as best I can, to the limit of my abilities . . . and that doubter, that atheist,—for that's what he is, an atheist. . . ."
Still Brush did not go. He stood in the doorway, lost in deep thought, his eyes resting on Mrs. McManus. At last he slowly put his hand in his pocket and drew out half a dollar.
"I guess I'd better give you this, after all," he said, slowly, "since I stayed. But I don't see how you can do it, Mrs. McManus. What I don't see is, what goes on in your head while you're making up these things. I mean, I don't understand how people can tell lies for long at a time. . . . I guess it's just human . . ."
"I don't want your money!" screamed Mrs. McManus.
Brush laid the money on the table and continued talking, half to himself, "I've got a lot to learn yet, I see."
He said good night to each of the ladies by name and took a long walk through the suburbs of Fort Worth, thinking the matter over.
The third adventure took place in a small town in Arkansas, Pekin. Brush called in the evening on a family, the Greggs, whom he had met on a previous trip. He arrived just as the younger members of the family were setting out to attend a church social. He accepted their cordial invitation to go with them, and he and Louise Gregg started off, stopping on the way to pick up a former English teacher of Louise's in the grade schools, a Miss Simmons. Miss Simmons turned out to be a vivacious elderly lady, given to more affectations than Brush could have wished. Their destination lay on the other side of the railroad tracks, and crossing the waste of rails, they could see the brightly lighted windows and wide-open door of the Sunday-school rooms. It was a bright moonlight night and the three of them stopped among the switches to admire the red and green signal lights in the near and far distance and to catch the sound of some singing voices that were approaching along the ties.
"Let's go along," said Miss Simmons. "It's those Cronin boys."
The Cronin boys recognized their former teacher and began inserting into their song a muffled version of an obscene nickname that had been attached to her for thirty years.
"Good evening, Bill. Good evening, Fred and Jarvis," said Miss Simmons.
They returned a mock deferential "Good evening, Miss Simmons," but, suddenly aware of their recent release from the long and hated years of schooling, they grew bolder and began in falsetto to address one another as Miss Simmons, with the epithet, and with the invention of new material.
Brush walked over to them and in a changed voice said, "You fellows have got to apologize for that."
"Who says so?" asked Bill Cronin, putting his hand in his belt.
Miss Simmons called: "Oh, Mr. Brush! Oh, Mr. Brush! D-don't speak to them. The Cronin boys have always been impolite, rude boys."
"I do," said Brush. "You apologize to Miss Simmons right now."
Bill Cronin made a further remark, and Brush with a wide sweep of his arm struck him behind his left ear and knocked him down. The other two drew back a few steps and stared at their brother. Bill groaned and twisted on the tracks. Then rose on all fours.
"Apologize to Miss Simmons, all three of you," said Brush.
Bill Cronin mumbled an apology and the other two joined in.
Brush rejoined his companions. "I'm sorry about that," he said.
Miss Simmons was hysterical. "I think they're terrible. They always were terrible. . . . I think I must sit down."
Whereupon she sat down on the tracks. Brush fanned her with his hat. Over his shoulder he looked at the Cronins.
Bill was sitting on the ground. His brothers were leaning over him, whispering. Finally they lifted him up, and supporting him between them they guided him unsteadily toward the town.
"I'm all right now," said Miss Simmons.
"Are you sure?" asked Brush.
"Oh yes, I'm all right now."
"Then if you'll excuse me, I'll . . . be back in a few minutes," said Brush.
He caught up with the Cronins, who had sat down to rest on the platform of the freight station.
"How do you feel?" he asked. "I didn't mean to hurt you bad."
They were silent, avoiding his earnest glance.
"I don't believe in hitting people," he continued. "Do you think you're hurt any?. . . . Did it give you a headache?"
There was another silence. Bill Cronin grunted and put his feet on the ground; the other two put their shoulders under his arms and the three began hobbling off.
"After all," continued Brush, "that was a pretty dirty thing you said about Miss . . . Miss What's-her-name. You know you oughtn't to do that. Won't you shake hands, Cronin?"
Bill Cronin, with bent head, mumbled something, and the march continued.
Brush called out: "If there's any doctor bills, I'd like to pay them. You can get my address from Louise Gregg."
When Brush entered the Sunday-school rooms he was met with great acclaim. Miss Simmons had fainted away on her arrival and the whole story had been retold many times. Everyone was talking at once: "It's time someone gave those boys a lesson. . . . They're just the biggest rowdies in town. . . . He's been sent to the penitentiary once already and now he ought to go again."
Brush accepted the tributes in silence. His face had turned very red. The minister could not put the chivalrous act out of his mind. An hour later, during the refreshments, he made a speech, calling attention to the qualities in George Brush of a "true gentleman." He concluded by saying:
"Mr. Brush, won't you say a few words to us?"
Brush, deeply troubled, stood up and fixed his gaze on a light at the end of the room. He was thinking so hard that he seemed to forget where he was. At last he said:
"If I can help it, I don't like to contradict anything that a minister says . . . but I've been thinking about what happened out on the tracks, and I ought to say to you all that I'm sorry I did it. I'm really a pacifist and I don't believe in striking anybody. In the first place, it's too easy. And now that I hear that the Cronin boy has been to the penitentiary, I feel still worse about it."
"But—but, Mr. Brush! The man was rude to Miss Simmons. I understand that what he said was almost an insult."
Brush kept his eye on the light and said, slowly: "It's a hard thing to think clearly about. . . . I guess we ought to have let him insult her. You see, Mr. Forrest, the theory is this: if bad people are treated kindly by the people they insult, why, then they start thinking about it and then they become ashamed. . . . That's the theory. That's Gandhi's theory."
Mr. Forrest said, sharply: "When a lady's insulted, Mr. Brush, it's no time for a gentleman to talk about theories. You know what we think of Southern womanhood down here. We don't agree with you."
Brush brought his eyes back from the distance and fixed them on the minister.
"Well, I think the world's in such a bad way that we've all got to start thinking all over again," he said, with mounting force. "I think all the ideas that are going around now are wrong. I'm trying to begin all over again at the beginning." He turned to Louise Gregg, and said: "I've hit somebody today and I'm not fit to be here, so I'll say good-by, Louise. I guess I'd better go."
He took his hat off the rack in the hall, and crossing to the middle of the railroad tracks, he stood for a long while at the scene of the crime, thinking.
Chapter 8
Kansas City. The Courting of Roberta Weyerhauser. Herb's Legacies.
During the days following his discharge from the hospital in Kansas City Brush had given much thought to the problem of finding Roberta. One day his eye had fallen on the advertisement of a private detective agency. He called upon the manager and laid most of the facts before him. Now after many forwardings a letter from the agency reached him. It gave the address of the farmhouse and added that one of the daughters in the home, a Miss Roberta Weyerhauser, had left the farm over a year ago, coming to Kansas City and had found employment as a waitress at the Rising Sun Chop Suey Palace.
On the first noon following his return to the city, Brush hurried to the restaurant for lunch. He climbed a narrow staircase, and on the second floor entered a large room hung with Chinese lanterns. The floor rose in gradually ascending levels about a central space reserved for dancing. On each tier there was a ring of tables for the diners. Brush seated himself at one of the tables on the highest level and looked about him. There were five waitresses standing about, and looking at them closely, he decided that any one of them might be Roberta Weyerhauser. They were dressed in a vaguely Chinese costume that included red satin trousers. A disc of rouge had been drawn on each cheek and their eyebrows had been painted in an upward curve at the outer edges. The waitress who came forward to take Brush's order was a tall bony girl with a mass of disheveled hair and a sullen expression.
"What'll you have?" she asked.
Brush scanned the card. "What's specially good?" he asked, slowly.
" 'T's all wonderful."
"Is there anything here that's a favorite of yours?"
"I like'm all. I'm crazy about'm all," replied the girl, coolly, scratching her head with the pencil. "Everyone of'm'll give you a great big thrill you'll never forget."
Brush looked up. "Might I ask you your name?" he said.
"Sure. You can know everything. My name's Whosis. I live with my mother and we don't keep a phone. I get out at four o'clock, but I only let my boy-friend see me home. I don't like to dance and the pictures hurt my eyes; so what else would you like to know?"
Brush turned red. "I didn't mean anything like that," he said, in a low voice. "All I wanted to know was, was there one of the waitresses here named Roberta Weyerhauser."
"What is this, anyway?" she replied, angrily. "What's it to you? Who are you?"
"I . . . I'm just a friend of Miss Weyerhauser's."
"Say, who are you? Did somebody send you?"
"Are you Roberta Weyerhauser?"
"No, I'm not. My name's Lily Wilson, if you must know. And looka here: you tend to your business and I'll tend to mine. That way we'll get on better. See?"
Brush looked at her earnestly. "I asked you a question, that's all," he said.
"Hurry up. What'll you have?"
Without looking at him she took down his order, then cast a contemptuous glance at him and started to go. She had scarcely taken ten steps when she was suddenly struck with recognition of who he was. She gave an exclamation of astonishment and hatred and turned to look at him once more. He had been following her with his eyes and their glances met. She hurried off and his dishes were brought to him by another waitress.
He returned that evening for dinner. Dancing was going on. Most of the tables were filled and he was unable to find a place in Roberta's territory.
At lunch the next day he was back at his former table. Suddenly she was saying angrily in his ear:
"If you keep coming around here any more, I'll tell the manager and he'll tell the police. Now that's the truth."
"Roberta . . ."
"Don't you call me that!"
"Won't you give me ten minutes to talk to you?"
"I never want to see you again. I don't ever want to."
"Roberta, I have a right to talk to you."
"No, you haven't."
"Listen, for months and months I looked for your father's house. I tried every road. I didn't know how to find you."
"I'm glad you didn't. Hurry and give me your order and then never come back again. Now I mean it."
Brush gave an order.
When she laid the dishes before him, he said: "I'll have to keep coming back here until you set a place where I can meet you for a short talk."
"Well, I won't. I'll leave this job and I'll change my room and I'll go somewhere where you can't find me. I hate you more than I hate anybody in the world. I never want to see you again and I don't want to talk to you again. What happened was terrible and I never want to think about it again. Now that's all."
The Chinese manager of the restaurant seemed to have become aware of these conversations. He strolled about in the neighborhood with affected indifference. Roberta saw him approaching and fled. He stopped at Brush's table and asked:
"Is everything all right?"
"Oh yes," said Brush, hastily, "fine. Everything's fine."
When Roberta returned with the dessert, Brush whispered, "I want you to marry me, Roberta."
"You're crazy."
"Anyway, we're married already."
"You're crazy as a coot," repeated Roberta, crying as she punched his check. She hurried away. Brush put thirty dollars into an envelope, solemnly licked the flap and wrote his name, address, and telephone number on the cover.
At a few minutes after four his landlady called him to the telephone.
"I don't want your money," said Roberta, "and I won't take it."
"Can I see you somewhere?"
There was a short pause. Then, "If you promise not to come to the restaurant any more, I'll see you for a minute."
"Now? Can I see you now?"
"I have to go back to work at six."
"Where are you?"
"I'm in a drug store, center of town."
"Can you be by the steps of the Public Library in about twenty minutes?"
"I guess so. Where's it at?"
"Why," said Brush, "it's still at Ninth and Locust."
"If I come," said Roberta, "you've got to promise it's the last time. You've got to promise to leave me alone."
"Roberta, I can't promise that. But I promise to do everything I can not to trouble you."
There was a silence, then both furtively hung up.
Roberta was already waiting at the corner when Brush arrived. It was growing colder and a strong wind had risen. She was holding her hat with one hand: the other held Brush's envelope. She kept her eyes on the distance.
"Hello, Roberta!" he said.
She held out the envelope. "Here—I won't take it," she said.
"I won't take it, either," he replied. "I owe you money all my life. I'm going to support you until you die."
She threw the envelope upon the ground. Brush picked it up.
Still looking into the distance, she began speaking in low, angry tones: "I know you think you have me in a corner. Well, you haven't."
"Oh, Roberta, you don't understand!"
"Then what is it? What do you want?"
"Don't you see? I can't bear to have you be my enemy. I can't bear living on in life while there are things in the past that haven't been put right and fixed up—fixed up with friendship. Roberta—don't you see that? So that if you'll only let me call on you now and then, I think you'll get to know my character better and I think you'll get to like me. Because the most important thing in my life is that you and I be friends."
"All right! All right! I haven't anything against you. Call it friends, if you like, only don't ever come to the restaurant again. Don't keep hunting me all the time this way."
Brush was silent a moment. Then he said, solemnly:
"Nothing can change the fact that you and I are married already."
"There you go again. That's awful to say a thing like that. You're crazy."
"Roberta, can I go and talk to your father about it?"
At this she became distraught. "Now that's enough," she cried. "If you do that, I'll kill myself. I'm not joking—I tell you plainly I'll kill myself."
"Sh! Roberta, I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to."
"Oh, you won't?"
"No, of course not. Now listen and don't get mad at what I am going to say: I have to be in and near Kansas City for about a week and a half. Will you let me come and see you once a day, or once every other day? just for a talk or a meal or even a movie?"
"What good is talk if all you do is to get back to that . . . that crazy idea of yours?" There was another pause. Roberta shivered. "I'll be catching cold here," she said. "I'm not supposed to stand out in the cold this way. . . . I'll tell you what you can do. My sister Lottie is coming to Kansas City next Sunday to see me. You can talk to her."
"Will you be there, too?"
"Yes. Yes."
"Where?"
"We'll meet you here on this corner at four o'clock."
"Today's only Tuesday."
"I don't care. I can't see you before Sunday or I'll go crazy, too."
"Can I write you letters?"
"Yes, only don't come to the restaurant. Now I'm going."
"Roberta, will you . . . accept this present from me?"
He took from his pocket a mass of tissue paper and unwrapped the wrist watch which had last been offered to Jessie Mayhew. Roberta looked at it, then burst into tears and cried: "Don't you realize I don't want to have anything to do with you? Don't you see that my life's all arranged and I don't want anything new coming into it and that I don't want to think about anything that took place a long while ago? Don't you understand that?"
"No," said Brush, sadly.
"Well, I've got to go now," she said, and went down the street.
Left alone, Brush went into the Library and settled down to read the article on Confucius in the Encyclopædia Britannica. His mind wandered from the subject, however, and presently he took a piece of paper from his pocket and began the first of his daily letters to the woman he meant to marry.
That evening he walked by Queenie's boarding-house, staring at the lighted windows on the top floor. The lights went out and a few minutes later Bat tore down the front steps and hurried away along the street. Brush rang the bell.
"Hello, Queenie! How are you?"
"I'm fine, Mr. Brush. How are you?"
"Can we go in here and talk where they won't see us? How are they, Queenie?"
"Didn't you know? Mr. Martin's terrible sick."
"Herb?"
"Yes. He isn't here any more. He's out to a hospital ten, fifteen miles in the country. . . . Yes. Mr. Baker says the doctors say he's going to die soon. Course, I don't know."
"Have you seen him there?"
"Yes. I went out with some laundry that come back late. The car fare's twenty cents each way."
"Queenie, will you go there with me tomorrow?"
"Well, . . ."
"You can go in and see him first, and when you've finished visiting, ask him if I can come up and see him. I won't say anything to make him mad, I promise. Will you do that?"
"I suppose I could go in the morning—I suppose I could. Mrs. Kubinsky's daughter—lives next door—could come in and answer the bell."
The next morning Brush appeared with a bunch of carnations and they started off.
"It's a nice ride," said Queenie. "There's nothing I like more than a good long street-car ride in the country."
"How's Father Pasziewski, Queenie?"
"Well, you know he was sick, and hardly had he got better than he began doing everything again. He went on hikes with the Knights of St. Ludowick and he took Mary's Flowers to the Zoo, like he used to do in the old days. He did all those things and the gall stones come back. Yes, sir, sure as you live."
"Did they?"
"Yes. You know, I don't think he'll ever get well. He's awful disappointed, Mr. Brush. Way down deep he's an awful disappointed man."
"What about?"
"About the way his young people have turned out. You know all those Knights of St. Ludowick he took so much trouble with two years ago? Well, they've turned out to be practically gangsters. Yes, sir, they hold people up in the park and they steal automobiles and everything. And a lot of Mary's Flowers have become taxi-dancers."
"M-m-m! What's a taxi-dancer, Queenie?"
"Well, now you ask me, I don't quite know, myself. Only when at a dance a man hasn't got a girl himself, he pays other girls to dance with him. Something like that. Father Pasziewski says he might as well hold the meetings of Mary's Flowers at Billy Kohn's Roseland Glades."
"It's not immoral to be a taxi-dancer, is it, Queenie?"
"No, I guess not; but it's not as good as a trip to the Zoo. He just don't know what to do about it. They want to make a little money on the side, what with the depression and everything. Another thing: none of those Polish workmen that used to do bowling in the basement—none of them have jobs any more. They all live on cabbage; that's all they live on. Let's talk about something else, Mr. Brush. I declare I can't talk about the depression for very long at a time. I get dizzy."
Brush shyly glanced sideways at Queenie: "Does Father Pasziewski . . . does he still ever say anything about me?"
"I told you—Didn't I tell you?—he prays for you."
Brush turned pale. His heart stopped beating.
Queenie added: "You're on the Friday list. I'm on the Tuesday list; that was yesterday."
After a pause Brush asked, in a low voice: "You didn't just say that to be nice, did you, Queenie? Is that true?"
"Why, of course it's true! I thought I told you before."
At the end of an hour's ride they reached the hospital. It was one of a number of institutions set in a great park. Brush waited downstairs while Queenie, bearing the carnations, went into the wards. When she returned she said:
"He says you can come up. I'll wait for you here. . . . And, Mr. Brush, he says . . . he was kinda violent, Mr. Brush . . . he says, you're not to preach to him. He feels so strong about it, I guess you'd better not."
"Oh, I won't. Honest, I won't. I've learned not to. That's one of the things I've learned. Is he in pain, Queenie?"
"I don't know, but he looks terrible. I want you to be ready for it; he don't look at all well to me."
Brush entered the ward on tiptoe and looked about. He saw Herb's eyes resting on him sardonically. He sat down by the bed, appalled.
"Hello, nuts! How are you?" said Herb.
"I'm all right."
"I know. You're perfect. You're always perfect. It's great."
Brush kept his eyes on him, but made no answer.
"Well, since you've come here, I've got something to say to you," continued Herb. "I didn't send for you. You came all by yourself. See? And I'm going to do the talking. If there's any talking going on I'm going to do it. Do you get that?"
"Yes."
"Well, in the first place, you might as well know that I'm on the point of croaking, and I don't care if I do. And since that's settled, I'm going to ask you to do me a favor. All you've got to do is to say yes or no."
"Of course, I will, Herb."
"Wait 'til you hear what it is, damn you. . . . That's all, just yes or no. It's all one to me, if you can't do it. Yes or no, and then quits. Oh, don't sit there like a cock-eyed idiot with your mouth open. Shut your mouth, anyway; you never can tell what'll fly in. . . . It's not even a favor I'm asking you; it's just a proposition. I'm not going to thank you, either. It's just one of those things; take it or leave it."
A nurse who was leaning over an adjacent bed turned and said: "You mustn't get excited, Fifty-seven, or I'll have to send your caller away. Just a few minutes, that's all."
Herb groaned: "Oh, go to hell. . . . God! I hate hospitals! . . . Now, listen, Jesus, it's this way. . . . Hell, what is your name?"
"Brush—George Brush."
"Brush, then. I've got two hundred and forty dollars in the bank and I'm going to leave them to you so that you can do something for me. Now, I'm going to make this story short and snappy, see? I don't know whether you knew about it, but I had a wife and kid. I lived at Queenie's, and she lived with some friends of hers. We hadn't quarreled or anything . . . we weren't separated . . . it was just that way, that's all. I didn't see the point of living in the same house with her. I didn't see myself coming home to eat at regular hours, and wheeling baby-carriages about the streets and all that tripe—I'm not that kind of fella, that's all. Well, one day she beat it. She's never been seen since, so I guess it was with somebody that was passing through town. And she left the kid behind. The people she was staying with were awful sore, so I took the kid and parked it in another house where I knew some people. I pay them three dollars a week for it. So I'm going to leave you this money and, if you want to, you can see they get their three dollars a week. I couldn't give them the money in a lump or God knows what they'd do with it. Do you get the idea?"
He paused for breath. Brush started to say something, when Herb called out in anguish: "Now don't say anything. You always make a fool of yourself when you say something. If you go into that soft stuff of yours I'll kill you."
"I won't, Herb, I won't. I want to ask if I can adopt the kid . . . I mean, forever."
"Oh, I don't give a goddamn."
"What's its name, Herb? How old is it?"
"I don't know its name. . . . Oh, I guess it's called Elizabeth. It's four or five years old."
"Herb, can I have it for my own, legally?"
"Oh, I wish I hadn't brought the thing up! Drop it! Drop it! Forget it!"
"Well, say yes or no, Herb. I could bring a lawyer . . ."
"You don't need a lawyer. Just take it."
"That's fine, Herb. There's nothing I'd like more."
"Poops! Well, don't say I saddled you with anything. It's just a proposition. It's all one to me."
Herb began fumbling under his pillow. He brought out a bankbook and some blank checks.
"Herb, I don't need the money," said Brush, hastily, "I've got more now than I know what to do with."
"Shut up! Write what I tell you!"
Brush made out two checks, one for twenty dollars to Herbert Martin; one to himself for the remainder. With great difficulty Herb signed them. "In the back pages here," he added, "you'll find the kid's address. Mrs. Barton, something Dresser Street. Get that?"
"Yes."
"And underneath it's my mother's address. I give her four dollars a week. She hasn't been getting any for these last few weeks since the time when I was taken cuckoo, so I don't know what she's doing. She don't know, either, she's so full of gin. Some day when you think of it you might slip her twenty, thirty dollars, see? I don't care, though. They can all go to hell, for all I care. I'm glad I'm clearing out."
There was a long pause during which he glared angrily at the top of the windows. Brush sat stiffly beside the bed.
Herb's eyes slid toward Brush. He said, "I see that the tricks the fellows played on you didn't do you any harm."
"No, no," said Brush quickly. "I was all right next day."
"They oughtn't to put the window-curtains up so high. They don't know how to run a hospital, that's all. You'd better go now before you say something wrong, Brush. You'd better not say anything, but just go. Only, leave your address, and if I think of anything else I'll have them write it to you."
Brush went. He turned at the door and looked back. Herb had covered his face with the sheet. Brush rejoined Queenie without speaking. They walked through the grounds in silence and stood by a marked telephone pole, waiting for the street car. Suddenly Brush flung himself face downward on the grass.
"Why, Mr. Brush, what's the matter?"
"I don't want to go on living, Queenie. I don't want to go on living in a world where things like that can happen. Something's the matter with the world, through and through."
At first, Queenie did not answer. She pressed her knuckles against her mouth. Then she said, "Mr. Brush, I'm ashamed of your talking that way."
"I believe there's a God, all right; but why's he so slow in changing the world? Why does he deliberately disappoint people like Father Pasziewski, and why does he let fine fellows like Herb get so mixed up?"
"Mr. Brush, it's awful to think things like that. I won't listen to you."
"But isn't there an explanation?"
"I won't listen to you?"
Queenie covered her ears with her hands. Suddenly Brush rose and, taking hold of Queenie's wrists, firmly peered into her eyes. He said, softly, as though to himself, "Queenie, wouldn't it be terrible if I lost my faith?"
Queenie had no protests left in her. She stared back at him. He continued, slowly: "Even . . . then . . . I'd go on . . . just as I am, I guess . . . wouldn't I? . . . Only, I wouldn't get any pleasure out of it. The world isn't worth living in for its own sake. Anyway, I haven't lost my faith, but now I know it's not so easy as I thought it was. . . . Queenie, here's your twenty cents. I can't go back with you. I've got to walk back and think these things over."
The street car was hurtling toward them. Queenie screamed out: "You're not going to walk all that way!"
"Oh yes, I am."
Queenie was already on the step when another thought occurred to him: "Queenie, have you ever had anything to do with babies?"
"Yes."
"I'm bringing you one tonight."
"What?"
"I say that—"
"Step lively," said the conductor.
"I'm bringing you a baby about three o'clock. Herb's."
"Conductor," said Queenie, sharply, "will you hold this car a minute. . . . You'd better come and ride on this car, Mr. Brush. You're not well."
"I'm bringing an old lady, too—Herb's mother."
The conductor rang his bell. "Get on or off, lady," he said. "This car's gotta go places."
The car bore off an anxious Queenie, but not before she had leaned out of the window and called, "Now take care of yourself."
Brush walked to Kansas City. Gradually the exhilaration of the exercise and the interest of making plans for his new dependents drove away his dejection. He called on the Bartons and carried Elizabeth off to her new home. Herb's mother refused to put her foot out of her room, or to permit Brush to enter it, but she listened through a crack to the arrangements he was making with her landlady. He then sent a telegram of reassurance to Herb and sat down to tell Elizabeth the story of the Flood.
Chapter 9
Ozarksville, Missouri. Rhoda May Gruber. Mrs. Efrim's hold-up man. George Brush's criminal record: Incarceration No. 3.
In spite of the absorbing occupation that entered his life with the appearance of Elizabeth and the problems of her education, George Brush's mind was filled with the coming interview on Sunday. In order to quiet his anticipation he decided to fill in the time with work. There were a number of professional calls in the vicinity waiting to be made, but first he decided to journey some distance and confer with a certain mathematics teacher and high-school principal at Ozarksville in lower Missouri. Arriving at the town, he discovered that he had more than a day's free time on his hands—the man he had come to see was away on a tour of inspection in the rural districts—and he decided to put into practice a plan that had long appealed to him. He resolved to pass a day in silence, following the example of his master, Gandhi. From four o'clock on Thursday until four o'clock on Friday not a word would pass his lips; and to mark the occasion still more solemnly he decided that not a particle of food would enter them.
He now communicated with the outside world by means of paper and pencil. The staff of the Baker Hotel was astonished to discover that its guest had been visited by so sudden an attack of laryngitis. On Thursday night, Mr. Baker, staring at the sky from the railing of his veranda, asked Brush whether he thought it was going to snow. Brush drew out his pad and gravely wrote the word, "No." He was mistaken. The next morning he woke up to find that it had been snowing during the night; it grew warmer, however, the snow changed to rain and presently cleared to a mild winter day. He spent the morning in his room, light-headed from hunger, but rendered strangely happy by what he took to be the spiritual benefits of the experiment. Soon after two o'clock he started out for a walk, having put some apples in his pocket in anticipation of the stroke of four. He was strolling down a street looking at the houses to right and left when his glance fell upon an arresting sight. A little girl was sitting on the front steps of a house and a few yards from the sidewalk; around her neck was a placard which read, "I AM A LIAR." Brush stared at the little girl and the little girl, pursing up her mouth importantly, stared at him. He hesitated only a moment, however. He walked up the path to the house and, drawing out his pencil and pad, wrote:
"What is your name?"
The little girl took his writing materials from him and wrote, "Rhoda May Gruber."
"You can talk?" wrote Brush.
Rhoda May insisted on being given the pencil and paper again. She wrote, "Yes."
"How long have you been here?"
"Ten years."
"Talk. You can talk," wrote Brush.
"Yes," wrote Rhoda May, "only I cannot talk now because I have been noty."
"Are your father and mother home?"
"Yes."
Brush hesitated, but it was too late. The Grubers had become aware of the unusual conversation on their front steps. They came out upon the porch.
"What's goin' on here?" asked Mr. Gruber, darkly.
Brush smiled reassuringly up at him.
Mrs. Gruber said, shrilly: "Rhoda May, git up off that step. Come here to me."
Mr. Gruber followed her with his eyes. "Take that thing off your neck," he said. "What did this man say to you?"
Mrs. Gruber gave Rhoda May a sharp pull and clutched her to her skirts. Rhoda May began to cry. Mr. Gruber turned back to Brush.
"What do you want? Eh? What is it you want?"
Brush began writing on his pad.
"You're deef-'n'-dumb, is that it?"
Brush shook his head, still smiling.
"You're not deef-'n'-dumb? Then what is it? . . . Rhoda May, what did this man say to you? . . . There's something funny about this," he said, raising his eyebrows significantly. "You'd better run over to the Jones' telephone and call Mr. Warren or the sheriff." Then he turned back to Brush. "What is it you want? Are you selling something?"
Brush raised his head from his work, shook it, pointed at Rhoda May, then at the placard, and went back to his writing.
Rhoda May's wails rose louder. Her father slapped her smartly and roared: "Git in the house. Git in there. . . . You git in there, too, Mary. I'll tend to this."
Mrs. Gruber put out one trembling hand. "Now do be careful, Herman."
Brush now presented his statement: "I will be back later to talk to you about that punishment. I think you'll see what I mean."
Whereupon, walking down the path backwards, with gestures of cordiality, he returned to the sidewalk.
"You show up here again," called Gruber, "and I'll lick the hide off you, d'ya hear? I'll get the police on you, d'ya hear?"
Brush nodded, making gestures of pacification with his hands.
"You come around here and I'll knock your teeth out!" bellowed Gruber, and went into the house, slamming the door on Rhoda May's howls.
Four o'clock found Brush several miles from town, stumbling about in the mud of the road. As he looked at his watch and found that the vow was accomplished, he was filled with a satisfaction that was almost ecstasy. He turned back toward the town and did a quarter of an hour's running, then slowed down and ate an apple. He gazed with affection at the squatters' frame cabins, at the hound dogs that hesitantly approached the gates in the wire fences, at the chickens that had ventured out in the pale wintry sunshine. The path amid the dried weeds at the side of the road gave way to a sidewalk of planks. In the distance he could see a few rusty automobiles drawn up before the long arcade made by the projecting fronts of the stores beside the post-office.
At the edge of the town he came upon a store, or rather two stores thrown into one, that bore a sign: "N. Efrim<|fim_middle|>uber was sworn in and told his story of indignant virtue . . . only and treasured child. He dwelt upon the peekyuliar behavior of the accused, his pretense of being unable to speak. The whole court could see for itself that the accused could speak as well as anyone else. Brush raised his hand, but the judge sharply ordered him to lower it. Gruber droned on and the judge caught half a chapter of Adam Bede. Mrs. Gruber was called and gave a flighty, incoherent account of the affair. At last the judge saw his wife and the Harts slipping into the last row of seats. He put a book mark into his volume and laid it to one side. Mrs. Gruber was dismissed and Brush was called upon.
"What's your business, young man, and what are you doing in Ozarksville?"
"I travel for Caulkins and Company, publishers of textbooks for school and college. I came to town to call on Superintendent MacPherson."
"I see. Have you ever had an impediment in your speech?"
"No, Your Honor."
"Did you have laryngitis yesterday?"
"No, Your Honor."
"Can you explain why you pretended to be incapable of speech yesterday?"
"Yes, Your Honor, easily."
"I should like to hear it."
"Your Honor," began Brush, "I am very interested in Gandhi."
The judge laid down his pencil sharply and said, in a loud voice: "Young man, you will please give me the answers to my questions and nothing else."
Brush squared his shoulders. "I am, Your Honor. It's the only way I can answer them. I . . . I've been studying Gandhi's ideas lately and—"
Judge Carberry threw an ecstatic glance at his wife, then drawing his hand down his face he roared: "Stop that! Stop it right now! I will not be made a fool of in my own courtroom. Young man, this is no time for desultory conversation. Do you realize that you're standing here under two very serious charges? Do you?"
"Yes," said Brush, his jaws set.
The judge lowered his eyes and said, more quietly: "Now continue and let's have no nonsense."
Brush remained silent. There was a long pause.
The judge looked up. "Do you wish to add contempt of court to your other charges? Do you—Very well. Young man, perhaps you do not understand your position here. You have been charged with two offenses, either of which might send you to state prison for a very long time. You have been in Ozarksville for a little less than two days and already you have drawn across it a trail—a trail, I say—of suspicion and confusion such as it has not seen in fifteen years. And yet you conduct yourself before me frivolously, yes, frivolously in open court."
Brush turned even paler, but remained firm. "I'm not afraid of anything or anybody, Your Honor," he said. "All I want to do is to tell the truth, and you keep misunderstanding me."
"Well, begin again, then. And if you bring up the name of Gandhi again I shall put you in jail for a few days, where you can cool off."
Brush wiped his forehead. "The reason I didn't talk to anybody yesterday until four o'clock was that I had taken a vow of silence," he said.
The judge suddenly grasped the connection. When he reappeared, still panting, from behind his barrier of books, he glanced at his wife. Mrs. Carberry shook her fist at him.
"I see. Go on," he said.
"That vow of silence," continued Brush, "was in imitation of a certain leader in India. Soon after two o'clock I went out for a walk. I saw that girl sitting on the steps of her house. She had a sign around her neck that said 'I am a liar.' "
"What?" asked the judge.
" 'I am a liar.' "
When this confusion was cleared up, everyone took a deep breath and the judge took a drink of water. He asked, "What was your purpose in approaching the child?"
"I didn't think that was any way to punish a child. I think lying's a bad thing, but I don't think that's the way to punish a child that does lying."
"I see. Are you a father, may I ask?"
Brush was silent a moment. "No," he said, in a low voice. "I don't think I am."
"I beg your pardon?" asked the judge, learning forward.
"Not that I know of," said Brush.
Judge Carberry shuffled the papers on his desk. "Well, we won't go into that now," he said. He then asked, loudly, "Is this little girl in court?"
Rhoda May was led to the witness stand. She was given laborious instructions about the oath and the Bible, but she entered into the proceedings with perfect assurance and unbounded enjoyment.
"Will you tell us what happened, Rhoda?" asked the judge.
Rhoda May turned and faced the audience. She kept her eyes proudly fixed on her mother's face. For a moment she turned back to the judge. "My name's Rhoda May," she said. "I was sitting at my house and that man came up the walk to my house and I knew he was a bad man right away."
"Why were you sitting on the steps, Rhoda May?"
"Because I'd been bad."
"Yes, and what did this man do?"
"He said for me to go away to a bad place, and I said no, because I love papa and mamma best."
"He asked you to go away with him?"
"Yes, but I didn't go, because I love papa and mamma best."
"Rhoda May, be careful. You must tell the truth. Did he say this with his mouth, or did he write it down?"
"He wrote it down, Judge Car-Berry. But I knew he was a bad man kidnapper right off. He looked at me like this and then I gave him a good kick. I gave him a good kick. And he began to run away and I ran after him and gave him another good kick in the face, and—"
"Mr. Gruber!" roared the judge.
"Yes, Judge Carberry."
"Take your daughter home. We will now proceed to the second charge."
A shocked silence ensued while the Grubers with lowered heads passed down the aisle.
The judge then said in a courteous tone: "Mrs. Efrim, will you be so good as to give us an account of the events that took place in your store yesterday afternoon?"
Mrs. Efrim, rustling in a voluminous black silk dress, edged her way past her children's knees and took her place on the stand. The judge paid her a deference that touched on gallantry. Her hand was scarcely lowered from the oath when she broke out:
"Judge Carberry, I can't tell you how terrible I feel to be in court this way. I've lived in this town forty years—my husband and I, may his soul be at rest!—without ever coming in this building, beyond paying our taxes in the basement, Judge Carberry."
"But, Mrs. Efrim, there's no reflection on yourself. I assure you—"
"You can say what you like, Judge Carberry," she said, hugging her elbows woefully, "and it's very kind of you, but it don't change the facts."
"Now, now, Mrs. Efrim," said the judge, leaning forward, "The Court considers it an honor that you should be kind enough to appear here today. Yourself and my friend Nathan Efrim have been among the most respected citizens in this town for many years and the Court holds it a privilege to have you among us today."
Mrs. Efrim cast a mighty glance at her six openmouthed children and started to tell her story.
"Really, Judge Carberry . . . Your Honor . . . I have no charges to make against that young man. I guess he's just different from the rest of us, that's all. Even to this minute I don't know what happened. At first I thought he was a nice young man." Here she looked at him a moment. "I don't know what to think, Your Honor."
"Thank you, Mrs. Efrim, will you simply tell us what took place."
"Well, he came in. I was sitting by the window, knitting, when he came in . . . and he hadn't been there two minutes when it seemed like he began—I don't know how else to say it, Your Honor—he began winding himself into my confidence."
"You don't say?"
"I don't know what else I can say. Your Honor, Judge Carberry. There's nothing he didn't do. He tried to give me an apple; he threaded me needles—"
"I beg your pardon?"
"He threaded me three-four needles. He asked me my children's names. He . . . he bought a doll. Yes, sir. He asked me to eat an apple and he said himself he hadn't eaten a thing for twenty-four hours. And then he . . . and then he got me to show him where my money was hid."
"Why, Mrs. Efrim, I never heard such a story in my life."
"Well, it was funny, Your Honor. There's nothing he didn't do, but I must say I liked him until he began acting queer when the hold-up man came in."
"Will you tell us about that, please?"
Mrs. Efrim, however, was unable to tell it. From her confused narrative Judge Carberry received the impression that there were three or more hold-ups, a storm, broken window panes, and some very curious exchanges of money. He thanked her elaborately, however, and she resumed her place among her children, who scarcely so much as dared to look at her sideways, after her excursion into the important world. Mrs. Robinson was called. Her testimony was to the effect that there was no hold-up man with a handkerchief about his face—no one beyond the accused standing in the middle of the store with a revolver in his hand terrorizing Mrs. Efrim. This testimony was confirmed by Mr. Warren.
Finally Brush was called.
"Young man, did you obtain from Mrs. Efrim the secret of the hiding-places of her money?"
"Yes. She . . ."
"Did you tell the hold-up man where her money was hid?"
"Yes, Your Honor, but I meant to pay her back."
"Did you take the gun yourself and hold up Mrs. Efrim?"
"Yes, but I never meant—"
"Don't tell me what you meant or what you didn't mean. All I want is the facts, and the facts speak for themselves, don't they? Did you allow the hold-up man to escape when you knew the deputy sheriff was coming?"
Brush was silent.
"Are you going to answer that question?"
Brush continued looking stonily before him. The judge waited. Finally he began speaking in a low, penetrating voice:
"You've gone into another vow of silence, I suppose? And no wonder! There is nothing to say. The facts speak for themselves. You were going to tell me this is all a misunderstanding. You were sure we were going to be out of this courtroom in a quarter of an hour. . . . Put your hand down! . . . You wound your way into Mrs. Efrim's confidence, did you? You threaded needles for her! You even went so far as to buy a doll, did you? No wonder you found out where she had hidden her money."
Here the judge was so overcome with pleasure at his own wit that he descended behind the barrier of books and had a fit of coughing. When he emerged he discovered that Brush was descending the steps into the auditorium and apparently intended to leave the building.
"Where are you going now?" shouted the judge.
"I won't be talked to like that, Judge Carberry," said Brush.
"You're under arrest; Officer, restrain that man."
Brush said, "You won't let me speak!"
"Come back here. You're under arrest. So you've changed your mind? Now you want to talk, do you?—Where are you going?"
"Oh, I'm going to the jail, all right. I'd rather sit in jail and make rope than be treated like you're treating me, Judge Carberry. You haven't heard my explanations yet."
At this moment, to the great excitement of the already dazzled audience, Mrs. Carberry, very red in the face, advanced down the aisle of the auditorium.
"Darwin, you behave yourself," she said. Then turning to Brush, she added: "Young man, don't you mind what he says. You tell your story. That's just his way. He doesn't mean it. You go back and tell your story."
"Order! Order!" cried the judge. "Go back to your seat, ma'am, and leave the running of this court to me. . . . Now, Mr. Brush, I'll give you another chance." But the judge could not resist the addition of one further embellishment to his afternoon, and called after his retreating wife: "Ma'am, if you attend properly to the running of your home, I shall try to attend to the running of my court." Whereupon he disappeared behind the bulwark of his Blackstones, from which he presently appeared, much shaken, wiping his eyes. "Mr. Brush," he said, grandly, "have you an explanation for your astonishing conduct yesterday afternoon?"
"Yes, sir, I have."
"We are ready to hear it. And kindly remember you are under oath. . . . One minute!" He took a deep drink of water, mopped his face, and bade the stenographer look sharp.
Brush gave a clear and detailed account of the events in Mrs. Efrim's store. When he had finished, the judge sat in silence a moment, looking at his wife. He took off his glasses, breathed on them, and slowly polished them. The audience followed his movements in silence. He then turned to Mrs. Efrim:
"Mrs. Efrim, have you anything to add or correct in that story?"
"No, Judge Carberry. Everything he said really happened."
"Well, now at least we have an idea of what this is all about. Now, Mr. Brush, can you explain to the court your reasons for giving Mrs. Efrim's money to the hold-up man?"
"Yes . . . it's all based on a theory of mine. I mean on two theories of mine."
"What!"
"Yes, and a lot of it I owe to Gandhi."
"There's Gandhi again!" said the judge, resignedly.
"It's all based on ahimsa, Your Honor, but before I get to ahimsa I have to tell you what I think about money."
So Brush told the court about voluntary poverty.
"And do you live by voluntary poverty?" asked the judge.
"Yes, Your Honor. And the point of that is this: a poor person—even if he's a millionaire—is a person whose head's always full of anxious thoughts about money; and a rich person is a person whose head's not full of anxious thoughts about money."
"Thank you, Mr. Brush," said the judge, dryly, "I'm sure we're all the better today for that thought."
"And the poorest persons in the world, therefore are beggars and robbers. Now you'll see what I mean when I say that a robber is a beggar that doesn't know he's a beggar."
"And now, Mr. Brush, I'm going to ask you what good it does to give your money away to these robber-beggars of yours?"
"It's easy to see that. When you give money to a robber you do two things: you show him that he's really a beggar at heart, and you make a certain strong impression on his mind that—"
"Yes, you do. You give him the impression that you're a coward or fool."
Brush smiled and shook his head. "I think I can explain this idea in another way. It's my favorite idea in the world and I've spent a lot of time on it. Your Honor, I'm a pacifist. If they put me in a battle I wouldn't shoot anybody. Now suppose that I was in a shell-hole and I met an enemy who was about to shoot me, and suppose I tore the gun out of his hands. Naturally he'd expect me to shoot him, but of course I wouldn't. That would make an impression on his mind, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, it would."
"Well, and if I pointed out some hidden money to a burglar that was trying to steal some money from me, that would make an impression on his mind, too."
"Yes, it would: I say again they'd think you were a fool."
"Judge, that might be what they'd call it, but at the back of their minds they would be taught something."
"Have you finished?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
"So you gave forty or fifty dollars to a burglar in order to make an impression on his mind?"
"Yes."
"Suppose that the man in the shell-hole shot you. What becomes of your lesson to him then?"
"Well, Judge, ahimsa would have been in my mind. That's Gandhi's word for it, Your Honor. And if somebody has ahimsa in his mind, I believe it has a chance of jumping from mind to mind."
"What becomes of ahimsa, Mr. Brush, if you suddenly come upon a man who's attacking your sister?"
"Yes, I've heard that before. Everybody brings up that argument about your sister being attacked, and I get angry about it. What if a thousand sisters were attacked. Let them be attacked. If the attackers are met with ahimsa the attackers will learn about it. That's the way the idea will spread. Somebody's sisters—millions of them—are being attacked all the time, and things aren't getting any better; so it's time to try a new way to cure it. Let some of your sisters be attacked. Before the new idea can jump around the world from one person's mind to another's there will have to be a lot of people attacked."
"I see. I see. And you want us to go about releasing murderers and thieves, on the chance that this impression is made on their minds. Do you advise the Department of Justice to collect as many thieves as possible and give them each a hundred-dollar bill? Is that it?"
"Well, look how things are now in your system. People go on committing crimes, and the government goes on committing crimes to punish them."
"Oh, it does!"
"Yes, sir. It's a crime to kill, and the government does that, and it's a crime to lock somebody up in a room for years on end, and the government does that by the thousands. The government commits thousands of crimes in a year. And every crime makes more crimes. The only way out of this mess of crimes is to try this other way."
The judge was silent, stroking his face. The silence was filled by the anxious scribbling of the stenographer and the sounds of automobile horns from the street. He glanced at the audience which sat watching him with fallen jaw.
"And where did you get that idea?" he asked.
"It's mine and Tolstoi's."
While the judge spelled out the name for the stenographer, Brush drew from his pocket a little blue pamphlet, Sayings of Leo Tolstoi, and passed it up.
"Have you any other sources upon your person, Mr. Brush?"
Whereupon Brush began to draw similar little pamphlets from all his pockets. They were gravely passed up to the bench—Epictetus, Thoughts from Edmund Burke, Sayings of Great Statesmen, Sayings of Great Philosophers, Stories from Famous After-Dinner Speakers. The judge passed the books to the stenographer. He then collected himself and said, dryly:
"Well, it's all sort of poetical and sentimental, Mr. Brush; but it's all very unlike the facts of life. And it seems to be based upon a profound misunderstanding of the criminal's mind."
"I don't know what you mean by the criminal's mind, Your Honor. All I mean is, a criminal is a human being who thinks that the whole universe hates him. I think that awful things must go on in your mind when you think that the whole universe hates you. And the certain impression that we try to make on their minds is the impression that they are not hated."
Again the judge paused. Then he said, "And you expect the United States to—"
Brush interrupted him: "Judge Carberry, people like me, who believe in ahimsa—it's not our business to worry as to whether other people do or not. It's our business to do it ourselves and to take every chance, like this, to talk about it to other people. It's the truth and so it'll spread about the world of its own accord."
"Mrs. Efrim, do you feel that this explains what this young man did with your money?"
Mrs. Efrim rose hesitantly. "Judge Carberry . . . I guess he means what he says."
"Court is dismissed," said the judge.
The clerk said, quickly: "There's this other man, Your Honor—Burkin, charged with—"
"Court is dismissed," repeated the judge.
The clerk was required to repeat the announcement a number of times in addition, for the audience remained motionless in its seats, unwilling to quit so bewildering a display, but finally the Carberrys and the Harts took Brush in the mayor's car to the jail to call on Burkin.
"Let me explain about Burkin," said Brush. "He's a—"
"No. Wait 'til we get there," said the judge.
Burkin sat in his cell, rereading King Lear. He was brought into the office.
"What's it all about?" asked the judge.
Burkin was pale and contemptuous. "You wouldn't understand," he said. "You wouldn't understand. Go and give me your twenty days. I've got some letters to write."
The judge was silent, listening to him gravely.
Burkin continued: "Only leave me Little Rollo here. Big kidnapper and hold-up man. Big public enemy.—The law's a farce and you know it."
"Come on," said the judge. "What is it? Looking in windows?"
Burkin began to tremble and snap his fingers with excitement. "I tell you you wouldn't understand. Go tell the goddam mayor there never was anybody in Ozarksville who ever understood anything and there never will be."
Brush was suffering acutely. "Let me explain?" he asked, in a whisper.
"All right, Brush. What's the matter with your friend?"
Brush explained.
The judge turned to Burkin. "Even I can understand that, Burkin," be said. "Gentlemen, would you rather have your supper here in the jail or would you rather find it somewhere else? Have either of you got a car?"
"Yes."
"Well, I don't want to hurry you, gentlemen, but it would be less embarrassing for us if you decided to eat in some other town."
The prisoners gathered their things together and went down the hall.
Judge Carberry put his hand on Brush's shoulder and stopped him. Brush stood still and looked at the ground. The judge spoke with effort:
"Well, boy . . . I'm an old fool, you know . . . in the routine, in the routine. . . . Go slow; go slow. See what I mean? I don't like to think of you getting into any unnecessary trouble. . . . The human race is pretty stupid, . . . Doesn't do any good to insult 'm. Go gradual. See what I mean?"
"No," said Brush, looking up quickly, puzzled.
"Most people don't like ideas. Well," he added, clearing his throat, "if you do get into any trouble, send me a telegram, see? Let me see what I can do."
Brush didn't understand any of this. "I don't know what you mean by trouble," he said. "But thanks a lot, Judge."
They shook hands and Brush climbed into the car beside Burkin. Burkin bent over the wheel with a black expression on his face, but Brush waved back at the judge, the mayor and the warden and disappeared down the street.
Chapter 11
A road in Missouri. Chiefly conversation, including the account of a religious conversion. George Brush again sins against ahimsa.
When they had reached the edge of the town, Burkin asked, "Where do you want to go?"
"Kansas City, if it's all right with you," said Brush. "You see . . . I expect to get married Monday or Tuesday and I want to get there Sunday so as to talk it over."
"You don't say!"
"Yes, it's a long story and I'd rather not tell it just yet."
"That's all right with me, but there are some other things I'd like to know. How did it happen the judge and the mayor had to come to the jail to see us off? What was all that diddling about? Are they all crazy in that town or did you infect'm?"
Brush gave him a detailed account of the trial.
"Well, well," said Burkin, shaking his head, "such goings-on! You'd better look out, Brush. You can't go about long with upsetting ideas like that and get away with it. One of these days you'll be teasing the bourgeoisie one too many and they'll crack down on you."
Brush looked at him inquiringly, but said nothing. They decided to postpone their supper indefinitely and drove on for a time in silence over the plain. In the distance an occasional silo rose among some farm buildings. The first stars began to appear above a spiritless sunset.
"Stop!" cried Brush as they passed a man beside the road, his thumb extended for a hitch. "Stop for him!"
"Not on your life!"
"Stop, I say!" cried Brush, putting his hand on the wheel.
"You can't do that in this country," said Burkin. "It's not safe."
Brush pulled back the brake. "What are you afraid of everything for?" he said.
"He might be another hold-up man, y'fool! He'd take our car off us."
"I'll buy you another car," said Brush. "Always stop for hitch-hikers. Always do it, if you've got room."
Burkin gave in and began backing the car. He said: "Oh, you're rich enough for anything, aren't you? All right. He's your responsibility."
The man came running up.
"Get in, Pete," said Burkin. "The car's yours."
Not until the newcomer had been bestowed in the back seat among the suitcases, and the car had gathered speed, did Brush recognize who it was. "It's Mrs. Efrim's hold-up man," he said.
The man leaped for the door, but dared not jump out. "I gotta get outa here," he cried in a throaty voice. "Lemme out."
"Shut up and settle down," said Burkin. "We won't hand you over. Brush here saved you from the law once already, didn't he? So pipe down and take a snooze. And as for you, Brush, don't you lecture him. The poor geezer's suffered enough from you already."
"I don't wanna stick around with you guys. Go on, lemme out," the man repeated but receiving no answer, he relapsed into a brooding silence.
Brush said into Burkin's ear: "I wish I knew what he was thinking. It would be very important to know. I think it's one of the most important things in the world to know what goes on in a person's mind when he's been treated with ahimsa."
"Nothing goes on in his mind," said Burkin. "All he's got is a few visceral reactions. He lives like a fox at the edge of a chicken farm."
"You're wrong," said Brush. "He's got a soul, a complicated soul like anybody else."
"Lemme out, you guys. All I wanna do is get out and walk."
"What's your name?" asked Burkin.
"Hawkins."
"Where do you want to go, Hawkins?" The man remained silent. Burkin continued: "What do you do? What's your trade? Come on, tell us your story. We've got two or three hours ahead of us. Come on, out with it. How did it all happen?"
Hawkins refused to answer.
Brush said, in a low voice: "You see, he's pretty uncomfortable, and that's what I expected. It's this way: The Bible says that if a man does something bad to you, you ought to give him the chance to do more bad to you, like giving him your other cheek to slap. That's in the Sermon on the Mount. But I always thought that ought to be changed a little. If you do pure good to a man that's harmed you that shames him too much. No man is so bad that you ought to shame him that way. Do you see? You ought to do just a little bit of bad in return, so he can keep his self-respect. Do you see what I mean?"
"Pretty subtle for me," said Burkin.
Hawkins became violent. "If you don't lemme outa here I'll break every window in this car," he cried, and smashed one of the side windows.
Brush leaned over the back of the seat and gave Hawkins a cuff on the side of the head. "Sit down there quiet, Hawkins," he said.
"Brush, I don't like that," said Burkin. "Looks like you're reneging on ahimsa for us."
"I didn't really hurt him," whispered Brush. "I'm experimenting."
There was silence for a time, when Brush felt a sudden blow on the back of his head.
"Hawkins, you mustn't do that," he said. To Burkin he said, confidentially: "Isn't this interesting? You see what it means? It means that bad people can't bear to be benefited by anyone. Now I'll punish him a little so as to restore his self-respect."
Brush turned and, keeling on the cushions of the front seat, grasped Hawkins' shoulders and shook him violently.
The car was entering a village. Burkin said over his shoulder, "Have some eats with us, Hawkins?"
"No."
"Aw, keep your chin up, Hawkins! What the hell's the matter with you? Have some eats. We'll pay for it."
They stopped the car before a lunchroom. Hawkins leaped out and darted up an alley.
Brush smiled after him. "I think that proves everything," he said.
Burkin did not answer. They sat down on the high stools and had a series of hamburger sandwiches, pouring scalding coffee down on top of them. At last Burkin said:
"How did they take that about voluntary poverty?"
"All right, I guess. They listened."
"Did you ever gain any converts with it, Brush?"
"You never know. I think it works in people's minds and perhaps they begin to practice long after."
They ordered some pie, and Brush resumed:
"For instance, I once talked to some millionaires about it."
"My God!"
"They were the only millionaires I ever met and naturally I was very interested in them. When I'm on a train I talk to everybody, and once on a train I fell into conversation with a young couple and somehow the conversation got around to voluntary poverty."
Here Burkin began laughing and choking so that he had to be beaten on the back.
"I was telling you about this couple," continued Brush. "It seems she'd been a schoolteacher in a small Oklahoma town and she'd married the baggage agent down to the depot. He still had a red neck and red wrists, as though he ought to have been in overalls still, but he was a good serious fellow; and she was a serious girl, too. She had on a brown dress and she was pretty and serious, and I liked them both. And I told them all about voluntary poverty. Well, after they had been out to lunch in the dining-car they came back to see me and by that time they were pretty excited. They had been talking it over, and so they told me their story. They both talked at once, almost, and while they were talking she kept her hand on his hand. It seems that oil had been found on their land and they were worth almost three million dollars and they didn't know what to do about it."
"I can't wait for the end of this story," said Burkin. "Tell me, how much did they give you?"
"Naturally, I wouldn't take it," said Brush.
"All right, go on."
"They didn't know what to do with it. They'd already given a hospital and a park to their home town and they began by giving baskets of groceries to all the poor people, but soon they saw that was foolish, just to give hundreds of baskets of groceries every week."
"Well, what did you tell them to do?"
"You know what I told them? I told them they'd never be happy as long as they had it. I told them to go back to the schoolhouse and the baggage depot."
"That's great. Don't you know that the townspeople would hate them?"
"The townspeople hated them already when they stopped giving groceries. But this couple didn't want to live in any other town."
"Tell them to go abroad for a while."
"They did go abroad. They expected it would cost them a good deal of money, but when they got back it had only cost them two thousand dollars. They said they hadn't missed a thing, either, but that they didn't like doing foolish things that cost money."
"What did they say when you tried to drive them back to poverty?"
"The girl cried."
"So they tried to palm the money off on you?"
"You see, the reason they came back from the dining-car was because they wanted me to give away some of the money for them. They were Methodists and they had read the Bible and they believed you should give away one-tenth of your earnings every year. Only they couldn't think of any real good ways of doing it. It was a kind of funny situation, because they were getting off at the next station and had to talk fast. There he sat with his fountain pen out, trying to write me a check up to two thousand dollars."
"Didn't you take it?"
"No, I couldn't take it. Don't you see that giving is a thing you can never do for anybody else? That's a theory of mine. If you give without feeling your gift with every inch of yourself—"
"That's all right. All I want's the facts. You can keep the theories to yourself. So you sent the little millionaires off like that?"
"Yes."
"Is the story over?"
"Yes."
"Let's get back to the car." When they reached the pavement, Burkin added, "God! you're a fool!"
They drove on in silence. Brush felt Burkin's soured resentment. Finally Burkin said, in an even, leaden voice:
"It's a good thing you haven't got more stuff. Yep, you might cause a lot of harm, fooling around with people's lives. You might start a new religion or something."
"What do you mean, stuff?"
"Brains. Brains. Personality. Stuff."
Brush was silent a moment. Then he said, "It's not very nice to say things like that."
"Take it or leave it."
They drove on farther in silence. When they approached the lights of the next town, Brush began leaning over the back seat where the luggage was. "I think I'll get out here," he said, pulling at his suitcase.
"What's the matter? Hell! What's the matter with you?"
"I don't want to ride with you if you think that way about me."
Burkin was all amazement. "What did I say?"
"What you said back there—that I hadn't any . . . brains or personality. I don't like what you said back in the jail-yard about the New Testament, either. And I don't like the jokes you keep making about . . . well, about women. So I think I'd better get out here, if you'll stop the car, please."
"God damn it! get out and stay out!" cried Burkin, violently. "I'm not going to twa-twa like a sewing-circle for anybody. Get out before I kick you out. You're the damnedest prig I ever saw. You're a bag of wind. Get out of here."
Brush was still leaning over the back of the seat, extracting his suitcase from Burkin's extraordinary collection of goods. His confusion was increased by his need to fumble for a handkerchief.
Burkin stared at him sharply, then exclaimed: "Oh, you cry, too, do you?" Suddenly he burst out laughing. "You weep and blush and everything, don't you? Brush, you're wonderful! Say, put the suitcase back, put it back. I apologize. I won't do it any more. I apologize for everything." And again he went off into a violent fit of laughter.
Brush hesitated. "I can't stay here . . . if you don't take me seriously," he said.
"Of course I do! What are you saying! You're all right. Stick around. I wouldn't dump you out in a forsaken hole like this for anything. I apologize, and of course I take you seriously. I don't agree with you always . . . but, oh! I take you seriously, all right!"
"Well," said Brush, relenting, "I'd have been sorry to have left you in the middle of a quarrel like that. It's happened too often lately, just when I had begun to be friends with somebody. That's why I did what you called 'cry.' "
So Brush dried his eyes and the journey was resumed. From time to time Burkin was shaken by after-reflections of his fit of laughter. This made Brush uncomfortable, but finally he smiled a little sheepishly himself. At last he said in a low voice:
"I think I know what you meant by saying I was a prig—and you aren't the first person that's said it, either—but I don't mean to be one. That's the only way I can be and still hold on to my main ideas about life. Do you see what I mean?"
"All right. Let's not talk about it," said Burkin.
It was now a cold starlit night. The road ran smoothly over the prairie. Brush was commanded to talk in order to prevent the driver from falling asleep at the wheel, so he explained the business of selling textbooks. From there he went on to relate some of the adventures of the road—of how he had called on the great singer, Madame de Conti, at the Iowa City Musical Festival and of how she had taken a great fancy to him, even inscribing her picture "To my good friend, the true American George Busch, child of Walt Witmann's hopes"; of how he had been offered thirty-five thousand dollars to marry Mississippi Corey; of how he had gone for four days without food in order to experience what Russian students had suffered, and to share some of the trial of the Mahatma; of how he had taken a bus from Abilene, Texas, to Los Angeles in order to look at an ocean.
Burkin listened with an even level of attention that finally had something ominous in it. After a pause he asked:
"How did all this start, anyway? Where'd you catch the religious bug in the first place? At home?"
"Oh no! My people don't believe anything. They just live on from day to day. I didn't use to think about such things, either. Through the first years in college I just lived on that way, too. I was only interested in athletic scores and collecting stamps. Then suddenly I was converted in the middle of my sophomore year at college."
"What college was that?"
"Shiloh Baptist College, at Wallingkee, South Dakota, a very good college. I was president of the class, and I was very interested in politics, too—school politics, I mean. One day I saw a poster that a girl evangelist had come to town. She had set up a tent down by the railroad tracks and was holding meetings twice a day. Her name was Marian Truby. Her photograph was on the poster and it seemed like maybe her face was beautiful, so I went the first night just to look at her. Well, it turned out that she was not only a very beautiful girl, but a very wonderful speaker, too. I was converted that first night and I went forward to testify to it, and my life has been changed ever since. I went to every one of her meetings and after that I took every religion course there was in the college. Then the next most important thing in my life was when I began to read about Gandhi. I got hold of the life that he wrote of himself, and that gave me a lot more ideas—"
"Hold on here! Did you ever talk to the girl evangelist?"
"Only a minute or two," said Brush, reluctantly.
"What happened?"
"I didn't want to tell you about it . . . but since you've asked me . . . The last night of the meetings I went around to the back of the tent to tell her what a lot she'd done for me. She must have been pretty tired after preaching two sermons a day for a week and leading the hymns . . . and besides that she used to walk up and down the aisles and talk to people who were hesitating. . . . I don't like to tell you this because you might not understand it like I do. . . . I waited until the rest of the people had gone so that I could make it a little more personal. There was no door to knock on so I went right in. She was sitting in a sort of dressing-room and she was sort of moaning—"
"Did you say moaning?"
"Yes, moaning and groaning. And an older woman was standing over her, sticking a hypodermic syringe into her arm."
"You don't say!"
"Now that I know more about life I know what that was. But even that doesn't change my idea about all the good she did to me and hundreds of other people."
"Did you speak to her?"
"Yes, but she didn't look up. The older woman was mad and drove me right away."
"Have you ever seen her since?"
"No. I wrote her a letter, but she never answered it. If you put on the flashlight I'll show you her picture." Brush took from his purse a discolored newspaper clipping with a picture of Marian Truby. "I ask about her everywhere," he continued, "but I think she must have retired. Maybe she's sick somewhere. If I find that's so, I mean to support her for the rest of her life. You see, it says she was born in 1911 in Waco, Texas. I wrote the postmaster there, but he said there were no more Trubys there now."
"So your big ideas about life were fed you by a sixteen-year-old girl while she was hopped up with drugs?"
Brush made no answer.
Burkin continued in a low tone, edged with contempt: "Think it over. It all goes together—voluntary poverty and Christmas baskets for burglars. It all goes together. You've got the gaseous ideas of a sick girl. It has nothing to do with life. You live in a foggy, unreal, narcotic dream. Think it over. Listen, benny, can't you see that what you call religion is just the shiverings of the cowardly? It's just what people tell themselves because they haven't got the guts to look the facts of life and death in the face. If you'd gone to a respectable college you'd have had the chance to get wise to these things. You've lived all your life among the half-baked. You've probably never been exposed once in your whole life to anybody who really had any practice in thinking."
"You'd better stop the car," said Brush. "I'm going to get out." Then he added, shouting: "I suppose you think nobody with brains ever felt any religion."
"I could talk to you. I could show you things. But in two minutes you'd be squealing holy-murder and starting to jump out of the car. You don't want to grow up, that's the trouble with you. You haven't read anything. You haven't seen anything, except through the eyes of a girl in hysteria and some old dodo in Shiloh Baptist College. All right. Let's talk about something else."
Brush remained silent. At last he said, in a low voice, "Nothing that you could say would change my mind."
"It's now half-past eleven," said Burkin, decisively. "Will you let me talk to you for one half-hour, without your interrupting me?"
Brush was staring darkly before him. "Where did you go to college?" he asked.
Burkin named an Eastern university, adding: "But that wouldn't mean anything, except that I added a whole batch more education to it. I've worked on these things. I hung around the University of Berlin for a year. I lived half a year in Paris. I didn't stick in the smoking-cars of Texas and read cheap paper pamphlets from a mail-order house. Give me half an hour."
"I have a hard enough time with my own doubts without adding somebody else's to them," said Brush, in a low voice.
"What are you so afraid of doubts for? There's one thing worse than doubts, and that's evasions. You're full of evasions. You don't even want to look around. You don't give a goddam for the truth."
"I have the truth."
"All right, if you have the truth, why not listen to my error for half an hour?"
Brush was very unhappy. He glanced sideways at Burkin's face, then brought his wrist watch close to the dashboard light. "Go ahead," he said.
Burkin plunged into primitive man and the jungle; he came down through the nature myths; he hung the earth in astronomical time. He then exposed the pretensions of subjective religious experience; the absurdity of conflicting prayers, man's egotistic terror before extinction. At last he said: "If you'd read more I could show you the absurdity of the scholastic proofs of the existence of God and I could show you how the dependency complex begins. Is the half-hour up?"
Brush said, slowly: "When you began I thought you were going to say things that would stick in my mind and trouble me. You've talked three-quarters of an hour and you've only said one thing that had any point to it." His voice rose and presently he was shouting: "I guess we'd better change the subject, because you haven't thought enough about these things to make it worth my while. Why, can't you see that you don't know anything about religion until you start to live it?"
"Stop yelling, anyway."
"All you've done is think about it as though it were . . . as though it were a fish a long ways off. Even your doubts aren't the right doubts to have."
"I'm not deaf, I tell you. Shut up and sit down."
"You—"
"Oh, shut up!"
They drove in silence awhile. Finally they entered a village. All lights were out, save in a lunchwagon by the railroad tracks.
"I'm getting out here," said Brush.
Burkin stopped the car. The nervous twitch on the left side of his face had returned. Brush put his suitcase on the curb.
"I owe you about three dollars for that broken window," he said, "and another dollar for gas."
"Yes, you do."
"Here it is."
"Good-by," said Brush, extending his hand.
Burkin drove off without answering.
Chapter 12
Kansas City. Serious conversation in a park. A wedding. Practically an American home.
Brush returned to Kansas City by train. It was the first time in his life he had traveled by train on a Sunday. Even so, he was almost late for his appointment in front of the Public Library. He barely had time to rush back to his room at Mrs. Kubinsky's, change into his best suit, and run next door to take a look at Elizabeth. Elizabeth had entered Queenie's house a big-eyed pale child that smelled bad; already, however, she had taken on color, and Queenie gave a good account of her disposition.
The girls were already at the Library steps when Brush came running up the hill. They pretended to be deep in conversation.
"I'm only one minute late," he said. "I just got in from out of town an hour ago."
"This is my sister Lottie," said Roberta.
"Yes," said Brush, smiling. "I remember you from that night I was at your farm."
Lottie threw a quick glance at him and did not answer. She was not so tall as her sister; she had brown eyes and hair and gave the impression of being matter-of-fact.
"Would you like an ice-cream soda?" asked Brush. "Let's go to the drug store and have one first."
Making conversation was not easy. The girls sat on the high stools, earnestly engaged with the straws in their mouths.
"Is it too cold to go out to the park on the bluffs?" asked Brush.
"No, I guess not," said Lottie; so they all climbed on to a street car. The car was almost full and Roberta took a seat some distance from them.
"What are you interested in?" asked Brush.
"I?" asked Lottie. "Oh, nothing. Anything. Pigs and chickens, I guess, mostly. You see, Mr. Brush," she added, dryly, looking into his eyes, yet giving the impression that she did not see him, "I'm just a farmer's daughter—I don't go in for big ideas."
"I see," said Brush, uncomfortably.
Lottie turned her head and looked out of the window, as though she were sitting beside a stranger.
Brush cleared his throat several times, then said: "When we get to the park I want to show you some marks left by the ice-cap."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You see, the North Pole ice used to come all the way down to here. It stopped at Kansas City; that's what made the rivers. The ice was two thousand feet thick right where we are now. It was so heavy that it crushed the earth out of shape as far as . . . as far as Pennsylvania and Oklahoma."
"Well!"
"Naturally it carried some big rocks along with it, and those rocks ground down the big rocks under them and it's the marks of that grinding that I'm going to show you in the park."
"That'll be fine," said Lottie, without expression. She turned about and glanced at Roberta, who was sitting five seats behind her. She asked Brush, "When did all this happen?"
"About eight hundred thousand years ago."
Lottie gazed at him with cold irony, then turned her head away. Another silence ensued. Brush broke it by saying, urgently:
"Lottie, I want you to help me in persuading Roberta. I think it's tremendously important."
"Well, it was all an awful mess," said Lottie, just as quickly, "and I think the less we see of you the better."
"When I've done wrong," said Brush, in a low voice, "I can't wait until I've done everything I can to make it all right."
"You both did wrong. But at least it's all over now and there's nothing more that can be done about it," replied Lottie, decisively; then added, "Anyway, let's get to the park before we talk about it."
Brush glanced at her sideways. "Can I say one more thing before we change the subject?" he asked.
"I suppose so. What is it?"
"Try not to have a prejudice against me before you know me. I'm not the usual kind of traveling salesman."
Lottie looked at him with a faint smile. "I think I understand that," she said, and thereafter things went a little better. Descending from the street car, Lottie gave Roberta a sharp pinch on the elbow.
When they reached the park they sat down on a bench overlooking the river. Lottie sat in the middle tracing designs on the ground with the tip of her umbrella. Brush waited a moment and then plunged into the heart of the matter:
"Don't you see, Lottie, that all serious-minded people would agree that I'm really her husband already?"
"No."
"Don't you see that we can never marry anyone else, unless one of us two is dead? There's . . . there's one of the Ten Commandments about that."
Lottie bit her upper lip and looked at the ground. Brush tried another approach:
"Lottie, what does Roberta want? Does she want to stay in that restaurant? I think it's an awful place. I can't let her do that. I owe her a living for the rest of her life and I can afford it easily. I've got more money than I know what to do with. Can't you tell me what she wants?"
"Well, to tell the truth, Mr. Brush, she . . ."
"You must call me George, Lottie. Don't you realize you're practically my sister?"
"All right. All right. George—to tell the truth, there's only one thing in the world that Roberta wants, and that is . . ." She glanced sideways at Roberta. Roberta was sobbing. Lottie paused, then stood up and whispered into her sister's ear: "Roberta, do go off for a few minutes' walk while I talk to him. Will you, honey?"
Roberta nodded, rose, and sat down on the next bench.
Lottie continued: "She wants papa to like her again." Brush stared at her. "She wants papa to have a good opinion of her; that's all. She was papa's favorite girl of the three of us. It's been terrible for him, really it has."
Brush whispered: "But you see I don't know anything about it. I don't know anything about what happened."
"Well . . ." began Lottie, then rejected her impulse to recount the past, and resumed her former thought: "What I think is, if perhaps—when she knows you better and all that—if perhaps you married Roberta, then some day you could call on papa and show him you're not an ordinary traveling salesman . . . and you could talk to him about the Bible and things like that . . . and then he'd forgive Roberta."
"Then that's fine, Lottie. That's all I ask to do."
"But, George, don't you see? What good is it you two being married, if you don't love each other? What I thought was—"
Brush leaned over her earnestly and said: "I'll love her pretty well. I'll love her almost perfectly, you'll see. She'll never notice the difference. I'll tell you, confidentially, that there's only one other girl in the world I love more."
Lottie looked at him long and a little sadly. Then she smiled and put a hand on his arm. "George, you're kind of crazy," she said.
"Yes," he answered, hastily, "I know what you mean, if you notice carefully, you'll see that I'm very logical."
There was a pause. Then Brush leaned forward and, looking at his shoes, asked, "Lottie . . . why did your father send Roberta away."
"Why . . . because . . . because . . ."
Brush raised his chin and looked at her.
"She was very sick and. . . . I thought you knew."
"No, I didn't know."
"Of course. You couldn't have known."
"No, I never knew," breathed Brush.
"Well, on the farm . . . we all went through quite a time . . . papa and . . . mamma . . . and Roberta . . . and I."
They gazed into one another's eyes for a moment.
"Lottie, I think you're fine," said Brush. "I hope I know you all my life."
Lottie became confused and looked away. "I guess you will," she said, almost inaudibly. But she had something else to say. It was such a difficult thing to say that she fell into a false casualness and for a moment her gestures became affected and contradictory: "I was thinking that . . . you might marry Roberta just to please papa . . . then separate right away . . . and after a while get a divorce."
Brush also turned red. "No," he said. "You see, there are two things against that. One thing is that I never believe in divorce, and if anybody stops to think about it they can see why. And the other thing is that I never believe in doing anything just for show. I . . . I don't believe in that. . . . Oh, Lottie, don't you see that everything's all right? That we're going to have a fine American home?"
"Well, I've said all I'm going to say. You two'll have to decide it for yourselves from now on."
"Are you going to advise her to get married to me, though?"
"George, unless people love each other I don't think—"
"Lottie, when you have a hard decision to make, you know what you should do? You should go back to the first principles of the matter. You shouldn't ask what you want to do. You should look at it as though it were somebody else and not yourself. And, that's all very clear in this case. Lottie, I'll take the responsibility. I know I'm right. I know I'll love and protect Roberta until I die."
"All right," said Lottie.
"Will you go and ask her to come here? And, Lottie, listen: we'll have a nice home somewhere and you can come in all the time for Sunday dinner, and the whole family can come in from the farm, too. We'll have some fine times, you'll see. For instance, I have a very good tenor voice and the people are always asking me to sing for them. . . . Oh, Lottie, all this that began so badly will end up all right; it'll end up all the better. Now do you see how important it is?"
Lottie, a little dizzy in the conflict of ideas, went over to where Roberta was sitting. They had a long whispered conversation.
"But he's crazy," said Roberta.
"Yes," said Lottie, "I know. But he's crazy in a sort of nice way." She began laughing. "I'd marry him in a minute, myself."
"You would, Lottie?"
"Yes, I think I would; only, he hasn't asked me."
Whereupon they both began laughing into their damp handkerchiefs. "One more ice-cream soda and I'd do it," said Lottie.
"But, Lottie, he's terrible!"
"I know. But I've decided I prefer him that way. Compare him, I mean, with Gus Brubacker, back home, or Oscy Deschauer. Besides, he told me to tell you he had a fine tenor voice."
"What'll we talk about?"
"What?"
"What'll we talk about? What'll we talk about when we're married?"
"Oh, he's full of conversation. Didn't you hear him telling me all about the ice that used to be over Kansas City? Besides, he's so rich that you can have a radio."
"Is he rich?"
"He talks that way. Hurry, Berta, and make up your mind. He's waiting and he'll think we're laughing at him."
"Lottie, help me! Shall I?"
"Don't ask me! Don't you like him?"
Roberta shook her head, her face suddenly somber. "You know why I could never like him."
"Listen, Berta, he'll never drag that up, never. I know. There's nothing mean about him. He's kind of stupid, but he's good as gold. If you ask me, I say you ought to marry him. Then take him to see papa."
"All right, I will," said Roberta, rising.
"Wait 'til I blow my nose," said Lottie.
While this was going on Brush sat on the bench, thinking. He had taken Lottie's umbrella and was abstractedly tracing initials on the gravel: a large R for Roberta, then an A for Adele, the widow to whom he had proposed marriage on his twenty-first birthday; and F for Frances, Miss Smith, his chemistry teacher in the Ludington High School; at a distance from these initials an M.T. for Marian Truby; whereupon, in a flood of reminiscence, he wrote a J for Jessie Mayhew, a V and S, a C; then erased them all and traced a large R and sat looking at it, Roberta and Lottie were laughing?—laughing or crying?
Finally they came toward him hand in hand. He rose and said: "Before I ask you to marry me again, there's something else I ought to tell you. I forgot to tell you before that I . . . I own a little girl. A friend of mine died and left me his little girl. She's the brightest little girl that you could find anywhere, and I know you'll like her."
This seemed to make no change in the situation and Roberta accepted his proposal.
He took her hand and said: "It's going to be fine, Roberta. You'll see. What you'll want to do will always be the first thing in my mind. At first, though, I'll have to be away a good deal on the road, but I'll write you a letter every day. Later I think I can get the firm to give me the Illinois and Ohio territory. We're going to have a wonderful life together . . . you'll see. There'll be lots of times when we'll be laughing a lot . . . while we're washing the dishes, and so on . . . and soon we'll have a little house of our own. I'm very good at fixing things, like electric lights and furnaces. And I'm good at carpentering, too. I'll build you an arbor in the back yard where you can sit and sew. And Lottie can come and stay with us long as she wants to. We could never find a better friend than Lottie. . . . Don't you think it sounds . . . like it'll be fine?"
Roberta, standing with lowered eyes, said, "Yes."
"I know I'm kind of funny in some ways," he added, smiling, "but that's only these earlier years when I'm trying to think things out. By the time I'm thirty all that kind of thing will be clearer to me, and . . . and it'll all be settled."
They were married on Wednesday and had their photograph taken—Queenie, Elizabeth, Lottie, Roberta, and Brush. Brush received a three-weeks vacation from his firm and they moved into a four-room apartment over a drug store. The first installment was paid on a second-hand edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica. On the first Sunday after the wedding the Weyerhauser family came into town from the farm to go to church with them and to stay to Sunday dinner. Brush sat at the end of the pew, his arm lightly but proudly lying along the back of it. During the sermon Elizabeth put her head on his lap and went to sleep, and his eyes made a guarded journey about the congregation to ascertain how other fathers met this situation. After church the three younger women busied themselves in the kitchen. Mrs. Weyerhauser had the shock of hearing herself called Grandma—for, Herb having died, Brush and Roberta were now Papa and Ma. The manners of the host and his father-in-law towards one another were still somewhat stately, but they gave promise of becoming more easy with time.
Apparently all was well with the new household, but only apparently, for some flaws began very gradually to reveal themselves. Roberta had been correct in her doubt as to what they would talk about when they were married. For some reason Brush, who had never in his life been at a loss for things to talk about, now found himself hard put to it to fill the long evenings with interesting matter. He took to taking notes during the day on subjects that would serve, and when Roberta called him to dinner he would take out his purse and run his eyes over the topics he had collected. He tried putting forth some of the theories that never ceased fermenting in his mind, and though Roberta listened with lowered eyes (their eyes never met at any time) he found that his eagerness to propound them had somehow left him in this company. He discovered that there was one subject that never failed to arouse Roberta's interest—the lives and appearance of motion-picture actors—and he took to culling from the papers such items on these subjects as were suitable for retelling in a Christian home.
Another flaw appeared when Brush became aware that he and Roberta were engaged in a furtive, unceasing, game of strategy to obtain the first place in Elizabeth's affection. The worst of it for Brush lay in the fact that Elizabeth all too often showed a marked preference for himself. This filled him with a satisfaction of which he was soon ashamed. He tried time after time to give the advantage to Roberta, only to be filled with ignoble pleasure when the effort did not succeed.
On the last night before he set out on his long three-months trip (the firm of Caulkins assured him that his approach suited the southern territory more than the northern and refused to consider his application for a change) Lottie came into Kansas City for the farewell dinner. She had a long, earnest conversation with Roberta in the afternoon, and during dinner Brush noted that they had both been crying. He looked at them in surprise, but made no comment. That was left to Elizabeth.
"Mamma cried," said Elizabeth.
"Eat prettily now!" said Roberta, hastily.
Brush was about to inquire further, when he caught sight of Lottie's raised eyebrows sending him a signal.
Brush had a theory that children should be permitted to see the stars. The custom that put them to bed at dusk seemed to him to overlook the fact that a frequent view of the stars was an important element in the spiritual education of mankind. For this evening he had obtained permission to delay Elizabeth's retirement until after dark. Roberta dressed her for the open air and Brush carried her up the ladder to the trap door that opened upon the roof. He moved a soap-box across the floor of tar paper and gravel to the chimney and, seating himself on it, held Elizabeth in his arms and waited for the benefits to show themselves. The child lay humming contentedly to herself, and looking down at her, Brush seemed to observe a strange indifference to the sky. She smiled up at him, a smile that seemed to allude to their wickedness in evading her mother's rules on an early departure to bed.
They were silent for a time. Then Brush put her to her nightly test.
"What's your name?"
"Elizabeth Martin Brush."
"What do you do if you're lost?"
"Policeman."
"Where do you live?"
"Twelve twelve Brinkley Street."
"What do you do?"
"Tell the trufe . . ."
"Yes."
". . . love God . . ."
"Yes."
". . . and brush my teef."
"That's right."
She was able to tell what country she belonged to; she counted to twenty, and repeated a portion of the alphabet. She was then allowed to relax. After a long silence he looked down to see that her wide eyes were gazing tranquilly at the stars.
The trap door was raised. "She ought to go to bed now, dear," said Roberta.
"All right. We're coming."
Roberta waited, holding the trap door open. As he took it he said in a low voice: "Roberta, is something the matter?"
She made no answer. While Elizabeth was being put to bed, Brush sat by Lottie, having another cup of coffee. Lottie's face was thoughtful. She played with the spoon in her saucer.
"George," she said, "there's no need to keep up this apartment while you're gone so long. Why can't Roberta come back to the farm? There's plenty for her to do there and it would be much better for the baby, especially when the hot weather comes."
"But, Lottie, this is our home. I think it's very important that a married couple has a separate home of their own, even if the husband has to be away some of the time."
"George, are you very happy with Roberta?"
"Why, yes, of course! I'm the happiest man in town. It's not like you, Lottie, to ask things like that."
"Roberta wants to go back to the farm."
There was silence for a minute, then Brush said: "I'll give up the business. I'll get a job in town here somewhere . . . because my home's more important to me than my business is."
"No, that wouldn't help. George, I don't want to hurt you or anything. . . . We're both tremendously fond of you, George, you know that. But . . ."
"What is it? What are you trying to say?"
"George, don't you see? Roberta wants to live alone."
Brush turned white, but did not raise his eyes. Then he rose and said: "I think I'd better take a walk."
Lottie went to him and put her arm around his shoulder and said: "George, don't be mad at me. I'm only trying to help you see what's best."
Brush muttered: "But that's terrible. I don't see how you can say a thing like that."
"George, you're both awfully nice people, but you know as well as I do that you don't really suit each other. Everything's fine now; you've been married and that awful thing in the past is all settled and forgotten. Don't you think—?"
But by now Brush was standing by the door with blazing eyes. He said: "Are you going to be one of those city people, too, with ideas like that? I'm ashamed of you, Lottie. Don't you know about God's laws? Roberta and I have been married and we'll be married until we die. The only reason you can say a thing like that is because you've never been married and don't know what an important thing it is. Roberta and I are one person, don't you understand that? I'm going for a walk. I've got to get some air."
Roberta had come into the room. "All I want is to live by myself, George," she said. "I like you very much, George, but . . . we're different, you know we are." Whereupon she rushed into the kitchen, shutting the door behind her.
Brush said: "Isn't this just what all married people go through? . . . and then they come out of it?"
"George!" said Lottie, sadly.
Brush put on his hat and coat. Then he said: "Why don't you say it right out? You want me to get a divorce like all those people in the newspapers, and so go on smoking and . . . giggling and drinking to the cemetery. That's what you want. You want us to lead lives like . . . like senseless, silly people that have no ideas and no religion and no thoughts about the human race. It's not important if Roberta and I are different, as she calls it. It's not important if we don't get on like some couples do. We're married, and it's for the good of society and morals that we stay together until we die."
"George," said Lottie, in a level voice, "go into the kitchen and tell Roberta you love her more than anyone in the world. More than anybody ever loved anybody else. Go on. Go on, do it. That's what a marriage promise is."
They looked at one another darkly.
"Let her have Elizabeth," continued Lottie. "She'll be perfectly happy with her; but don't make her stay in this apartment for three months, pretending that she's waiting for the—"
Brush's train left at midnight. His suitcases stood ready beside the door. He picked them up, then suddenly in wild emotion hurled them against the wall.
"I don't want to go on!" he cried. "What good does it do to go to work if I haven't got a home to work for?" He put his hands over his face. "I don't want to live," he said. "Everything goes wrong."
Lottie went over to him. She tried to pull one of his hands down from his face, but he would not let it go.
"George, don't act so," she said, quietly. "You're the finest person I ever knew . . . but this is an entirely different kind of thing. Be frank, look at things simply. See? Be kind to Roberta; this is the way to be kind to Roberta."
He put his hands down and looked at her. "Isn't the principle of a thing more important than the people that live under the principle?" he asked.
"Nobody's strong enough to live up to the rules," said Lottie, with the beginning of a smile in her gravity. "I guess we're all allowed an exception once in a while. . . . Say a nice good-by to Roberta."
Roberta had silently come into the room. He kissed them both good-by and, although it was only nine o'clock, went to the station. He walked around the station feverishly, then went up to one of the shops.
"Do you sell pipes?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I'll take one . . . that one. What's the best kind of pipe tobacco that you've got?"
With his new possessions he went into the smoking-room and tried to look matters over in a new light.
Chapter 13
George Brush loses something. Last news of Father Pasziewski. Thoughts on arriving at the age of twenty-four.
Again George Brush set out on the long swing of the pendulum to Abilene, Texas, resuming the life in trains, buses, street cars and blank hotel bedrooms, his evenings spent in public libraries, and the long walks at night encircling the towns he was visiting. He refused to recognize the profound dejection that filled him; he pretended that he was enjoying his work, his Sundays, and his reading. There were two things that now somewhat mitigated his depression; one was his pipe, the other was his study of the German language. Caulkins and Company had decided to put out a First and Second German Reader, and as usual Brush felt himself called upon to make a personal experience of their superiority. He memorized the paradigms and wrote out all the exercises. He found three misprints. He learned by heart "Du bist wie eine Blume" and "The Lorelei." He began talking to himself and thinking in hog-German. He no longer lived by voluntary poverty, and with the addition of Herb's money he grew incredibly wealthy; he had over eight hundred dollars. Out of this superfluity he bought himself a portable gramophone, and while he was dressing he played himself the German instruction records. He became very enthusiastic about the German classics and prolonged all his conversations with the German teachers he called upon; Caulkins' Readers sold in great numbers.
But these consolations were more apparent than real. They could not conceal the stab of physical pain that went through him when, on the evening walks, he glimpsed through half-drawn blinds the felicities of an American home, or when in church he discovered that the old-fashioned hymns no longer had the power to render him inexplicably happy. From time to time whole nights passed without his being able to sleep; occasionally he sat down to a meal, only to discover that he had no appetite whatever.
One day he arose to discover, quite simply, that he had lost his faith. It was as though in some painless way he had lost his arms and legs. At first his only emotion was astonishment. He looked about him; he had mislaid something that would turn up presently. But it did not turn up and the astonishment was followed by a mood of cynical exhilaration. When he went to bed he would find himself falling on his knees as usual, but he would spring up at once, a little guiltily, and, getting into bed, would lie there, smiling grimly at the ceiling. "Es ist nichts da," he would mutter aloud to the sky, "gar nichts."
For a while this gave his life and his business interviews a new energy. Now he laughed and talked more in the chance encounters on trains and in hotels. He spent his evenings at the movies, laughing long and loudly at the least pretext. He began to take advantage of his expense account recklessly; he chose the dollar dinner, with steak, rather than the sixty-cent dinner, vegetable plate, or sausage and potatoes.
By the time he reached Texas something was happening to his health, and finally at Trowbridge, in western Texas, he went to the hospital. The doctor was puzzled and then alarmed. Apparently Brush had a little of everything. There was a touch of amœbic dysentery and a suggestion of sinus; there was something of rheumatism and more than a hint of jaundice. His respiratory organs weren't right, a kind of asthma, and his heart had a murmur. The whole machine had run down and he grew worse daily. He lay in the hospital for weeks, his face turned to the wall. His few remarks were quotations from King Lear translated into bad German. He knew what was the matter with him and on one occasion tried to explain to the doctor his theory of sickness, but he soon gave it up with the words: "Ich sterbe, du stirbst, er stirbt, sie und es stirbt; wir sterben, ihr sterbet, sie sterben, sie sterben." When he first arrived at the hospital he had filled out a card, giving his name, age, and business address, and the hospital office had written to Caulkins and Company about his condition. A number of letters from the firm and forwarded by the firm had come to him, but Brush left them unopened on the table by his bed.
Brush had had very little to do with hospitals, but he had a theory that trained nurses were the true priestesses of our time. Whenever he saw or met one he gazed upon her with profound admiration and reverence. Miss Colloquer, who was assigned to him, was faultless in the performance of her duties, but she seemed to have no inkling of the higher qualities that Brush expected of her.
One day she put her head around the edge of the screen that protected him. "Asleepums?" she asked, softly.
"No."
"Here's a nice, nice caller to see you," she said, straightening the sheets into a long line across his chest. "It's Dr. Bowie. He's my minister at the First Methodist. You want to see him, don't you?"
Brush shook his head.
"Oh yes, you do. He's a werry, werry nice man. Now let me make you booful a minute," she said, straightening the part in his hair, "There! Oo's a perfect lamb, yes, you are. As good as gold. Come in Dr. Bowie."
Dr. Bowie was an elderly, bearded man, wearing a frayed frock coat; a black string tie was tied about the collar of his blue flannel shirt. He came from a long talk with the director of the hospital.
Brush with both hands held his pillow over his eyes. He lowered it for a moment, glanced at his visitor, and replaced it on his forehead.
"What's this? What's this, my dear boy?" asked Dr. Bowie, drawing up his chair by Brush's bed. Brush did not answer. Dr. Bowie lowered his voice: "Now, isn't there anything you want to tell me?" Brush still did not answer. Dr. Bowie was slightly antagonized, but he controlled himself. "The doctor tells me that you're a sick man, a pretty sick man, my boy. We must think of that, yes, sir." He brought out a questionnaire blank and laid it surreptitiously on his knees, and drew out a pencil. "Are your dear parents living, Mr. Brush?"
The pillow moved up and down.
"Now don't you think we'd better telegraph them that you're sick? Don't you think that you'd get well right off if your father or your dear mother were here?"
"No," said Brush.
"What are their names and addresses?"
Brush gave the answer and Dr. Bowie licked his pencil and wrote it down. It turned out that Brush was a married man also, and Roberta's address was recorded, with the date of the marriage.
Dr. Bowie consulted the next question and murmured "Mm—no children—?"
"Two," said Brush. "One that's alive and one that's dead. The live one is Elizabeth Martin Brush. She's four. And the dead one's name is . . . is . . ." He consulted the ceiling, then added with decision . . . "is named David."
Dr. Bowie's eyebrows rose, but he recorded the facts. "Now isn't there some message you'd like to give me for your family, Mr. Brush?"
"No."
Dr. Bowie laid aside his paper a moment. "I want you to think seriously for a moment, my dear boy. I certainly hope that God will restore you soon to a life of Christian usefulness; but God's will is not always our will. He calls us when he wants us. Have you any church affiliation, may I ask?"
Brush took the pillow away from his forehead. "No," he said, clearly. "None."
Dr. Bowie drew in his chin and cleared his throat. "Now a great many people, a great many, have found it a comfort—what a comfort!—to ask forgiveness of God in the presence of his minister—oh, my boy!—for the things they've done wrong in this life. It lightens the load, my brother."
Brush's mouth straightened out. "I've broken all the Ten Commandments, except two," he answered. "I never killed anybody and I never made any graven images. Many's the time I almost killed myself, though, and I'm not joking. I never was tempted by idols, but I guess that would have come along any day. I don't say these things to you because I'm sorry, but because I don't like your tone of voice. I'm glad I did these things and I wish I'd done them more. I made the mistake all my life of thinking that you could get better and better until you were perfect."
There was a long pause. Dr. Bowie swallowed his soft palate several times; then said, in a feeble voice: "In spite of that, Mr. Brush, it has always been my custom at the bedside of patients . . . in a critical condition . . . to say a few . . . words of prayer."
Brush raised his head a moment and looked at him fiercely. "Don't!" he said.
"My boy, my boy!" replied the other, his hands fluttering in midair.
"If there were a God he wouldn't like it," cried Brush, with unexpected force. "Don't you know that you're not supposed to ask for . . . for facts?"
"Mr. Brush!"
"You're only supposed to ask for things like being good or having faith or something like that."
"Very well . . . ah . . . !"
"But it doesn't get you anywhere. Look at me. The more I asked the worse I got. Everything I did was wrong. Everybody I knew got to hate me. So that proves it. When you were young I guess you asked to be all those things; and yet look at you; you're pretty stupid, if I must say so, and dry and . . . I'll bet you even believe in war."
Dr. Bowie had risen in horror and was nervously gathering together his questionnaire, hat, raincoat, cane, and Bible. Brush continued: "The second thing that shows that there is no God is that he allows such foolish people to be ministers. I've secretly thought that for a long time, and now I'm glad to be able to say it. All ministers are stupid—do you hear me—all. . . . I mean all except one."
Dr. Bowie's anger had so risen that his horror was gone. He leaned over Brush. "Young man," he said, distinctly, "are those the words and thoughts you're going to die with?"
They stared at one another. Brush greatly weakened by his outburst, closed his eyes. "No," he said. ". . . I'm sorry."
"I realize you're a sick man. I hope you'll think over the foolish proud things you've said. I'll come and see you again." He stood looking at Brush's closed eyes a moment. Then he said: "There seems to be a good deal of mail for you here. Would you like me to read it to you?"
"No. There's not a letter in the world that would interest me at all."
Miss Colloquer had come in, smiling. "Dr. Bowie, do open that little package that's come. Perhaps it's a present for Mr. Brush. You'll let him open it, won't you, Mr. Brush? It's from Kansas City."
Brush nodded wearily.
Dr. Bowie opened it. In the tissue paper lay an ordinary silver-plated spoon.
Miss Colloquer loved a mystery and would not let the matter rest until they had found the letter that accompanied the present. It was from a Marcella L. Craven. It said that she hoped Mr. Brush was well and enjoying his work. The boys on the top floor were all well and still had jobs. Roberta and Lottie and Elizabeth had paid a call on her one day and they were in fine health. The writer hoped Mr. Brush would come back soon because Elizabeth wanted more lessons. "She couldn't be fonder of you if you were her own father, Mr. Brush, that's the truth. I forget if I told you that Father Pasziewski died. I will tell you the details about it when you come. Mrs. Kandinsky and I called on him a few days before he died. And it seemed he knew he was going to die and he wanted to give us something to remember him by. So he sent Anna into the dining-room and he gave us each a spoon. And he asked me to give you a spoon from him, too. He said it was a sort of foolish thing to give, but that perhaps you could use a spoon some way. I told him you liked to hear about him, Mr. Brush, and he seemed to have a special feeling about you. It's a terrible pity you never met."
"Don't read any more," said Brush. "Thank you," and holding the spoon in his hand he turned his face to the wall. Then looking back a minute he asked: "What day is today, Miss Colloquer—what day of the week?"
"Why, today's Friday."
"Thank you."
From that day he began to get well. At first he was silent and thoughtful, but gradually the talkativeness began to reappear, and finally he was able to resume his itinerary. He so arranged his appointments that he was able to revisit Wellington, Oklahoma, on his twenty-fourth birthday. He returned to the path through the deep weeds and came to the pond near the deserted brick factory. Again there were turtles on the log; again the bird-calls foretold a hot day. He lay flat on his face and finally fell asleep, but not before he had passed an earnest hour. A few days later in Killam, a man heard him sing at a community-chest bazaar and offered him a good deal of money to sing on the radio in Chicago. Brush said he'd like to do it, but that his route didn't pass through Chicago. The man doubled his offer; Brush replied that he'd do it free of charge, but that his route didn't pass through Chicago. The next day in Lockburn, Missouri, Brush came upon a very pretty waitress reading Darwin's The Cruise of the "Beagle" in her spare time. He arranged to put her through college. The next week, the manager and guests of Bishop's Hotel at Tohoki, in the same state, were astonished to discover that one of their number, a tall solidly built young man, had suddenly lost the use of his voice and was communicating with the outside world by means of pencil and paper. Several days later, in Dakins, Kansas, the same traveler was arrested and confined for a few hours in the jail. The charge was later found to have been based on a misunderstanding. He was released and continued on his journey.
Afterword
OVERVIEW
Thornton Wilder began writing Heaven's My Destination in 1932 and intended to complete it by April 1933 so that his publishers would have plenty of time to prepare for the all-important Christmas trade. By November 1932, when Wilder felt he was a third done, he described the book in this ambitious manner to his close friend the English hostess and interior decorator Lady Sibyl Colfax:
The novel is very funny and very heartrending—a picaresque novel about a young travelling salesman in textbooks, very "fundamentalist" pious, pure and his adventures among the shabby hotels, gas stations and hot dog stands of Eastern Texas, Arkansas, Oklahoma etc. His education, or development from a Dakota "Bible-belt" mind to a modern grossstadt tolerance in three years; i.e. the very journey the American mind has made in fifty years.
Wilder's own journey to Heaven is a tangle composed of his literary enthusiasms (especially important for this author), his experiences as a wage earner and citizen in the early years of the Great Depression, his temperament, and, perhaps most important of all, his background and upbringing.
The principal literary influence driving the book is the picaresque literary form, a subject of great interest to Wilder. By 1930, when his "Picaresque: Baptist 'Don Quixote' " appeared in a list of projects he envisioned, he was teaching Cervantes' Don Quixote in lecture courses at the University of Chicago. This literary inspiration for the novel was no secret: when Heaven's My Destination was published, the reference was heavily marketed in the Book-of-the-Month Club News and mentioned on the back of the dust jacket as Wilder's "modern American Don Quixote."
Of equal influence on the novel's dialogue, atmosphere, and setting were the extensive and professionally managed lecture tours that took up as much as two months of Wilder's time and energy each year beginning in 1929 and continuing into 1937. Wilder saw Depression-era America close-up as he traveled the country by train, and key lecture forays took him through Texas and Oklahoma on to the epicenter of his novel, Kansas City. As Wilder said to his German translator, "It is written in the most limited local dialect of Middle West and is saturated with the atmosphere of a certain type of the American mind."
At a deep level, George Brush's story is also an exploration and synthesis of the idealistic and ethical elements Wilder inherited from his father and recognized in his older brother, Amos, and himself. While he never hid it privately, Wilder did not publicly reveal this identification until some years after the book was published: "George Brush, that's me!" he told a reporter in 1953. In a letter to his publisher's editor in chief shortly before Heaven was published, Wilder explored this matter in some detail:
Naturally I'm very fond of the book; it's all about my father and my brother and myself, and my years among the missionaries in China, and my two years at Oberlin College, and the Texas and Oklahoma of my lecture tours. It appears to be an objective novel reporting merely the seen and heard; but it is really flagrantly subjective and it will be many years before I will be able to stand off and appraise it, if at all.
The book's two epigraphs hint at this deeper level, and the implied stresses and strains of growing up and getting educated in a contrary world—as a Wilder.
George Brush is my name;
America's my nation.
Ludington's my dwelling-place
And Heaven's my destination.
This doggerel, which Wilder suggested that "children of the Middle West were accustomed to write in their schoolbooks," was, in fact, an homage to the great coming-of-age novel that influenced Wilder and his generation: James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist As Young Man. These verses appear as follows in that book, first published in serial form in 1914:
Stephen Dedalus is my name.
Ireland is my nation.
Congowes is my dwelling place
And heaven my expectation.
The second epigraph, "Of all forms of genius, goodness has the longest awkward age," comes from Wilder's own novel, The Woman of Andros (1930). The words appear in a scene in which a young man self-righteously and publicly condemns the book's heroine, Chrysis, for being a prostitute. Her rejoinder, said magnanimously and with "grave affection," was to take his hand and say, "It is true that of all forms of genius, goodness has the longest awkward age."
Amid a group of aphorisms Wilder drafted in 1928, the almost exact language appears in his journal at the time he began work on Andros: "The so-called Christers at Yale: of all forms of genius goodness has the longest awkward age." In this period—and indeed later—the word "Christers" was a code word, used honorably or derisively, to describe the Yale undergraduates who carried out good works in New Haven through Dwight Hall, the campus YMCA, an institution that Wilder's father championed and in which his older brother, Amos, was active. However described, the YMCA was an organization in which George Brush would have felt at home.
Thanks to Wilder's notes and letters, we know that he began writing Heaven's My Destination on June 15, 1932, at the MacDowell Colony, the artists' retreat center in Peterborough, New Hampshire, he was visiting frequently in this period. He finished the novel on September 28, 1934, during a two-week stay at another artists' retreat of sorts, Mabel Dodge Luhan's ranch in Taos, New Mexico. The original projected delivery date of April 1933 had long passed, but Wilder had honorable reasons for not completing the book earlier. During this period, he was the sole support for what he called "the House of Wilder"—his parents; his two younger sisters, including, for one of them, college tuition; the upkeep of the Hamden, Connecticut, house that The Bridge of San Luis Rey built; and his own considerable professional and personal expenses. With the international success of The Bridge, cash flow was not a problem until the early 1930s, when royalty income fell precipitously and his net income dramatically—from over $40,000 in 1930 to $13,300 in 1931, and to $9,200 in 1932 and $6,700 in 1933. Consequently, he was forced to seek odd jobs to supplement the money he received from teaching and lecturing and other minor sources such as royalties from his new one-act plays, among them The Happy Journey to Trenton and Camden and The Long Christmas Dinner, now being acted in schools and "little theaters" throughout the country.
This he did in 1932 by translating (not a successful venture because Lucrece, the one play to reach Broadway, failed), and in 1934 by scriptwriting in Hollywood (good money, great experience, and much fun). But he lost precious weeks of freedom to work on Heaven, and had to all but flee from Hollywood to Luhan's ranch to complete the novel, turning down a major writing job on a Garbo film to do so. He had another picture in mind, however—a film version of Heaven's My Destination. From the ranch he confided to his attorney that "Frank Capra (Columbia) and Gary Cooper" were the "one director and one star who could suit it," a deal that his Hollywood agent, Rosalie Steward, was working on as late as 1954, but never quite pulled off. Many attempts since, all futile, have made been made to put George Brush on the big screen.
To Lady Colfax, he wrote these words about the completed book which has the imprint of Hollywood (and the stage) on it in its compressed, scenic style:
The novel is very good. Less of course than the wonderful germ-subject promised when first it dangled before my imagination, but still one of the best things ever said about the American mind, and the poor struggling 126 millions forever alternating between the ethical puritan aspiration and the busy realist vainglory.
As Wilder was finishing Heaven's My Destination, his sister Isabel wrote to her brother's attorney and adviser, Dwight Dana, "It is excellent and we can't help but trust that others will recognize its merits although a large part of his 'public' will have to adjust themselves to the idea of the tremendous versatility in the author of 'The Bridge' which this reveals."
Of Thornton Wilder's first three novels, none was more famous (then and now) than The Bridge of San Luis Rey, whose sensational success in 1927 led the Pulitzer Prize committee to depart from normal practice and bestow its award on a story laid outside the United States. By the mid-1930s thousands of readers around the world had discovered Wilder's first three novels, The Cabala, The Bridge of San Luis Rey, and The Woman of Andros, all of which dealt with esoteric characters and universal themes, set in exotic times and places. Heaven's My Destination introduced Wilder's public to George Brush, traveling salesman, and "his adventures among the shabby hotels, gas stations and hot dog stands of Eastern Texas, Arkansas, Oklahoma, etc." Would his public remain loyal for a book that was completely different in tone and subject from the three earlier novels? Wilder raised his own red flag to Dwight Dana, predicting that his North American publishers would probably be "bewildered" by it. This was certainly the situation with his publisher, the firm of Albert and Charles Boni, then stepping out of active publishing in any case. As Wilder recalled it later, Albert Boni "made it clear that I had no feeling for the American scene and that humor was not for me—and he liked it so little that he gave up the rights." On August 29, 1934, Harper & Brothers, for various considerations and an advance of $4,000, brought the publishing rights to Heaven from the Boni interests.
Because Wilder had permitted his publishers to set much of the manuscript in type—all but the last chapter had been handed over before September 1934—his British publisher, Longmans Green, was able to publish Heaven on December 3, 1934, while Harper & Brothers brought it out officially a month later, on January 2, 1935. All told, the book was subsequently translated into nine languages.
Was Harper nervous about the book's prospects? More than half of the back page of the dust jacket was devoted in twelve-point type to a "Truth in Advertising" statement:
THE FACT of first importance for the many thousands of readers of Thornton Wilder's books is that each novel has been an unexpected and original treatment of themes deeply embedded in human emotions and experiences of all of us. This new novel is no exception. The element of surprise will take the reader's breath away for its sheer novelty, but will not diminish the shock of the electric charge. . . .
His readers did not desert him. To the apparent surprise of his publishers, Heaven's My Destination was chosen as the main selection for the major book clubs in both the United States and the United Kingdom, and sales were strong enough over the year to earn Heaven the seventh place on the 1935 list of ten best-selling novels. So fast did books fly out of the door in January that the author heard on the grapevine that Harper had to borrow ten thousand copies from the Book-of-the-Month Club to meet demand. Altogether in 1934–1935, for telling the story of George Brush, Wilder earned $27,000. This figure not only restored his bank account, enabling him to provide for his parents and sisters and maintain the family home, but also made it possible for him to begin to break free from teaching and lecturing jobs to devote himself entirely to writing plays. While Wilder's path to playwriting in this period is a complicated story, there is truth in the statement that the most famous George in Wilder work, George Gibbs in Our Town, owes a debt for his birth to his older cousin, George Brush.
The book's popularity was mirrored by a strong and favorable critical reception on both sides of the Atlantic, especially in England where its humor and its portrait of an American type were enthusiastically received. William Plomer, in The Spectator, spoke for many when he hailed it as "an uncommonly skillful and good-natured entertainment." Only a handful of reviewers panned it completely, while the great majority found many good things to say about the novel, at the same time expressing their collective surprise at how different Heaven was from Wilder's earlier fiction.
Praise, however, shared space with many questions, for the typical critic remained "puzzled" (a widely used verb) by what Wilder was getting at. Had he written a satire, a comedy, a farce—what? Ted Robinson, in the Cleveland Plain Dealer, thought he knew, calling the novel an "uproarious farce" and predicting that "in a week or so everyone in the country will be reading it." More typical was John Chamberlain's view in the New York Herald Tribune. He found the book "unusual and entertaining" but asked "what is [Wilder's] intention?" Donald Adams in the important New York Times review summed up the issue beautifully. He said Heaven "will be read for its forthright entertainment; it will be discussed for its ambiguity."
Inevitably, too, reviewers compared Heaven's My Destination—and not unfavorably—with Wilder's blockbuster, The Bridge of San Luis Rey, noting that philosophical and moral themes appear in both works, despite the striking differences in setting, character and style. No reviewer knotted the two books together tighter than Henry Seidel Canby, who knew Wilder. In the Book-of-the-Month Club News, Canby sagely observed, "The truth of the matter is that Heaven's My Destination is just The Bridge of San Luis Rey written over and again in homely humorous Americanese. It is the same unworldliness marveling at the world and its inexplicable complications when it is so simple to the good."
Critics who panned Heaven found the story unpersuasive, bloodless, and innocuous. For Herschell Bricknell in the North American Review, Heaven lacked "blood and bones" and was "not of any particular importance." The distinguished critic R. P. Blackmur, writing in The Nation, found that Wilder's treatment of the theme of goodness lacked "authority."
No review of the history of Heaven's critical reception would be complete without recalling the brouhaha resulting from Marxist critic Mike Gold's 2,300-word assault on Wilder's published works (then three novels and one book of short plays) in the October 22, 1930, issue of The New Republic. In harsh language, Gold had painted Wilder a poster boy for a genteel bourgeois literary tradition devoted to hiding from "real" problems and subjects. "Where are the modern streets of New York, Chicago and New Orleans?" Gold asked of an author whose work he summarized as a "synthesis of all the chambermaid literature, Sunday-school tracts and boulevard piety there ever was." He concluded his diatribe with a challenge: "Let Mr. Wilder write a book about modern America. We predict it will reveal all his fundamental silliness and superficiality, now hidden under a Greek chlamys." The challenge was first met by an outpouring of letters, of which twenty-seven were published, the majority defending Wilder, in six of the next seven issues of the magazine until, on December 17, 1930, the editors called the Gold-Wilder controversy "on account of darkness."
Wilder never responded publicly to Gold. Privately he found it a "wretched affair," and appears to have let it go. By the time Heaven was published, Gold's challenge was mentioned, and then often obliquely, by just a handful of critics. A notable exception was an influential review in The New Republic itself by Edmund Wilson, an admirer of Wilder's and the NR editor who had been involved in and commented thoughtfully on the earlier controversy. Not only did Wilson praise Heaven—"much Mr. Wilder's best novel"—but he also believed that the Wilder novel was written specifically to answer Mike Gold's challenge. This view of the source of Heaven continues to be cited in standard studies of Wilder's work, despite the author's denial recorded in Daniel Aaron's seminal Writers on the Left: Episodes in American Literary Communism (1961). Revisiting the matter himself twenty years later, Aaron summarized the issue this way: "Wilder, the genial lay-preacher and histrio, is closer in spirit to Cervantes (the real inspirer of his novel, not as Edmund Wilson believed, the attack of Mike Gold), and his teasing satire on human aberration implies no despair or alienation."
And what was Wilder's view of the critics' questions about what he was up to? He explained himself forthrightly to his friend Rosemary Ames soon after publication:
My book's selling like pancakes but almost everybody misunderstands it. I should worry.
It's no satire. The hero's not a boob or a sap.
George Brush at his best is everybody.
—Tappan Wilder
Chevy Chase, Maryland
READINGS
A NEW WILDER NOVEL AVAILABLE
This 1935 postcard announcing Heaven's My Destination highlights two selling points of undeniable interest to any informed reader: a novel by the acclaimed author or The Bridge of San Luis Rey inspired by the world's first great novel, Don Quixote. The small print reads:
The author of one of the most popular books
of his generation offers the story of a modern
Don Quixote—a novel as moving and as
finely written as anything he has ever done.
A BAPTIST DON QUIXOTE
On June 27, 1930, with The Woman of Andros published and selling well and a free summer ahead, Wilder drew up this eclectic list of eight "projects to chose among." The third under fiction (the second of two "picaresque" ideas) is the first sighting of Heaven's My Destination in Wilder's records and only one of two from this list to be developed into published works. The other is the Far Inglun idea developed into the short story "The Battleship," published in 1936. Jed Harris was the producer-director of Our Town (1938). The text of this list appears below.
(Deepwood Drive, New Haven, June 27 1930) Now after six months work I have free time to work again and I have the following projects to choose among:
NOVELS OR NOUVELLES
1) Captain Faring: (the group: the nun: the children: alcohol).
2) Picaresque: "Lafcadio" Spanglian Europe: diary: "I have been reading Casanova": "Who was my mother?" "I mean to be a writer."
3) Picaresque: Baptist "Don Quixote." Selling educational textbooks through Texas. Oklahoma etc.
4) Far Inglun: The castaway civilization.
5) The Empress of Trebigond: hommage à Händel
PLAYS
1) Capt. Faring. See Entry 71 in this book.
2) The Pilgrims (long talk with Jed Harris two days ago about this.)
3) The house in Concord, N.H. Criminals return to the scene of the crime. The cult of love & hate. The sentiment of all old houses = those who have died in them. The Indian mound; the 1790 builder who fell from the roof. "What will it matter in a 100 years?"
4) The pension on the Riviera. "See that little plump feminine widow: across the barriers of language, social background and poverty: she will adle [?] a man." "Nature only eager to fill as many go carts as possible."
IN HANDWRITTEN FORM
This "4th copying of the opening" draft of the novel's opening lines, the text of which appears below, shows the epigraph drawn from lines in The Woman of Andros. Later drafts tighten the language and deepen characterization. Wilder changed Brush's middle name to Marvin, possibly because Marvin was a family name. In 1928, Wilder contracted to give 144 lectures. When asked to give more after completing his obligation in 1937, he said, with George Brush on his shoulder, "I'd love the towns and hotels and trains—if there were no lectures." Misspellings in the draft remain as Wilder wrote them.
4th copying of the opening
"Of all forms of genius, goodness has the longest awkward age."
Chapter One: George Brush attempts to save souls in Texas, Arkansas and Oklahoma. His Theory of Poverty. His Criminal Record: Incarceration Number Two.
One morning in the late summer of 1930 the proprietor and several guests of the Union Hotel at Cresterego [in Western Texas], Texas were annoyed to discover Biblical texts freshly written across the blotter on the public writing desk. The next morning the guests at McCarty's Inn, Usquepaw, in the same state were similarly irritated, and the manager of the Gem Theatre next door was terrified by the spectacle of a young man who tore down and trampled upon a poster advertising a motion picture being exhibited there. The same evening a young man passing the First Baptist Church and seeing the announcement that the Annual Bible Question Bee was to take place, paid his fifteen cents, took his place against the wall and won the first prize, his final triumph being his recitation of the Kings of Judah backwards. The next night several passengers on the Pullman car Quarretch bound for Saint Louis Dallas were startled to discover a man in pyjamas kneeling and saying his prayers in the aisle before his berth. His concentration was not shaken when copies of the Western Magazine and Screen Features hit him sharply in the back. The next morning a lady who had retired to the platform to enjoy a meditative cigarette after breakfast returned to her seat to discover that someone had written across her window with a piece of soap the words: "Women who smoke are unfit to be mothers." A business card had been inserted at the corner of the pane. It read: "George Mercer Brush. Representing the Clay Educational Press, New York, Boston, Chicago. Publishers of Caulkins' Arithmatics and Algebras, and other superior textbooks for schools and colleges."
George M. Brush This moralist and sensor descended from the train at Wellington Arkansas and settled himself at the Wellington House where some exigency in his business required his remaining for three days. He passed the time in taking long walks, in memorizing a speech of Abraham Lincoln's, in reading the Encyclopedia Brittanica at the Public Library and in troubling the librarian to find everything she could for him that had to do with Mahatma Ghandi. He fell into conversation with eleven people; of eleven of them he eventually asked whether they were saved. He made notations of these. . . .
TWO LETTERS
Many critics and readers were puzzled by what Wilder was getting at in Heaven. Was George Brush a an idiot, a fool, a boob, etc.? And what did Wilder think about his subject? The following excerpts from two letters reveal the author's feelings about George Marvin Brush.
"DEAR DOC"
This letter was written January 3, 1935, a month after publication, to Dr. Creighton Barker, the Wilder family's physician in New Haven. In his first three novels, of which The Woman of Andros was the third, Wilder consciously explored love, religion, memory, imagination, and other resources at an individual's command to oppose life's inevitable tragedies. He wonders here whether a more explicit statement about what interests him in George and his personal growth and education, might have helped readers better understand his viewpoint. Wilder never revisited the novel to "examine the point" raised in this letter.
There's no satire in it. It's about all of us when young. You're not supposed to notice the humor—you're supposed to look through it at the fellow who not only has the impulse to think out an ethic and plan a life—but actually does it.
George Brush is the continuation and externalization of all the little private illuminations that in other people wilt and die under fear and reticule or under the acquirement of our singularly inadequate world wisdom . . .
Five years from now when the testimonies pro and con have begun to subside, I'm going to examine the point as to whether I made a big lapse of artistic judgement in present[ing] the matter so objectively.
Perhaps the note [epigraph] should have been from phrases from Andros: "How do you live? What do you do first."
"DEAR MR. SAXTON"
The letter is to Eugene Saxton, the editor in chief at Harper & Brothers. It was written on November 20, only weeks before publication. Wilder admits hurrying Heaven at the close, with a possible cost, he suggests gently, of a lack of clarity about George Brush's development and growing wisdom at the end.
I would like to think that the present last chapter ties up the suspended knots however brusquely:
The family-life with Roberta is understood to have been impossible. My sister [Isabel] scolds me when I tell her that for me the important words about that lies in the parenthesis ("Their eyes never met at any time.")
We have seen in the pipe, for example, the breaking up of all that was most rigid and dialectic in his ethical background.
His loss of faith and sickness were just what was needed to instruct him that his faith was hitherto too glib an optimism and too dogmatic a bundle of planks. His insults to the visiting Dr. Bowie show that a lot of fresh air is blowing through his fundamentalism. . . .
His disappearance in the last paragraph shows that he is still the same fellow, trying to think, always turning his experimental thoughts into acts—but after one year's growth, doing it better, less bound, etc.
Except for considerable improvement he is still the same person as in the opening paragraph,—fundamentalist, but more flexible, earnest, but less obstinate; humorless, but wiser.
GEORGE BRUSH IN THE FAMILY
Wilder saw George Brush's idealism as a factor in all youth and all families, and certainly in his father, Amos Parker Wilder (1862–1936); his older brother, Amos (left); and himself, all shown here in a photograph taken in 1915. Their father was determined that his boys not only survive in a world of constant danger and temptation, but also "enter into the larger world and bring knowledge from the stars."
Among the chief ingredients for success were faithful religious practices, the best possible liberal arts education, foreign travel and study, and, for good health and for understanding America and its people, manual work on farms throughout the country. His father's dream for his boys is reflected in one of Wilder's favorite lines from Heaven: "I didn't put myself through college for four years and go through a difficult religious conversion in order to have the same ideas as other people have." This photograph was taken shortly after the senior Wilder's resignation from the consular service in China for health reasons, and the subsequent establishment of the Wilder family home in the New Haven area. Thornton was an Oberlin College freshman and Amos a Yale College junior in 1915.
THE OLDER BROTHER AS INTERPRETER
Thornton Wilder's brother, Amos, was variously amused and troubled by the simplistic use of the term "strict Puritan" to describe his father's religious stance and, by implication, its impact on his brother's life and work. In this extract from Thornton Wilder and His Public (1980), he seeks to set the record straight about the character of the intellectual world in which the Wilder boys grew up, with an emphasis on the father and his values. Amos Niven Wilder (1895–1993) was a clergyman, biblical scholar, poet, and literary critic.
The term "Puritan" applied to our parents and to the culture in our home is . . . imprecise and misleading. It is also an exaggeration to say, as does one biographer, that my brother came of "a long line of New England divines." On the Wilder side they are hard to find in any direct line. The kind of New England tradition represented on our mother's side is suggested by her grandfather, Arthur Tappan, friend of William Lloyd Garrison and himself the first president of the American Anti-Slavery Society (1837). A philanthropist—like his brother Lewis Tappan who financed the defense of the Spanish slaves in the Amistad slave ship case all the way up to the Supreme Court—he helped fund the establishment of Oberlin College because it was the first to welcome Black as well as women students. He and his New York store were repeatedly in danger from proslavery mobs. This kind of Puritan tradition is no reproach.
The kind of piety represented by the Congregationalism on my father's side was similar, as is suggested by the fact that he chose schools like Oberlin, Mt. Holyoke, and Northfield for his children's education. The books of our father in our possession, which are the most marked up and annotated by him, are Boswell's life of Johnson, the four-volume life of Garrison by his sons and Whittier's poems. Favorites in our family Sunday reading along with the Bible were the works of Bunyan, John Woolman, George Fox, and Thoreau. This kind of Nonconformist tradition is very different from some kinds of Bible-belt piety and life-style as well as from familiar strains of Calvinist orthodoxy. . . .
The early Wisconsin years of our family (1894–1906) suggest a number of observations. Although through our parents we had Maine and Hudson River antecedents these were now overlaid with Middle Western experience in depth. It was not just a question of regional but of social variety. A newspaperman like our father was involved in the full gamut of town and country life. Madison, though the state capital and seat of a university, in those days before the motor car was still only a large town. The Wisconsin State Journal served the county and the region. My father's editorials for which he is still remembered show his immersion in the folkways and his plebeian sympathies. Well prepared by his doctorate in political science and his years in journalism in New York and elsewhere, he identified himself vigorously with the "Wisconsin progressivism" of the time which was drawing national attention. But it was especially his inimitable "human-interest" editorials which were cherished and copied far and wide. Here sentiment, fancy, eloquence, and humor combined. Those same antennae for the common life and those fine filaments of the poetic and the histrionic which later evoked Grover's Corners in the son had their antecedents in the father. From his college days at Yale as "fence orator" and Glee Club antic he was remembered as word painter, mimic, and clown. In Wisconsin as scribe and as favored speaker at county fair and at Chautauqua he was a poet and wit of the Midland. . . .
To suggest the today puzzling outlook of this zealous parent—indirectly evoked in the George Brush of Heaven's My Destination—I interject here mention of two of his later editorials, which, as it were, box the compass and illustrate both what would be called narrow-mindedness and its opposite. "The Exposure of a Smarty" refers to a censorship trial of H. L. Mencken in Boston and an article by the latter characterized by the New York Herald Tribune as "revolting." My father's editorial speaks of
this literary mountebank who has too long abused the patience of America which is frankly feeling round for a modern literature and is pressed by this animated brass monkey to accept his leadership. . . . It ought to be possible in sane and sensible Massachusetts to clog and annoy this pestiferous shark of better men's repute and gadfly of the dignities and integrities of life. . . . Every country store and every city group has some irritable dyspeptic man or woman who has lost the vision and enjoys local repute for a sharp tongue and "keen-kutter" capacity. Mencken is the high priest of this sort of thing. . . .
But another aspect of the senior Wilder's zeal appears in another New Haven editorial, "The Passing of Latin." This argument for the retention of the ancient languages in the Yale curriculum was so eloquent that, on the testimony of a well-placed authority, "it forced the Yale Corporation to stay its hand before throwing out the classics."
Acknowledgments
The back matter for this volume is constructed in large part from Thornton Wilder's words in unpublished material or publications not easy to come by. I hope readers will find that this approach brings the work and the man into view in a personal way. Those interested in additional information about Thornton Wilder are referred to standard sources and to the bibliography available at www.thorntonwildersociety.org.
I thank Penelope Niven, Barbara Whitepine, Celeste Fellows, Claudette Walsh, Jenney Wilder, and the staff of Yale's Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library for their help in making this volume possible. I am also grateful to Professor Daniel Aaron, and to Dr. Robin Gibbs Wilder for providing me with helpful information. J. D. McClatchy's enthusiasm for Thornton Wilder in general and Heaven's My Destination in particular has been a high point of this publishing venture.
SOURCES AND PERMISSIONS
With the single exception of his correspondence with Sibyl Colfax, all excerpts quoted from unpublished sources come from Thornton Wilder's correspondence, manuscripts and related records in the Thornton Wilder Collection in the Yale Collection of American Literature (YCAL) in the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, or materials still held or controlled by the Wilder family. Spelling errors have been silently corrected unless otherwise noted. The Sibyl Colfax letters are held in the Thornton Wilder Collection, Fales Manuscripts, Fales Library, New York University, and Marvin J. Taylor's assistance is gratefully acknowledged. In addition to Daniel Aaron's views expressed in Writers on the Left: Episodes in American Literary Communism (1961), the overview cites his opinion expressed in "Morley Callaghan and the Great Depression," David Staines, ed., The Callaghan Symposium (Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 1981), p. 35.
The author photograph was widely used at the time of the novel's publication.
About the Author
In his quiet way, Thornton Niven Wilder was a revolutionary writer who experimented boldly with literary forms and themes, from the beginning to the end of his long career. "Every novel is different from the others," he wrote when he was seventy-five. "The theater (ditto). . . . The thing I'm writing now is again totally unlike anything that preceded it." Wilder's richly diverse settings, characters, and themes are at once specific and global. Deeply immersed in classical as well as contemporary literature, he often fused the traditional and the modern in his novels and plays, all the while exploring the cosmic in the commonplace. In a January 12, 1953, cover story, Time took note of Wilder's unique "interplanetary mind"—his ability to write from a vision that was at once American and universal.
A pivotal figure in the history of twentieth-century letters, Wilder was a novelist and playwright whose works continue to be widely read and produced in this new century. He is the only writer to have won the Pulitzer Prize for both Fiction and Drama. His second novel, The Bridge of San Luis Rey, received the Fiction award in 1928, and he won the prize twice in Drama, for Our Town in 1938 and The Skin of Our Teeth in 1943. His other novels are The Cabala, The Woman of Andros, Heaven's My Destination, The Ides of March, The Eighth Day, and Theophilus North. His other major dramas include The Matchmaker, which was adapted as the internationally acclaimed musical comedy Hello, Dolly!, and The Alcestiad. Among his innovative shorter plays are The Happy Journey to Trenton and Camden and The Long Christmas Dinner, and two uniquely conceived series, The Seven Ages of Man and The Seven Deadly Sins, frequently performed by amateurs.
Wilder and his work received many honors, highlighted by the three Pulitzer Prizes, the Gold Medal for Fiction from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, the Order of Merit (Peru), the Goethe-Plakette der Stadt (Germany, 1959), the Presidential Medal of Freedom (1963), the National Book Committee's first National Medal for Literature (1965), and the National Book Award for Fiction (1967).
He was born in Madison, Wisconsin, on April 17, 1897, to Amos Parker Wilder and Isabella Niven Wilder. The family later lived in China and in California, where Wilder was graduated from Berkeley High School. After two years at Oberlin College, he went on to Yale, where he received his undergraduate degree in 1920. A valuable part of his education took place during summers spent working hard on farms in California, Kentucky, Vermont, Connecticut, and Massachusetts. His father arranged these rigorous "shirtsleeve" jobs for Wilder and his older brother, Amos, as part of their initiation into the American experience.
Thornton Wilder studied archaeology and Italian as a special student at the American Academy in Rome (1920–1921), and earned a master of arts degree in French literature at Princeton in 1926.
In addition to his talents as playwright and novelist, Wilder was an accomplished teacher, essayist, translator, scholar, lecturer, librettist, and screenwriter. In 1942, he teamed with Alfred Hitchcock to write the first draft of the screenplay for the classic thriller Shadow of a Doubt, receiving credit as principal writer and a special screen credit for his "contribution to the preparation" of the production. All but fluent in four languages, Wilder translated and adapted plays by such varied authors as Henrik Ibsen, Jean-Paul Sartre, and André Obey. As a scholar, he conducted significant research on James Joyce's Finnegans Wake and the plays of Spanish dramatist Lope de Vega.
Wilder's friends included a broad spectrum of figures on both sides of the Atlantic—Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Alexander Woollcott, Gene Tunney, Sigmund Freud, producer Max Reinhardt, Katharine Cornell, Ruth Gordon, and Garson Kanin. Beginning in the mid-1930s, Wilder was especially close to Gertrude Stein and became one of her most effective interpreters and champions. Many of Wilder's friendships are documented in his prolific correspondence. Wilder believed that great letters constitute a "great branch of literature." In a lecture entitled "On Reading the Great Letter Writers," he wrote that a letter can function as a "literary exercise," the "profile of a personality," and "news of the soul," apt descriptions of thousands of letters he wrote to his own friends and family.
Wilder enjoyed acting and played major roles in several of his own plays in summer theater productions. He also possessed a lifelong love of music; reading musical scores was a hobby, and he wrote the librettos for two operas based on his work: The Long Christmas Dinner, with composer Paul Hindemith, and The Alcestiad, with composer Louise Talma. Both works premiered in Germany.
Teaching was one of Wilder's deepest passions. He began his teaching career in 1921 as an instructor in French at Lawrenceville, a private secondary school in New Jersey. Financial independence after the publication of The Bridge of San Luis Rey permitted him to leave the classroom in 1928, but he returned to teaching in the 1930s at the University of Chicago. For six years, on a part-time basis, he taught courses there in classics in translation, comparative literature, and composition. In 1950–1951, he served as the Charles Eliot Norton Professor of Poetry at Harvard. Wilder's gifts for scholarship and teaching (he treated the classroom as all but a theater) made him a consummate, much-sought-after lecturer in his own country and abroad. After World War II, he held special standing, especially in Germany, as an interpreter of his own country's intellectual traditions and their influence on cultural expression.
During World War I, Wilder had served a four-month stint as an enlisted man in the Coast Artillery section of the army, stationed at Fort Adams, Rhode Island. He volunteered for service in World War II, advancing to the rank of lieutenant colonel in Army Air Force Intelligence. For his service in North Africa and Italy, he was awarded the Legion of Merit, the Bronze Star, the Chevalier Legion d'Honneur, and honorary officership in the Military Order of the British Empire (M.B.E.).
From royalties received from The Bridge of San Luis Rey, Wilder built a house for his family in 1930 in Hamden, Connecticut, just outside New Haven. But he typically spent as many as two hundred days a year away from Hamden, traveling to and settling in a variety of places that provided the stimulation and solitude he needed for his work. Sometimes his destination was the Arizona desert, the MacDowell Colony in New Hampshire, or Martha's Vineyard, Newport, Saratoga Springs, Vienna, or Baden-Baden. He wrote aboard ships, and often chose to stay in "spas in off-season." He needed a certain refuge when he was deeply immersed in writing a novel or play. Wilder explained his habit to a New Yorker journalist in 1959: "The walks, the quiet—all the elegance is present, everything is there but the people. That's it! A spa in off-season! I make a practice of it."
But Wilder always returned to "the house The Bridge built," as it is still known to this day. He died there of a heart attack on December 7, 1975.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Books by Thornton Wilder
NOVELS
The Cabala and the Woman of Andros
The Bridge of San Luis Rey
The Ides of March
The Eighth Day
Theophilus North
COLLECTIONS OF SHORT PLAYS
The Angel That Troubled the Waters
The Long Christmas Dinner & Other Plays in One Act
PLAYS
Our Town
The Merchant of Yonkers
The Skin of Our Teeth
The Matchmaker
The Alcestiad
ESSAYS
American Characteristics & Other Essays
The Journals of Thornton Wilder, 1939–1961
Copyright
A hardcover edition of this book was published in 1935 by Harper & Brothers, Publishers. It is reprinted here by arrangement with the Wilder Family LLC.
HEAVEN'S MY DESTINATION. Copyright © 1934 by the Wilder Family LLC. Foreword copyright © 2003 by J. D. McClatchy. Afterword copyright © 2003 by Tappan Wilder. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks.
First Perennial edition published 2003.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Wilder, Thornton.
Heaven's my destination / Thornton Wilder.—1st Perennial ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 0-06-008889-3
Epub Edition © FEBRUARY 2014 ISBN: 9780062232663
1. Traveling sales personnel—Fiction. 2. Textbooks—Publishing—Fiction. 3. Christian converts—Fiction. 4. Middle West—Fiction. 5. Depressions—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3545.I345H4 2003
813'.52—dc21
2003047116
03 04 05 06 07 WB/RRD 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
<http://www.harpercollins.ca>
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
<http://www.harpercollins.co.nz>
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
77-85 Fulham Palace Road
London, W6 8JB, UK
<http://www.harpercollins.co.uk>
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
10 East 53rd Street
New York, NY 10022
<http://www.harpercollins.com>
| , Dry Goods and Notions." One door had been boarded up. In the windows lay a disordered mass of such objects as dress patterns, slates, kites, and licorice whips. It occurred to Brush that he might buy some milk chocolate here, and seeing a row of dolls in the window, that he might take one of them as a peace-offering to the Grubers.
Mrs. Efrim was sitting by the window, knitting, when Brush entered the store. She was a wrinkled old woman with the head of an intelligent and dolorous monkey. Over a thick woolen dress she was wearing a frayed sweater, and over the sweater a short greenish-black cape trimmed with rusty braid. She pushed her spectacles farther down her nose and looked over them at Brush.
"I'd . . . I'd like a doll, please," said Brush.
Mrs. Efrim laid aside her knitting and, putting her hands on her knees, painfully rose to her feet. They inspected the dolls together.
"It's for a girl ten years old," said Brush. "I guess you may know her. Her name's Rhoda May Gruber."
Mrs. Efrim nodded. Brush told her about the placard.
"Ain't that terrible, now!" said Mrs. Efrim.
They looked at one another and became great friends. Both were pining for conversation. They agreed that that was no way to bring up children. Brush, a little mysteriously, alluded to the fact that the bringing up of little girls had recently become a problem in his life. Mrs. Efrim had six children and Brush was glad to hear about their good and bad traits. He suddenly remembered that he was hungry, and offered Mrs. Efrim an apple, adding that he had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, but that he felt fine. When he came to pay for the doll and the milk chocolate he laid a ten-dollar bill on the counter. Mrs. Efrim, making change, had a moment's hesitation before the cash register.
"I'll go and change it at the drug store," said Brush.
"No, no. I have it. You'll see. I have it fine, only it's hid."
"Hid?"
Mrs. Efrim looked at him and nodded mysteriously. "It don't do to have money in the till these days. No, sir. It don't hurt your knowing where it's kep'. Look!" Whereupon she put her hand behind a bolt of cloth and drew out a packet of one dollar bills and pushing aside some spools of ribbon came upon a store of fives. "That's the way we do it."
"I see."
The purchase was completed, but Brush lingered on, looking about the shop enviously.
"Young man," said Mrs. Efrim, who had again seated herself by the window, "do you know how to thread a needle?"
"I certainly do, Mrs. Efrim. I can sew pretty well, too."
"Well, my eyes aren't as good as they used to be. My children—every morning before they go off to school and to work—every morning they thread me up five or six needles, but sometimes they give out. Now, if you could thread me two or three needles . . ."
"I'd like to."
So it was that when the hold-up man entered Mrs. Efrim's store he came upon Brush standing by the window, threading needles.
"Stick up your hands," he roared. "Stick'm up, you two!"
"Ach Gott!" cried Mrs. Efrim.
"Stand where you are and keep your mouths shut. One peep out of you and you're dead. Do you speak English?—Eh? Spika Inglis?"
"Yes," replied Brush and Mrs. Efrim.
"All right, then. Now stay where you are."
This burglar was a nervous young man, new to the work and considerably hampered by the fact that the bandana handkerchief which he had tied about his nose was continually slipping and falling about his shoulders. He was given to crouching and glaring, and what he lacked in terrifying appearance he tried to make up for by shouting and by pointing his revolver squarely at the noses of his victims. He slowly crept over to the counter, keeping his eyes and his aim on Brush, opened the cash register and swept the silver change out of the drawer. Then he began uncertainly looking about for objects of value. Brush and Mrs. Efrim stood side by side with arms upraised. Brush's face shone with happy excitement. He glanced downward, trying to meet Mrs. Efrim's eyes in an exchange of intimate amusement.
"What are you laughing at, you big hyena," said the burglar. "Wipe that smile off your face or I'll plug you."
Brush assumed a grave expression, and the burglar continued his search. There was a long pause, filled only by the rumblings in Brush's famished stomach.
At last the burglar turned and said: "I didn't come in here for two dollars and a quarter, you two. There's some more money somewhere here and I'm going to get it." He addressed Brush: "Take off your coat and throw it on the floor,—here by me. One extra move from you and you get it in the belly. Do you hear?"
"Yes," said Brush.
The burglar rested the revolver on the counter, retied the bandana about his face, and carefully went through Brush's pockets. He found two apples, a purse containing two dollars, a nail file, copies of King Lear and other classics, some newspaper clippings about India and an application for a marriage license.
"Can I say something?" asked Brush.
"What the hell's the matter with you—can you say something? What is it?"
"There's hardly any money in that coat, but I know where you can find some. . . . I'll pay you back, Mrs. Efrim, when it's all over."
The burglar stared at Brush, pointing the revolver at his eyes. "Well, where is it?"
"I won't say anything if you point that gun at me like that," said Brush. "You ought to know better than that."
"What's the matter with you?"
"You don't really mean to kill us, but you might kill us by accident."
"I don't, eh?"
"No, of course not. Not kill. Never point a gun at a person. That's a rule everybody ought to know."
"Well, I do mean to shoot you, so keep your face shut. Now where's this money you were talking about?"
"I want to tell you about it, but I won't tell you until you point that gun at the window."
The burglar turned the barrel a fraction to the left and shouted, "All right now, spit it out."
"You'll find some money on the shelf behind the cash register," said Brush, calmly, "behind that roll of blue cloth."
"Gott—enu!" cried Mrs. Efrim. "How can you tell him that! You're crazy! Telling him that!"
The man was looking at the bolt of cloth suspiciously: "So you say! So you say! What's the trick, eh?"
Brush said in a low, urgent whisper to Mrs. Efrim: "I'll pay you back, Mrs. Efrim. He needs it a lot more than we do. I swear to you you won't lose a cent." Then he continued to the burglar, "And there's some more in five-dollar bills behind those spools of ribbon."
Mrs. Efrim wailed still more loudly than before. Brush entered into an earnest debate with her. The hold-up man, still distrustful of the hiding-places, tried to follow the argument.
"You see, Mrs. Efrim, this is very interesting to me, because I have a theory about thieves and robbers. I'll explain it to you afterwards. Really, I'll pay you it all back."
"I don't want your money. I want my own," said Mrs. Efrim.
The hold-up man finally outshouted them: "Say, shut up, you two. What's the idea? Who do you think I am, anyway? I'm not fooling. I'm serious. Now what's all this about money over here?"
Brush repeated the directions. The man extracted the money from its hiding-places.
"All right, now. Where's some more. Out with it."
"That's all I know about over there," said Brush, "but if you'll let me put my hand down I'll get you some I have here."
"Where?"
"In my . . . my watch pocket, here."
"Say, what is this?" cried the man, as though in pain. "You keep your hands up or I'll shoot you."
"Well, I'd like to give you twenty dollars I have here."
"Keep your hands up! Say, are you yellow or cuckoo, or what? Keep your hands up. Where's this money?"
Brush motioned with his chin toward the pocket.
There was silence for a moment while they stared at one another.
Brush said, quietly: "You want money, don't you? That's what you came for. Well, I want to give you some. You need it a lot more than I do. Only you won't let me put my hand down to get it."
At that moment a gust of wind flung open the warped door of Mrs. Efrim's shop and then slammed it shut with a tremendous detonation. The current of air rushed through the room, tossing the window curtains toward the ceiling and flinging a shower of the exposed objects over the floor. The burglar was so alarmed that the gun went off in his hand and the bullet shattered the window pane. Mrs. Efrim, wailed louder than ever. The burglar let fall the revolver, jumped across the counter, and sank on one knee, still crying: "What is this, anyway? What's going on here?"
Brush picked up the gun and planted himself in the middle of the room. With furrowed brow, he pointed the barrel towards a corner of the ceiling.
"Now you hold up your hands," he said. "I don't believe in weapons of any kind, but I want you to stay there while I say something."
The hold-up man, swearing softly, stooped so that only his eyes appeared above the counter. Mrs. Efrim began pulling at Brush's sleeve, "Now, you make him give back that money before you do another thing."
"No, Mrs. Efrim, no! Don't you understand? This is a kind of experiment. We're going to give this man a new start in life, don't you see? I'll pay you back every cent that he's taken."
"I don't want your money. I want my own money. That's all I want. And I'm going to phone Mr. Warren this minute."
"No, Mrs. Efrim."
"Yes, I will."
"Mrs. Efrim," said Brush severely, "you move over there and put up your hands."
"Ach, g'rechter Gott!"
"Put up your hands, Mrs. Efrim. I'm sorry, but I know what I'm doing. Burglar," continued Brush, quietly, "what's your name?"
There was no answer.
"Do you know a trade of any kind?"
More silence.
"Have you been holding up people long?"
"Oh, shoot me and get this over with," muttered the burglar, contemptuously, but remained in hiding behind the counter. Brush was not abashed. He continued:
"I'm going to see that you leave this store with about fifty dollars in all. That'll give you room and board for a while. You go somewhere where you can think things over. Now listen. Even I can see that you'll never be a very good hold-up man."
Brush was entering into a discourse on the rewards of honesty when an unfortunate interruption occurred. A customer opened the door of the shop, an old woman who promptly put her hand over her mouth and screamed through it:
"Why, Mrs. Efrim, what's the trouble?"
"I don't know, Mrs. Robinson," replied Mrs. Efrim, sullenly. "I don't know at all."
Brush turned his head a fraction and said, curtly: "You can't come in now because we're busy here. Come back in half an hour."
"Mrs. Efrim," gasped Mrs. Robinson, "I'll call Mr. Warren," and disappeared.
"That woman's coming in here has spoiled everything," said Brush, lowering his gun with an impatient sigh. "I guess we'll have to hurry.—Mrs. Efrim, there's a way he can escape through the back of the house, isn't there?"
"Don't ask me no questions," replied Mrs. Efrim. "I'm not going to tell you a thing."
Brush walked up to the counter and laid some bills on it. "Here's your money," he said to the burglar. "The price of the gun's in it, too. Now you can go. You'd better go out through there."
The man snatched up the money and, sidling about the room, filled up his cheeks with air, made an explosive sound, and dashed out of the door.
Brush put down the gun carefully. "That was awfully interesting, wasn't it?" he said, with a constrained laugh. "Now I want to pay you what I owe you."
Mrs. Efrim did not answer. She crossed the room and closed the till with a bang.
"Mrs. Efrim, don't be mad at me. I had to act that way to live up to my ideals."
"You're crazy."
"No, I'm not."
"You are. You're crazy. Whoever heard of anybody going out of their way to give money to a burglar. Yes, and letting him go free, too. No, I won't take your money. Look at all that's been took from you already. Now go away before the police come and arrest you."
"I'm not afraid of the police."
"Now you mind what I say—go away."
"Mrs. Efrim, if I'd done anything wrong I'd apologize. I owe you about thirty-five dollars . . ."
Mr. Warren, the town constable, appeared at the door followed by some men and by Mrs. Robinson.
"Now come out quiet," commanded Mr. Warren. "Hold up your hands and come quiet."
Brush said to Mrs. Efrim, smiling: "He thinks I did it! . . . Here I am, Officer." Mr. Warren handcuffed him. "Oh—oh, Mr. Warren," said Brush. "I hope I can eat with those things on, because I haven't eaten anything but an apple for twenty-four hours and I'm very hungry."
"Lock up your store and come with us, Mrs. Efrim," said Mr. Warren. "We'll want your story of what's been going on."
"There's nothing to tell," said Mrs. Efrim, shrilly. "It was just foolishness. No, I'm not going to leave this store. No, I'm not."
The officer insisted, however, and presently the procession was making its way down Main Street. As luck would have it Mr. and Mrs. Gruber were standing under the arcade.
"Look! Herman, look!" cried Mrs. Gruber, catching her husband's arm. "That's the man!—The kidnapper!"
"Charley Warren," said Mr. Gruber, "I charge that man with attempting to kidnap my daughter Rhoda May."
"Follow in behind, Herman," said Warren.
When they reached the jail, Brush was shown into a cell. He ate another apple, sighed heavily and went to sleep.
Chapter 10
Ozarksville, Missouri. George Brush meets a great man and learns something of importance about himself. The trial.
After breakfast the next morning the jailer opened the door of Brush's cell and said:
"You can go out into the yard if you want to. Judge Carberry can't see you till this afternoon. He's out fishing."
It was mild and sunny in the open air. The yard was surrounded on three sides by the jail and on the fourth by a high wire fence on the other side of which was the jailer's house and back yard. Beside the gravel path in the jail yard stood a number of rough benches. On one of these a man lay stretched on his back, wrapped in his overcoat, sunning himself. He turned his head and examined Brush. He had a thin, sardonic face and long silky mustaches.
"Well, well," he said, "another?" and sat up.
Brush went up to him and shook his hand. "My name is George M. Brush. I come from Michigan and I sell textbooks for Caulkins and Company."
"Any birth marks?"
"What?"
The man lay down again. "My name is Zoroaster Eels. I lie on benches for a living."
Brush looked at him in surprise, but Eels turned his back on him, so Brush continued his inspection of the yard. On the other side of the fence an enormous buff-colored cat was picking its way fastidiously among the weeds. Brush made a number of ingratiating sounds, but the cat ignored him and began washing its forepaws. A woman who was hanging clothes on the line called, "Here, Bitty! Here, Bitty!" stared at Brush with revulsion, and went into the house. Brush's thought turned to physical exercise. He strode energetically about the yard and did some hygienic bending. His fellow-prisoner turned and opened one eye. He yawned and sat up: "Relax, oh, relax," he said.
Brush went over to him. "Yes, I believe in relaxation, too," he said, "but the best relaxation comes after some kind of exertion."
Brush sat down. There was a silence; then he said, "They're real good to you in this jail."
"Wonderful," said Eels, and spat. "Wonderful."
Brush realized he had made an unconsidered remark. He blushed slightly and added: "The ham and eggs, I mean, and the use of the garden."
"They aim to please," said the other.
"They don't take your fingerprints here, though."
"I guess they would for you, if you asked them to. They can see you have the right spirit. You appreciate'm. You're the kind of prisoner they like to have." Whereupon Eels lay down and shut his eyes. "They'll be sorry when you go."
"Oh, I see," said Brush, laughing. "Everything you say is a joke. I couldn't understand you at first."
The other opened his eyes and regarded Brush narrowly, then closed them again. Brush, cut off from conversation, wandered forlornly about the yard, picking up rubbish and making a neat pile of it in one corner. Presently the other rose from the bench and with an altered manner came toward him.
"Why should we quarrel?" he said. "My name is Burkin, George Burkin. Shake hands, Brush, shake hands. I'm from New York City. I'm at present unemployed, but my profession is that of a motion-picture director. Come and sit down and let's discuss our shame. I've been stuck in here for a peeping Tom. What are you here for?"
"I'm here for two reasons. First they think I was trying to kidnap a little girl, and then they think I was trying to hold up a store, or at least help a hold-up man to escape."
"I see. It was all a misunderstanding, though?"
"Yes. Except the second one, but even then I knew what I was doing all the time. Would you like to hear about it?"
"Just a minute. Have you got a cigarette?"
"No, I don't smoke."
"You don't smoke?"
"No."
"Well, let's hear about it."
So Brush told him the whole story from the vow of silence to his arrival at the jail. He then added the account of his arrest at Armina, his theory of voluntary poverty, and his theory of robbers. After he had finished there was a long pause. Finally Burkin arose and, putting his thumbs in his belt, gazed, squinting meditatively, into the sun.
"Well," he said, "I've been hunting for someone like you for a long time. To think I had to go to jail to find you."
"For someone like me?"
"Yes. Do you know what you are? You're the perfectly logical man."
Brush, for delight, could scarcely believe his ears. "I? I'm logical?"
"The most logical man I ever met."
"Well . . . naturally I always claimed I was logical . . . but almost everybody I meet says I'm crazy." Then he added, hesitantly, "Is it a good thing to be logical?"
Burkin strolled away a few steps without answering. When he came back he said, "Well, at least, it's no fun."
"Oh yes, it is," said Brush, hastily. "I'm the happiest man I ever met."
"Have it your own way," said Burkin.
Brush hesitated again. "Will you tell me how . . . how the misunderstanding came up that made them put you in here?"
"Sure, I will," said Burkin. He stood with one foot on the bench in a pose of nonchalance, but his words emerged with increasing violence and a nervous twitch of the left side of his face which Brush had noticed earlier became more and more pronounced. "I was standing on the lawn of a house looking in the window. The people in the next house phoned for the police and I was stuck in here. That's all." There was a pause, then he broke out: "I never explain anything. I never regret anything. I don't care a goddam what they think. If they think I've been prowling around their streets, trying to catch their hags undressing, let'm think so. Let them keep me in jail here as long as they like. I don't care. I never explain. I never try to put idiots out of their misery. See? I am what I am."
Brush held his breath. Burkin leaned over him and shouted into his face: "Listen, now listen. The day'll come when they'll be glad for me to so much as mention their goddam town. I'm a movie-director. See? I'm the best that ever was or will be. I'm the greatest artist America ever had in any line. See? I'm a movie-director. It's my business to know everything. I knock about the whole country in a Ford, just looking. That's all. One night I'm in Ozarksville, Missouri. What of it? I'm walking down the street and I see a lighted window. What of it? A man and his wife and kid are eating supper. Now when you're looking through a window at people who don't know they're being looked at, you see a lot more than you see any other way. Can you understand that?"
"Yes," said Brush, in a low voice.
"It's terrible how much you see. You see their very souls. Can you understand that?"
"Yes."
"I stayed there for hours until the police took me away. That's all. Do you like it?"
Brush said quietly: "All you have to do is to tell them—like that. They'd believe you."
Burkin shouted, "I tell you I never explain."
"I'm going to tell the judge myself," said Brush. Then slowly raising his eyes with a smile, he added, "It's a pleasure to believe you."
"Who the hell are you, anyway?" said Burkin, and walked away as though in anger. When he came back he said: "Besides, don't you know that the judge in this place is a tight old bird? He's had the town in his pocket for forty years. He doesn't even go through the forms of the law, let alone listen to anything that's said to him. You haven't got any more chance than I have. What are you looking so damned pleased about?"
"I don't know," said Brush, in a low voice. "I guess it's because I like to have things happen to me."
"You're crazy," said Burkin.
"I know," he said, smiling, "but you said I was logical."
"Have you got anything to read in your baggage?"
"Yes, I have several things in the cell there. This is all I have on me," and Brush produced a New Testament, his paper copy of King Lear and a pamphlet on colonic irrigation.
Burkin took the Lear and gave the other two back. "You mustn't separate those two," he said.
Brush stood with lowered eyes, thinking this over. "I don't like you to say things like that," he said.
"It's a big free country," replied Burkin, airily, and lying down again read King Lear from beginning to end.
George Brush had already become a legend of terror in the town, and by two o'clock the courtroom was filled with spectators sitting in a church-going silence. When Brush entered and took his place the silence became even more profound; the room held its breath. Brush's lips were pressed tightly together and he was paler than usual, but he looked about him with an unabashed glance. Judge Carberry had been for thirty-five years the best-known citizen in town, but when he entered all eyes rested upon him as though for the first time. He looked about him wearily, blew his nose, and sat down. He was a bald old man with small black eyes and a pointed nose set in a myriad of wrinkles that read kindliness, disillusion, and boredom. He was vexed by the unaccustomed throng and today pushed even farther than usual his habitual contempt for the procedure of the law. He grunted a few instructions to the clerk, who began to expedite matters furiously. While the charges were being read he artfully adjusted the screen of books—a vast bulwark of Blackstone—behind which it was his custom to read during sessions. He was hurrying through George Eliot and looked forward to a review of Waverly in the spring.
". . . attempted kidnapping," mumbled the clerk ". . . aiding and abetting larceny . . . pleads not guilty . . . undertakes his own defense . . ."
Mr. Warren was called. "Wa-all, I got this here phone call from Mrs. Robinson that there was this hold-up goin' on over to Mrs. Efrim's store; so I . . ."
The judge stole a paragraph or two of Adam Bede, then raised his head. "Both these charges against the same person?" he asked, dryly.
"Yes, Your Honor."
"Same day?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
The judge let his eyes fall on Brush in a cool, contemptuous glance. Brush returned his gaze without flinching. There was a silence. Brush raised his hand. "May I speak, Your Honor?" he asked.
For a moment it seemed as though the judge had not heard him. "What do you wish to say?"
"Your Honor, I think you ought to know there is no case here at all."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, it's all a misunderstanding. And if you'll let me tell my account of it right now we can all be out of the court building in fifteen minutes. Also, Your Honor, I can explain the case of Mr. Burkin, who you're going to see after me, and that's just a misunderstanding, too."
"Have you ever been brought before a court before?"
"No, Your Honor." Then he added, with some difficulty. "But I've been arrested before."
"Oh, you have?"
"Yes, but they were misunderstandings, too. I was let go in an hour."
"Would you feel able to tell the court what you were arrested for, and where?"
"I'd be glad to, Your Honor."
"We should be glad to hear it."
"The first time was in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I was arrested for riding in a Jim Crow car. I believe in the equality of races, Your Honor, in the brotherhood of man, and I rode in the Jim Crow car to show that I believed it. They arrested me. The second time—"
Judge Carberry stopped him with a gesture of the hand. The judge looked slowly and a little dazedly over the spell-bound audience, then turned toward the court stenographer as though to make sure that this testimony was being recorded. He then looked at the tops of the windows as though he were debating as to whether he should issue orders for new sashes. Finally his gaze returned to Brush. He blew his nose and said, politely, "Kindly continue."
"The second time was about a month ago in Armina, Oklahoma. I was drawing out my savings from a savings-bank and I told the president of the bank that in my opinion savings-banks are practically immoral. They arrested me for that."
"Had you any reason to think that the bank was unsound?"
"I didn't mean that, Your Honor. I meant that all banks like that are due to fear and breed fear in the people. It's a theory of mine and it takes quite a while to explain."
"I see," said the judge. "Your ideas aren't the same as most people's, are they?"
"No," said Brush. "I didn't put myself through college for four years and go through a difficult religious conversion in order to have the same ideas as other people have."
Again the judge allowed his astonished gaze to wander about the room. He saw Mrs. Efrim, sitting in the midst of her six children, all dressed in their best clothes and staring up at him with awe-struck eyes. He saw the Grubers and Rhoda May scrubbed to startling pinkness and wearing a starched white party dress. "You may be seated," he said to Brush, then mumbling a few words to the clerk, he left the room. He went to the telephone and called up his wife. He talked slowly with many pauses and with an affected indifference.
"Oh, Emma," he said, looking down his nose and scratching his cheek. ". . . euh . . . euh . . . better get your sewing and come down to the courthouse."
"What do you mean, Darwin?"
"Well . . . well . . . you might be interested in something that's going on here."
"Now, Darwin, if it's something improper, you know I don't like such things."
The judge slowly passed his tongue over his front teeth. "No . . . oh, no . . . perfectly proper."
"Well, what is it, Darwin?"
". . . there's a type here . . . little out of the ordinary. Better come down. Bring your sewing."
"Now, Darwin, I won't have you tormenting some poor prisoner. I know you. I know you and I won't have it."
The judge's shoulders shook. "Prisoner's tormenting me, Emma . . . seems like. We're putting on a little show today. Call up Fred and see if he's free. You can bring Lucile, too."
Fred Hart had been mayor of Ozarksville for twenty years. Lucile was his wife. The Harts and the Carberrys had played bridge together three nights a week for a longer time than that.
"Well, if I come down I want you to behave, Darwin. I've told you a thousand times I don't like you when you're sarcastic."
The judge returned to the bench. He gave the prisoner an awe-inspiring glance. He saw to it that the court marked time until the arrival of his wife. Mr. Gr | 6,687 |
In the heart of the city, in an ancient canal warehouse, you can find the most characteristic cinema of all: De Uitkijk. It is completely managed by students – from PR to the bar, the film projections and everything else. I almost regret not being a student anymore, as this might just be the best student job to have!
<|fim_middle|> cinema royalty go up a floor to sit on the gorgeous balcony! | My favourite time to visit this cinema is on Friday nights. At 23:00 the candles are lit and the lights are dimmed for a screening of a fantastic cult movie or modern classic. Just sit back, relax, and let the red curtains and '20s-style decor take you back in time. After the movie, when you have re-established what year it is and where you are, you can jump right into the Amsterdam nightlife as you are in close proximity to all the bars and clubs.
Small tip: You can choose your own seats in this cinema: If you want to feel like | 123 |
Albums Of The Week: King Gizzard And The Lizard Wizard | Live At Red Rocks '22
Albums Of The Week: Bob Dylan | Fragments: Time Out of Mind Sessions (1996-1997) – The Bootleg Series, Vol. 17
Home Hear Indie Roundup | Five Videos to Watch on A Wednesday
Indie Roundup | Five Videos to Watch on A Wednesday
Micah Erenberg, Trapdoor, Coilguns and more make music for your midweek.
Micah Erenberg does it for love, Trapdoor make a move, Coilguns fire and more in today's Roundup. Welcome to the merry merry month of May!
1 There are countless reasons why we do the things we do. But in the main, they boil down to<|fim_middle|>2019
Albums Of The Week: Tidal Wave | The Lord Knows
Classic Album Review: Keith Fullerton Whitman | Playthroughs | two motivators: Money or love. Manitoba singer-songwriter Micah Erenberg is one of those guys who Do It For Love, as documented via the lush, sweetly swirling Flaming Lips pop of his new single — not to mention the endearing home-movie video that illustrates it. SAYS THE PRESS RELEASE: "Do It For Love is a song about the unlikely friendships that follow you throughout your whole life. "I had a friend when I was a kid who didn't want to grow up," says Erenberg. "And as we did he went through a lot of hard times. It wasn't easy for him, but no matter what he always had a positive outlook on life. He was always able to turn a bad vibe into a good one; a great gift for such a young person. That's kinda what the first verse is about. To this day he's still an inspiration to my own growth." Do it to it:
2 L.A. indie-popsters and environmental activists Trapdoor Social cruise the streets of their city — on a bicycle, of course — in the video to their funky-fresh single The Move. SAYS THE PRESS RELEASE: "The infectious track is inspired by the idea of a growing movement of people who want to leave the world better than they found it. With funk-fuelled guitars, impassioned vocals and a contagious chorus the single is sure to be stuck in your head all day long! The visuals feature protests for environmental regulation change." Get in gear:
3 Coilguns have another round in the chamber. Less than a month after releasing their last single, the Swiss hardcore/noise/metal/punk rebels are back with the video for the angular and aggressive cut Blackboxing, taken from their recent album Millenials. Brace yourself. It packs a punch. SAYS THE PRESS RELEASE: "Coilguns is one of the proud flag holders of the 2.0 DIY scene since their inception in 2011 when they accidentally formed with the purpose of playing fast and simple music." Accidentally?
4 What would make you happy again? The song celebrating the arrival of spring? A cute stop-motion video about cooking? A jangling surf-pop ditty with a catchy chorus? Well, you can get them all in Happy Again, the latest offering from Chicago trio Dehd and their May 10 album Water. Now turn that frown upside-down. SAYS THE PRESS RELEASE: "There's a phenomenon that happens during the winters here in Chicago. As the season goes on you start to lose interest in things , it's harder to get out of bed, your whole world outlook turns grey. Then on the first sunny day you're happy again and you can see the cause of your depression so clearly. Even though it happens every year you forget until that first ray of sun. This song is about catching that first glimpse of hope." Get cooking":
5 Soundgarden and Audioslave singer Chris Cornell's tragic 2017 death impacted countless musicians — including Sullivan singer-guitarist Brooks Paschal, who used the story to fuel his anthemic emo single Tell the World, from his May 31 Natural Disaster album. He already gave us the lyric video; now here's the self-directed live-action version. SAYS THE PRESS RELEASE: "I didn't know Chris personally, and I hadn't achieved what he had, but I felt like I could empathize with why he did what he did. The amount of pressure we put on ourselves is often times untenable, especially in this business. The highs are beyond our wildest dreams and the lows leave a void that is literally irreplaceable. I have never been suicidal, but I have felt the weight of what it means to try your fucking hardest while the world expects more." That's telling it like it is:
Brooks Paschal
Dehd
Micah Erenberg
Trapdoor
Previous articlePlaying Catch-Up | Six Recent Albums You Should Hear
Next articleLate-Night TV Music (Full House Edition) | May 1, | 830 |
Q: Why didn't R2D2 recognize Obi-Wan in a New Hope? This is the flipside of another question.
When Obi-Wan comes across the unconscious Luke, R2D2 seems afraid.
Fast-forward to 2:15 in this video clip.
R2D2: Beeps when it sees Obi-Wan touching Luke's forehead.
Obi-Wan: Hello there.
R2D2: Beeps in curiosity.
Obi-Wan: Come here my little friend. Don't be afraid.
R2D2: Beeps more confidently.
Unless R2D2 was mind-wiped, it should remember Obi-Wan from 19 years ago. It should recognize his voice and face. It even seemed to know which direction in the desert to go to find Obi-Wan.
Why would it be afraid to come out and greet Obi-Wan immediately?
A: Obi wan would've recognised him straight away, but I've also read the theory that the way he phrases his responses to R2 kinda tell the droid, 'dont recognise me'. As if Luke realised they knew<|fim_middle|>i-Wan. It's fairly plausible that he wouldn't have recognized him immediately. Droids do have superior computing capabilities, but they aren't better at everything than humans. It seems plausible that an astromech droid would not necessarily have flawless (or even very good) facial recognition routines. Perhaps it really did take him a few seconds to recognize Obi-Wan, given how much the latter had aged over the course of two decades.
Something similar might have explained Obi-Wan possibly not recognizing R2-D2 at first.
It's also possible that we (and perhaps Obi-Wan) are misinterpreting R2-D2's emotions, and what might seem to be a Binary squeak of fear might actually be an exclamation of disbelieving excitement ("I can't believe it's really you again!").
Regardless, they certainly did recognize each other eventually (despite Obi-Wan being cagey about it):
The R2 unit moved to Ben's side as if it were his faithful pet—an
image that was further reinforced by the old man's stroking a hand
over its domed head.
"It's good to fly with you again, my old friend," the old man said, so
softly Han wasn't sure he had heard him right. But it wasn't Han's
business either way. He knelt down to pile his tools into their box
and went back to his work.
The Princess, the Scoundrel, and the Farm Boy
A: It seems to me that R2 recognizes Kenobi but Kenobi speaks in such a cagey way to alert R2 not to reveal anything to the still naïve Luke. Most of what Ben tells Luke in ANH is half-truth and outright lies to keep Luke in the dark until the time is right.
| each other, there'd be all kinds of questions, which would take time they didn't have.
Basically, Ben couldn't be bothered wasting time explaining things. And as he and R2 had such a good rapport, R2 knew what he meant straight away.
A: Well, initially, Obi-Wan was covered by a hooded cloak, so R2-D2 wouldn't recognize him (thus making it quite reasonable to be afraid).
We might assume that as soon as Obi-Wan's face was visible, R2-D2 would have recognized him. Consider, though, that it has been 19 years since R2-D2 last saw Ob | 137 |
For $1,000 or so, Fred K. Bailey has been known to take over people's homes and prepare knock-their-socks-off gourmet feasts.
That probably doesn't sound like much of a bargain until you figure that the cost is mostly tax-deductible and a very authoritative saying of grace is thrown in free of charge.
Father Bailey, 35, is a priest--associate pastor of San Antonio Catholic Church in Anaheim Hills--and his chef's duties are auctioned off to raise funds for worthy causes.
A recent $1,000 winning bid bought a nine-course meal for a party of six that took 6 hours to consume. The menu included steamed mussels, various pates, cheeses, fresh shrimp,<|fim_middle|> and stir with spoon or rubber spatula to make sure cake is thoroughly covered with chocolate without crumbling the chunks. Pour entire mixture into a spring-form pan and refrigerate at least 4 hours (overnight is better). Just before serving, whip remaining cream with remaining sugar. Remove cake from pan and coat with whipped cream. Garnish with grated chocolate or fresh strawberries. | shrimp bisque, woven halibut and salmon poached in white wine and herbs, fresh fruits, mini filets of beef, blackened chicken, homemade bread and desserts--all washed down with champagne and a variety of wines.
Bailey says his parishioners have a lot more faith in his culinary skills than he does. "I always start the meals with great trepidation," he says, "and am more surprised, relieved and grateful than anyone when they turn out well.
"After all, I have no formal training; it's just something I've picked up over the years and enjoy."
An Anaheim native (his parents, Mary and George Bailey, still live there), Bailey is a graduate of Cal State Fullerton. It was while attending St. John's Seminary in Camarillo that he started cooking. "I began with cookies and brownies--things like that--and just kept moving up, from crock-pot dishes to formal meals."
The recipe he shared with Guys & Galleys is one of his favorites, a chocolate mousse cake that has (naturally) an angel food cake base. The name, "Spirited Mousse Cake," incidentally, has nothing to do with religion--but rather the half-cup of brandy that's a key ingredient.
Using hands, chunk the cakes into lemon-size pieces and place in large mixing bowl. Sprinkle with brandy and set aside. In separate bowl, whip half the cream with an electric mixer until stiff. Mix in half the sugar and continue mixing until absorbed. Refrigerate. Separate whites from yolks of eggs and whip them until stiff peaks form. Sprinkle in cream of tartar while mixing. Now gently fold the meringue into the whipped cream and chill mixture. Melt chocolate in double boiler, add coffee and stir until smooth and glossy. Allow to cool (it doesn't have to be cold; warm is OK). With whisk, blend together chocolate with whipping cream-meringue mixture (scrape sides of bowl often to make sure it blends well). Add angel food-brandy mixture to chocolate mixture | 429 |
The MPEG-2 AAC standard is<|fim_middle|>4 kb/s/channel for multichannel operation. It provides a capability of up to 48 main audio channels, 16 low frequency effects channels, 16 overdub/multilingual channels, and 16 data streams. Up to 16 programs can be described, each consisting of any number of the audio and data elements. There are three profiles for the AAC standard, called Main Profile, Low Complexity Profile, and Scalable Sampling Rate Profile. The Main profile is intended for use when processing, and especially memory, are not at a premium. The Low Complexity profile is intended for use when cycles and memory use are constrained, and the SSR profile when a scalable decoder is required. The Main and LC profiles have been tested at 320 kb/s for 5-channel audio programmes, and both have demonstrated better quality than competing audio coding algorithms running at 640 kb/s for the 5-channel program. | a new, state of the art audio standard that provides very high audio quality at a rate of 6 | 21 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.