text:
Not Waving but Drowning
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
-Stevie Smith
I close my eyes and try and remember the day I committed suicide. What was once fresh and easily distinguishable has blurred to another random sentence in the book that is my life. How can one person be both the victim and victimizer? How tight are the bonds that hold humanity together? For my simple act made me the aggressor towards others who deemed my life forfeit for their own comfort.
Though there are as my types and reasons for suicide as there are the multitudes on the earth. This but the silent majority, the ones that shock us when their story ends in ash, have a narrative that is as tragic in its ending as it is in its typicality.
Many years ago, before consciousness, something must have happened, something must have been done, or said. Maybe it was you, maybe your parents, or maybe even the world. But with such lessons, at such age, there is no recovery. Failed lessons become reinforced; and way leads onto way. Without realization you are forever marked. You are so young when you realize that something is wrong; that something is not functioning right within your body. You move forward unable to share this feeling with others because you can barely describe it yourself. By the time you are able to recognize that the buzzing noise that relentlessly drowns out every other feeling is pain, pain that threatens to drown you, it is too late. You immediately look up and out to all of those who pass by daily. For so long you just assumed it was natural, that it was normal to feel this way. Its when you choose to look for it in others that you become scared. All of the other children look back absent of the pain you wish you could share; and you just can't understand why they do not feel the way you do. Their happiness seems to span the constant tic-tic-tic of the clock, and yours is only for the moment, lost as soon as it is found. How is this possible, what could possibly be wrong with you.
Deep unsettling despair descends upon you, and now instead of being suffocated you are drowning. Looking around you see no one else struggling and you go out of your way to hide it. And every night you pray to your gods and family that it will end tomorrow, that tomorrow will be the day that you wake up and your body works correctly; to be like everyone else. It is these early years that you dream of being normal, that you dream of being like those who seem to have it so easy. This is before the scarring, this is while you are still teaching yourself how to be strong in the face of all that is clearly wrong. Each night you convince yourself that it will be better. You can only lie to yourself for so long and then it changes, you convince yourself each night that you are strong enough to endure. Yes, right here is where the world fails to take notice. It is this moment, this change, that the outside worlds of influence, leadership, love and concern cease to be the defining factors in you life. Self motivation prevails, and with this self induced strength comes a pride. Though the pain only deepens, and the waters pull you under with more strength, you now accept it as a part of who you are, for as much as you want it to be different you demand the pain as a part of your very identity.
Somewhere in this struggle you will attempt to match the outside world with the one on the inside. Most will hurt themselves in a futile attempt to make what is felt rational. If I am hurt, then I should feel pain; but, the pain will stay and the hurt will go away. This mantra will be repeated again and again with similar ends. They will cut at themselves for the momentary relief, and the scars left will only serve to remind them of how much it still hurts. Others will commit to their most base objectives in an effort to relieve this pain even for a moment. Sexually, artistically, athletically, all will find something that will take the pain away for just a breath, and they will fight harder and harder to have it taken away time and time again. This internal motivation allows them to achieve so much, yet they can enjoy almost none of it. They are lost among the success and failures with no concept of how to determine right from wrong as their souls feel only torment. Every night, going to bed, fighting against the urge to make the pain go away. For now they know that it will never leave them. If they are lucky, the pain is shed, gone, like a frustrating cold that just up and disappears one day. But, for the rest, it never leaves. They deaden themselves towards the rest of the world and step boldly forward, knowing only defeat in the arms of victories.
These mortals are little swayed by encouragement or retort at this point in their lives. They have survived so much more than any of us could imagine, and are not afraid to balance that against your tiny words, your lifeless hugs. Neither then should you make the mistake as to believe that you can encourage them to this end. No amount of conversation, or lack thereof, will push or pull these individuals to their desired ends. You can only at this point set the stage for the final execution of a lifelong dream. These men and women who have done great things end up leaving this earth in a heart shattering event that leaves them condemned by their religions, stripped of their accomplishments by their peers, and a forever sense of shamed by their own blood. In what world do you think you have the ability to change what they know to be true when they decide that they have had enough. In what world do you think your condemnation, or threats of striping away their institutional awards, will change their choice that night as they sit alone.
At what point does their suffering outweigh our perceived obligations that they owe to the living? A selfish act you call it, I ask you why? Is it in consideration for others? What amount of pain must I endure before I can let loose those bonds of humanity. Why must they owe us such?
Know that not all men are created equally, nor are all daemons faced the same. The stories of childhood were never written to let us know that dragons lived, but rather to give us the hope that we can slay these beasts of our minds. As we award medals to those whom have served faithfully, and then demand their return when they take their life, are we not the damned. I ask no man to live his life for the sake of mine, I will not live my life for the sake of another; and therefore will not condemn a man that knows his own damnation. He wears those scars openly for us to bear witness to and leaves a shattering quake behind him as he lays open a truth that we are still afraid of what we do not understand. I do not condone the choice of suicide, but I will stand tall and honor the man that lived his life to the end of his choosing.
Rest in peace; Captain Fallensbee and all those like him who have met his fate. To name a few others that were living success for us while paying a price we could not understand and they could not bear; Ludwig Bolzmann, Admiral Jeremy Boorda, CSM Lewis, Sam Gillespie, Ernest Hemingway, Megan Meier, Sylvia Plath, Roy Raymond, Hunter S.Thompson… and the untold masses that have impacted our lives at the sake of their own.
A chance coincidence, a delayed flight, a brief encounter…
I was sitting in a small cantina across from Gate A23 in a random Airport, in a random City, as I crossed the country one more time. I sat at a table of four, not paying attention to my boss and his staff while they discussed the mundane and over appreciated. My mind had wondered to the musings of the world and the delay in the flight. As my gaze lowered from the ceiling my eyes passed over a woman, slightly leaning against the wall, looking up at the same board that I had been. Calm and powerful, a greek statue or a Jacques-luis David –perfect and ephemeral beauty– with eyes that displayed little emotion; yet, the statuesque pose was enough to trap my fascination.
Ironic that she is a quarter mexican as I sat in a faux mexican restaurant. Ironic that she was alone and I was pretending to be alone. I wanted to know more, I had to see her, I had to have her in a way that comes and goes so fast across the mind of those that are romantics. I left to walk it off, to move on, to find my fascinations elsewhere. When I returned, she was still there, oblivious to me, or so it would seem. The flights were delayed again, and then canceled, and as if by divine appreciation for my needs she lined up behind my party of four for the airline help desk. As all adolescents do, I acted out until she noticed. Working hard for her to smile, to shed her indifference. Slowly but surely my antics were noticed and she smiled, oh if that had only been enough. If nothing more had happened, I would have been secure in the small victory of bringing warmth and a smile to a beautiful, fascinating, stranger. We left for the baggage claim, knowing that it was over, without regrets, without remorse, I could smile.
She stood there, as if she was waiting for me, at the baggage claim. I couldn't resist, I had to say hi, I had to know if she was staying at the same hotel as us. The words came out so quick, I volunteered our ride to wait for her and her bags. My mind was racing, I was trying to be 'cool,' to be calm, to be in control. The ten minutes in the van, the awkward looks at the check-in counter and the twenty minutes in my room should have put things back into perspective. When I walked past her to dinner, she turned and looked at me from the hotel bar. So we talked, we worked around some assurance policy that we would be able to meet up. I could see it in her eyes, only then as I wrote down my number, the whole night played out before me as we looked at each other. I knew that she would wait for me in the hotel bar. I suffered through a working dinner, waiting for the text ensuring me that she was till there. Leaving behind my responsibilities and any sense of accountability I said good night to my coworkers and went to her. She had been patient, nursing a drink, waiting for me, texting me.
I sat next to you, and steadied my hand that wanted to reach out and touch you. We forced ourselves to settle into the rights and passage of the conventional. A protocol of small talk and drinks when we both knew that we were passing time. Waiting for it to be more appropriate than what it was, or what it would ever be. We fended off would be interlopers, I would wait them out. Or at least in one case, piss them off so much that they would leave. I wanted you to need me, so I talked. We worked slowly through the night, forcing ourselves not to make it obvious, to be social with everyone while all I wanted was you. As the hours went by I could see you looking up at me, ever so slightly changing the dynamic, your face marked with hints of desire. And it was then that I watched the vultures of our minds circle, because without you, right then, the world would have lost meaning. In efforts to hide our true intent we walked, room to room, from singular moments to singular moments of passion; desperately trying to ignore their addition. Finally we stopped moving. We stopped thinking, we stopped being individuals, we were young again, insecure, curious, clumsy, and entwined.
The hours would pass and the sun would be working its way to the horizon when we parted company, one final embrace one final look. The world was different somehow, not dramatically so, only slightly, in only a way that this woman and I would know. With uncertainty we looked at each other from across the room in the same airport from the day before. Casual glances, afraid that any interaction would give it all away, that the whole world that we damned would know. Fear, fear of a future that we would deny, knowing that the seed could not grow, yet somehow, I have found myself writing these words. Smiling, content, happy with the night; a night I would do again, I would work for and hold in appreciation of the subtleties of a romantic tryst found on a cold desert night.
I have no doubt at all the Devil grins,
As seas of ink I spatter.
Ye gods, forgive my 'literary' sins –
The other kind don't matter.
I watched in pure enjoyment as my thumbnail slid behind her jaw bone. My wrist pushed up against her chin and I could see the confused look on her face as her knees dug deeper into the black bench. Her eyes on me, if she was trying to decide how much she enjoyed my hand around her throat. The confused look turned to joy as I my heart rate rose and my breathing shallowed. It was noticeable over the music in the room, with its heavy beats that were drowning out everything else. Her naked hips moved with the sounds and her chest heaved up and down in front of my face. We were surround by others, other who were enjoying the sight of this woman straddling me, pushing with all of her might to satisfy her hidden desire and my not so hidden intent. Others, in this crowed room of naked bodies and desperate men, did not find this to be as enjoyable, and quicker than my inebriated mind could grasp I was lifted up, I think on my own, though it could have been with the help of the suited six foot, fourteen shaved headed bouncer.
"We do not put our hands on the girl!" with such authority, and clarity, I had no choice but to respond with "yes sir." The girl grabbed his arm with both of hers begging for leniency and gentleness, I am sure with the expectation that my pocket book would extend past closing at this high-end strip club in Denver. "I want my lawyer" came from somewhere inside of me, and like magic he was there. "Pierre, whats happening?" "Kim, they want me to leave…. Cant touch the girls… Why do I have a french name… Hand around her throat…. He touched me…" Kim threw his five foot six frame between us and said we would leave on our own volition. And we were out in the fresh air, breathing deep the cool Colorado breeze. We made it a block before he started laughing, and another before I stopped talking about seeing the girl in an hour.
It was a week later over a couple of beers that I was educated in the differences between choking and strangling. I am surprised to this day how much worse it sounds to say "I was strangling a girl," rather than "I was choking a stripper." Semantics, but more than potato or tomato, there is a visceral abhorrence to the idea of strangling; where as we are all more comfortable with the sexual connotations that exist with the word choke. I now spend time going word to word that we use interchangeably looking for another such dichotomy. In reality, it was not the pronunciational difference such as the tomato or potato comment but rather an inherent misunderstanding of the definition. If words are to have meanings, and de facto making them important, it is just as important that we know what those meanings are. To write the way our for fathers would have wanted us, or even to meet the standards of Christopher Hitchens would require a significant better understanding of our own vernacular.
During our small chances of lucid conversation between the laughter, we were able to piece together a night where this story is but just one small part of the amazement that the team from the small corporation Captains, Inc. – a fake company we created, to hide our jobs and to completely separate the night from our daily reality– were able to walk away.
Twelve hours prior to me being forcibly removed –sorry, I left on my own according to Kim– from the night club; we were laughing at my luck with women. Something that clearly would not change with the night. This was followed by the creation of a small consulting firm designed to help with movie productions, specifically that weekend in Denver. A chance to possess a persona in which we could slough off accountability and obligations. I found that my french name came from the restaurant that we dinned in. Here we only spoke french, well in reality only one of us spoke french, the rest would make nasally guttural sounds. "Ughh ugh," and "Pierre, Jean, and Francis" were shouted back and forth in toasts to our good luck. The wait staff was disappointed in our lack of french skills as Francis ordered for us and apologized for us, flirted for us, and eventually helped us leave before we caused more harm than good. Then it was my turn. We moved to a night club in Larimer Square and were escorted to a table where bottles of vodka stood waiting.
Our rock star status was solidified as the women begged to spend time with the jacket laden crew and their free flowing booze. Dancing was followed by dancing, which can only lead to making out. Making out can only lead to making out inappropriately. Our venture at this club was coming to an end as the manager was chastising our server for her friendliness and the other tables were inviting us back to their condo for after hours. Lights came on, bets were lost and won, booze was imbibed and given away and we were happy when we were walked down stairs to the waiting limo.
Walking backwards, I passed through the black curtain that separated a small room from the hallway and was unceremoniously pushed down into a chair. The chair was more of short bench spanning from black wall to black wall. The girl that was doing the pushing was also doing the smiling. A sly grin, not hiding the suggestions that it held as I braced myself with both hands on the bench. The conversation was short, and witty, though the banter was quickly lost as my eyes, hypnotized by her movements, focused on the girl in front of me. Like an indian snake charmer I was sat immobile and mesmerized. Slowly, as I began to relax, I smiled. Another song is played, and the act begins again. There was something in my relaxation, something in my look, that infuriated her, she recognized my esoteric disappointment. She couldn't take being pushed to the back of my mind, she need it to be about her, about the money I was giving her. She was tired of being just another girl, tired of it being just another guy with more cash than they should be allowed to walk around with. With a rising sense of desperation, her sharp nails dug deeper in to my shoulders and her mouth pushed against my face. My response was fast and immediate when she sunk her teeth into my neck. With my hands around her, I grabbed her, pushed her, tried to bend her into me. Her breathing was loud and rhythmic, the music was louder and two more songs went by. We found each other smiling, not in love, or of joy but rather the smile that comes after exhaling deep, the release of all excess and indelicate emotions – of satisfaction. I found my hand around her neck, and her hand on my wrist, her body on top of mine, moving ever so…
Given our proclivity for women, booze, and inappropriateness we managed to find our way to the late night strip club. There is a story of a camel who carried straw, and it would seem that one strand of straw broke his back. As you can see the wheels were coming of this train and the wreck was going to spread from the front steps of a strip club's back door to the hotels fifth floor. We were seven deep, five originals (with french names) and two additional women when we struggled to convince the man at the back door of the club to let us in. With missing IDs and credit cards we still managed to get us into this sprawling palace of erotic fun. I can not speak for my friends at this point, in fact as the story goes some immediately turned around to leave, only to be left wondering floor to floor in the hotel threatening the lives of all residents who tried to get in their way.
Lights, women, cages, music, and the allure of private rooms had Kim going back to the ATM machine with a frequency that could ruin your credit and mine. I myself was immediately infatuated with this innocent looking girl who grabbed my by the hand. "Can I dance with you?" My defenses were still strong, and I passed at the opportunity. Checking on Kim and the others I made my rounds. Convincing friends not to use the ATM machine, not to get separated, not to lose their room keys. It was not to much longer that I had given up on trying to put the wheels back on the train, or taking straw off the camel and I jumped head first into the river, placed my debit card into the machine, and was carried down stream by a vigorous dark haired figure, until I too ran ashore.
Happy 30th Birthday to friends of whom I am not worthy, whose time is too valuable for the likes of me and my antics. To them I offer this epic night, where this is just one of many stories that would have you crying, and the teller blushing.
Like Everyone Else
"So, just like everyone else? Thats what is bothering you, isn't it? The fact that you have to experience the same things as the rest of us, the masses."
An interesting point made in a conversation about a personal situation in my life. I had just finished telling my friend that its "not my style," and "thats not how I normally am," or even "that is just not me, I don't make those mistakes, I don't allow those responses." She sat across from me and pointed out the obvious. I don't like to be lumped into the greater masses of humanity. I don't. As we all tell each other and mostly ourselves that we are special and different, I am walking down the back end of one of the most common mistakes that can be found, it is a shame I guess that it took me thirty years to make it (or more importantly to learn from it.)
They say that to fall in love is the demonstration of our humanity. Or, maybe they don't, and I just came up with that. I have lived my life as a realist with the desire of a romantic. Staring at the skies, dreaming away the here-and-now for a distant future. Yet I have always grounded myself in the reality of the moment; the shifting landscape of my life and my instability. My world around a card table, with the deck open and the cards laid bare; in a rash and desperate gamble I went "all in." Was it a bluff, God, yes it might have been. For I have no idea what would have happened if I had won this hand. But, even as I pushed my chips forward I knew the outcome. Deep down, where my rational and disciplined mind still churned away, angry and pissed that it was being ignored and pushed to the side, yelled out "bloody hell, what a fucking mess." It is this aspect that my friend was trying to tell me makes us human. That our desires will overpower our most basic survival mechanisms. That logic and reason can be lost to the temptation of passion. That we are willing to ignore all of our other senses to hide the most basic truths around us. That I could be blind to such transgressions that would make the relationship almost untenable no matter how the cards fell.
We look out across the world and our senses are bombarded by the graphic displays of love, romance, fairy-tails, heartache… It is on our TVs, played out in movies, and dominate the music we listen to. Yet, avoidance of these logical failures is almost impossible as our basic needs drive us towards relationships, and companionship. No, I did not want to be like one of the many, I wanted to be strong, different, rational and still in control. And as my control slipped and my desperation climbed, I could feel my dignity slowly slip out between my fingers. Dignity; that is the hardest part about this. I wish I had quit the situation a day earlier, a week earlier, a month earlier; but I couldn't. I held onto what we all do in trying times, hope. Misplaced, unreturned, and torturous for a man who has stated time and time again that hope is not a method.
Clearly by this point I have given you enough to understand what the general situation must be in this relationship. Well, what was a relationship, for the ultimate in todays modern, hip-generation of closure is the de-friending of someone on Facebook, thank you Mark Zuckerburg. So we moved full circle from where we never made it official, meaning no Facebook status, to officially over, because we are no longer Facebook friends. Such is life, such is life, God I hate those words, I hate the prospect that the loss of my dignity, the time spent thinking over each word said, each action taken, or each word not said, could end up being nothing more than a personal lesson to take forward with me to the next. I have hurt others, but I have always been honest; and now I have been hurt, though this is the only time that you will read it, or hear me say it. I am stronger than that, just as each of you are. She was not honest in her dealings with me, and gave me a false sense of hope and security. A girl, no more than a child playing at adulthood, could not fathom what was going on around her. And I forced her to make a decision in the face of my honesty, one that should could not make for weeks (or without her parents,) until finally she said no, "stop pushing–please."
Am I like the rest of you? Clearly. Have I ever been different, no. No, in the sense that humanity shares more similarities than differences. No, in the idea that as I travel around the world and discover that every culture shares ideas, values and dreams. I am one of the rest, though maybe more stubborn at times. The concept that my uniqueness is unique in and of itself is an allusion. For if each fingerprint is different, if each grove is unique, then are we not all the picture of the 1960's Berkley students sitting on the wall -demonstrating their individuality by all looking the same? In the shadow of our electronic personas maybe we have created (engineered) an even more separate account of who we are, allowing for the differences in time, location and ability to give us space to shape who and what we want to be; forever changing the nature of truth and how we share truths or how we create a uniqueness. In the end the truth is that you move on, you learn, adapt, accept, and maybe even grieve (I am sure this sounds more like an AA meeting now than a blog.) for a moment, though I have always claimed to be different, separate, alone; for just a moment, I was a stereotype, a cliche', a story so old that never needs retelling because of its ubiquitous nature. For those weeks, days, hours and minutes I was as all star-crossed lost souls are; hurt, weak, and shameful in the shedding of my pride to win a prize that was never mine.
So another day forward, one less minute spent on a problem that was solved two weeks ago. Another day forward, and one less minute.
A Solitary Peak (Part Three)
The sun wakes me up; with a grumpy, groggy groan, I push my arms free of the sleep that has locked them into place. The cap goes to the ground and I scratch my head with both hands until the dirt of the last day is free from the shaggy blonde. I place a canteen of water on the embers and wait for it to boil as I wash my face and hands. I put the flask away and make coffee in the canteen. I am aware of where I am at, as well as where I want to be in the next few hours. The summit is close, as I knew it was last night. I am still not sure why I just didn't go to the top, but then again I am sure that something distracted me. My thoughts run through the marathon of what transpired inside my own head from the night before. No shit, a map helps, no shit, that compasses will point north (for the most part) and no shit, I will make the summit in less than a few hours.
Where I am at, and where I am going, or am I where it thought I would be, are interesting diversions from a few much more simpler questions. Namely, am I where I should be? The simple answer to that question is, yes, I am exactly where I should be. With ease and grace, I go thought the motions of being in the wood line, of living off of nothing. There is confidence in my movements, and where there is none, I will fake it until I have earned it. I have done the same for my occupation for the last decade that it is natural to act with confidence before it has been earned by time and trials.
Where else could I be, well I dream daily of all of the places I could be. This morning and the cup of coffee in my hand are no different; I have visions of the oceans, of cities, of a life with more stability. And these dreams and visions are nice, I have reason to believe the grass is greener on the other side. I have the same reasons to believe this that others use to attend mass. So I keep dreaming, and imaging all of the other things that I could want. Yet when I am in a stack and the door is in front of me, and it is my voice that I hear in the head set "Breach, Breach, Breach," followed by the concussion of the flex charge, I know. When my Team Sergeant turns and looks in my eyes and gives me a thumbs up, I know. When I am covered in dirt and sweat, and I have dropped my kit and am sitting at a computer typing out the reports and my Junior Charlie brings me a beer, I know. I know that I am exactly where I should be at this moment and time.
Maybe when I was ten, or fifteen or a freshman in college I might have thought that I would be somewhere else, that I would be in a power suit and married. That with my family is where I would spend my thirtieth birthday. That maybe I would be mature enough to have forgiven those whom have trespassed against me. That I would be stable, that I could be looked upon as a model citizen of this nation, a rule follower that left his personal revolution behind in his mid twenties. That, however is just not where I am at, and I would not trade any of those things for the life that I have lived. Regrets are as hot and as painful as the burning coals that burnt my hand pulling boiling water from the flames.
I have regrets and I still have dreams, I have those that I wish would apologize to me, and those that I should forgive. Yet a quirky mix of stubbornness, laziness, and anger have kept me from these things. I know this much and about this much only, I have moved past the point of being able to lay out a plan, or create a map, I cannot change who I am now today. Those choices are gone. I cannot wake up tomorrow and say today I will be a fireman and a husband, or a banker and a father. I must live with the reality that I am soldier, that I am a rule breaker, that I have faults, and that I am alone for most of my time.
I know as well that each day is mine to make, and though I belong where I find myself, I have the ability to change directions, to make a new course, that I can slowly move towards new ends. Though, the very nature of the person that I am, the values that I hold dear, will bind me toward certain ends. That the obligations of my past must and will direct the course of my immediate future. The path is before me and the pines keep me on course, the water will quench my thirst, and my legs will push me up the hill. All of this is possible and is happening, though I am not physically trapped upon the trail, the trail is taking me where I am headed. The path has been chosen over the course of a thousand moments. And I am here and in the now as I place my hands on the rocks, pulling me up towards the pinnacle.
As I stand upon the top of the peak, I look around and smile. As I have said, the ocean would be nice, the money of being a banker would be comfortable, the companionship of a woman would be soothing, yet here I am, exhilarated and exhausted. I am where I thought I would be just a few short days ago when I decided to climb this mountain. The pressure and stress, the exertion that I have placed into any moment must be so much as to clear my head and allow me to live in the sublime seconds. I am where I belong; more importantly, I am where I have paid the price to be. I am who I am, not who I wished that I would be, nor who I dreamt I would become, I am more, I am real. As I sit down on the rocks and pull my water from my bag, I know that I have become something that I am proud of, that I am where I am proud to be. It is these moments that alleviate all of the anguish and pain of my failings, of being alone late at night, of not being who and what I thought, of all my faults, and for a brief moment that I will chase after to find again, I am at peace.
A Solitary Peak (Part Two)
The cool mountain air is refreshing, and the flask is bitter. The night time sky is an incredible maze of connected dots. I breathe deep the shallow air and bite down on the small opening of the flask. The fire burns low before me and i am reclined against my bag and a tree, a technique perfected in the army. I take the time to look around, to study where i am sitting and the land that i am currently surrounded by. I notice the pine trees, the large rock across from me, the roots reaching out of the dirt, and the sounds of the night, all surround me. I am taking stock of what i have, and where i am at. Shy of ten thousand feet, and miles away from the trail head, i am on a mountain in Colorado. As i close my eyes i know exactly where i am, it is easy with a compass, map and reference points. The peak to my west, the trail bends and the contour of the ridge line. These are the metrics used to find myself on a map, or the way to describe where i am at in a very basic physical sense.
Another pull of my flask and i am reminded that no matter how hard it was to determine where i thought i would be, it is even harder to describe where i am in life. I have no map, compass or a series of land marks to be able to accurately say where i am. The map of course that i am missing is the one that i so readily failed to draw in my youth. With no clear cut understanding of what success or failure is, with no clear goal such as the summit of the mountain, i not only find myself lost, but floating on the winds of irreverent wandering as well. As way leads on to way, and each choice will not come back i have continually been of the mindset to take the choice at hand, make the best decision possible and then push has hard as possible forward. Each of these choices sometimes seemed to be fresh mistakes but none the less, they have brought me to where i am today.
Another deep pull from the metal lip of the flask, this time the brown liquid burns all the way down. A harsh reminder of the truth and the nature of relativism. The stars dance around the shadows of the large pines and i for a moment do what comes naturally and i am lost in the vision of the ocean, screaming across waves with nothing but the pasty clouds of the milky way above me for direction. A noise in the woods brings me back to the fire and drink and my solitary adventure through my own life.
Physically i reside in a military town, in a townhome that is filled with the newest appliances. It is way too much room for just me. But the amenities and conformist nature of the two cars in my garage and the pictures on the wall, as well as the expensive furniture, all satisfy the background urge for stability. The toys fall into both categories of my conformist and non conformist contradictions, an old CJ7 and a thirty foot sail boat. My job again satisfies both aspects. As a special forces officer, i have promotions and a career, yet the nature of the job is unconventional and random at almost all times. The Army as a whole is not for me, yet the money is just good enough that i am afraid to leave. Thou not enough for me not to think about it daily. I have an education and a couple of degrees, and enjoy expressing my academic capability at every turn.
Mentally, i reside in a world of contradictions, with a strong desire to set out on my own with nothing, to the more immediate pressing urge for relationships and companionship. I am constantly in a state of struggle trying to determine what i want from the day at hand. The psychologists will tell you that i test off the charts as an introvert, yet display strong signs of extroversion, meaning that i should wear a sign that would let people know when i want to be left alone and when i am ready for everyone. The proof i guess is that i am on a mountain by myself, and wishing that someone was sitting across from me. Well, another pull from a flask that is damn near empty.
Emotionally, i am more mature for my age than i will ever let on, and struggle each day to prove that i am less mature than i am. Though this rarely works in my favor. I have lived times that others already are saying were best forgotten. I have smelled the crisp burning of flesh and held the dying in my arms, i am constantly amazed that i can comely look around the extravagance of my humble life style and not lose focus. I am grounded and take a realistic approach to most obstacles. I am unhindered by emotions and morality in the accomplishment of my daily tasks at hand. And, yet, i leave so much up to chance knowing that my control is mostly my self-made illusion.
The night sky closing in around me, and i know i am tired, way too tired to still be awake. I look around again at the fire, trees, rocks, and sky. I slide a little farther back into my recliner, and pull the brim of my hat down over my eyes. Tonight i will sleep peacefully, i hope. Everything is packed and put away and the stars that were dancing around the trees slow down, and fall silent.
A Solitary Peak (Part One)
The trail opens up before me, it had been tighter than expected for the last two miles and eight hundred feet in elevation. It opens up as the trees thin out; I am still below eleven thousand feet, though occasionally I can see the summit nearly five more miles away. I know that I will stop here, I am going to have to back track, the trail has lead me the wrong way. The ridgeline is headed south and the peak is still to my west. I know where I have gone wrong, yet at the same time, have I, the world I look at is as I want to be. The pines smell of the stickiness that are their needles and I breathe it in deeply. A long pull from my water, with the ever present urge to take a pull from the flask, I look at my compass and take stock of what is around me.
I was asked recently "am I where I thought I would be?" Clearly, the most immediate answer as I look along the ridgeline and then back over my shoulder to the summit is, no. No, I am not. Yet at the same time, I am on the mountain, I am moving with strength and ease. The strength of a body and mind prepared for hardships and duress that can be found at these elevations, and the ease of a man comfortable with his surroundings given that the knowledge to handle the problems come readily to him. So, I am exactly where I should be. Though, that is not the question at hand. To be able to answer this question I must first be able to come to grips with where I wanted to be. And for me that is a much harder statement than originally thought.
I have persistently daydreamed my days away. Never have I spent too much time in the here and now, the confines of the rings upon which I have entered have been the only places that have grounded me in the moment. Those rings have had boundaries, ropes, nightmares and even a desert. Within these confines, my adversary or task has taken all other options away from me, other than the here and now. The persistent dreams of the future have always clouded the reality of where I wanted to be. By this I mean, my dreams are without substance and push the limits of both time and space, they are the dreams of the young, of the romantic, of the renaissance. All of this to say that I dreamt that I would be on a slightly less than luxury yacht, sixty feet, huge sails pulling at the wind, and a beautiful traveling companion. This future has no location when it comes to age or money, or how I got there. These dreams can be closely compared to those of slaying dragons, and I have taken down many.
I have wrapped these dreams, as I aged, with glories of the battlefield, of dreams of love and romance, of all the things that a young man should dream of. And yet I sit here and still fail to answer the question at hand. Where did I expect to be? Dreams are never where you expect to be but rather what you wish to be possible. Well I dreamed away my expectations and wondered with ambiguity through choices, pushed by peer pressure, social desires, and need to be something other than what I was at the time. The persistent fight against fear itself. Without specifics, I moved forward from one challenge to the other imagining that with each accomplishment I would be taken farther from the place at hand, that with each success would bring me to new destinations. I continued along this path as I pushed through middle school and then to high school where I dreamed of the ocean and found the army. The path took me to many places that I knew were not for me no matter what potential I showed. Art school and my Olympic prospects where not far enough away for me, and the boyhood fantasy of the glories of war triumphed.
By high school I was unable to fathom a reality that I would find, though the expectation was that I would be at a Military School and on my way to graduation. Though is that a real answer, how far forward must I look for this to be a fair representation of where I thought I would be. One month, a year, three years, I can say that I have ended up exactly where I thought I would be three years ago, and can say with some certainty that I have been correct as long as the picture was within three years. So where did I think I would be. The ephemeral answer would be, successful, married, and happy. Have I been these things, maybe, never, and sometimes would be the associated answers. My success is at the middle levels of the army, those that have worked for me will tell you that I have done well, and those I have worked for will tell you the same, yet the harsher crowd of my peers may not. This crowd of peers has continualy diminished as I have pushed past one test after another leaving me in one of the more elite captain positions in the army. Marriage has been allusive as possible as I find myself struggling to just be happy with the women that I have found. I have come close to this woman, and yet I chose to walk away. I allowed this memory of what I made into perfection to ruin any chance of a successful relationship in the towns where it was possible. Happiness, well, the roller coaster of the cosmic play has been comedic tragedy for me, and I have found humor and happiness in moments, the dull ache of un-fulfillment of the majority and the occasional brief moments of happiness so ephemeral that I have raced around the world looking for it again.
The suns glow has diminished has I finish pulling tight the lines of the poncho that I have strung up between two trees. I look back at the smoldering start of the fire and add some more wood. The flask sits alone before me. The mountain has been no different than my life, my thoughts centered around the summit and never the trail…


text:
Point Reyes Farmstead Cheese Collection
- Only at Williams Sonoma
- Exclusive
- Vendor Shipped
Easy, hassle-free returns online and in-store for eligible items.Learn More
Earn 5% Back in rewards4 plus free standard shipping3every day when you shop with your Williams Sonoma credit card at Williams Sonoma.Apply Now Learn More
- Summary
Since 1959, the Giacomini family has been raising cattle in Northern California's verdant coastal fields, initially selling their milk to the local creamery. They eventually took on cheese making themselves, producing their Original Blue, California's first classic blue-style cheese, in 2000. Today, all four cheeses made by Point Reyes Cheese Farmstead Cheese have won awards around the world. This collection highlights two of their most popular offerings: creamy, pungent Original Blue and Dutch-style, semihard Toma, along with a package of crisp La Panzanella crackers. Perfect for snacking, these cheeses make entertaining easy, even for large groups.
- 12 oz. each Original Blue and Toma, plus 3 oz. La Panzanella sea salt crackers.
- Shipped chilled.
- Made in USA.
- Because the items in this collection are crafted in limited quantities, we may occasionally have to make substitutions with similar items of equal quality.
- Use & Care
- The cheese ships chilled with ice packs. Refrigerate the cheese upon receipt. It is best stored in a vegetable bin or container away from the refrigerator fan. Leftover cheese is best rewrapped in parchment or waxed paper. Plastic wrap is not recommended. It is best to consume the cheese within 1 to 2 weeks of receipt.
- To experience each cheese's full flavor, serve at room temperature.
- The cheese ships chilled with ice packs. Refrigerate the cheese upon receipt. It is best stored in a vegetable bin or container away from the refrigerator fan. Leftover cheese is best rewrapped in parchment or waxed paper. Plastic wrap is not recommended. It is best to consume the cheese within 1 to 2 weeks of receipt.
- Ingredients
- Original Blue: Cultured raw cow's milk, salt, enzymes (microbial), Penicillium roqueforti.
- Toma: Cultured pasteurized cow's milk, kosher salt, enzymes (microbial).
- La Panzanella Mini Croccantini Crackers: Enriched flour (wheat flour, niacin, reduced iron, thiamin mononitrate, riboflavin, folic acid), expeller-pressed canola oil, extra-virgin olive oil, sea salt.
- Shipping
Shipping Information
Please allow 2-5 business days for processing and delivery. This gives our artisan partners time to prepare your order with exceptional care and attention to detail. A more accurate delivery date will be quoted on the payment page. Perishable food items are not eligible for rush shipping. Please not that we do not ship perishable food items outside the contiguous 48 states or to P.O. Boxes.
Shipping Rates
The shipping rate varies depending on your order total and shipping destination. View Shipping Options and Charges.
Next Day Delivery
For an additional charge of $26 per address, we can expedite delivery to most destinations. This service is not available for some oversize items, items shipped directly from the supplier (including perishable and custom-manufactured items), out-of-stock items and items to be shipped outside the contiguous 48 states.
Orders received by 9:00 p.m. ET Monday through Thursday will arrive the next business day; orders placed Friday through Sunday will arrive on the following Tuesday.
Return Policy
At Williams Sonoma, we take great pride in the quality and craftsmanship of our products. Attention to design, materials, safety and construction are our priority. Upon receipt, please inspect your purchase and notify us of any damage; we will arrange for a prompt replacement.
If within 30 days, you are dissatisfied for any reason, you may return your purchase for a refund of the merchandise value. An original receipt or gift receipt is required for all returns and exchanges. Returns with a gift receipt will be refunded in the form of a Merchandise Credit for the amount indicated on the gift receipt. Returns with original receipt will be refunded in the original form of payment, cash and check refunds over $100 will be issued as a company check (may take 14 business days from time of request).
For all cutlery returns (knife sets, single knives, cutting boards, knife sharpeners and knife storage), please contact us at 888.922.4108 to initiate the return.
We cannot accept returns on monogrammed, personalized, special-order items, custom upholstery, food, items shipped direct from the vendor or on items damaged through normal wear and tear. Final sale items ending in .97 or .99 cannot be returned.
Made to Order and Final Sale Furniture items are non-returnable and cannot be cancelled once the order is placed.
For returns of items purchased from your Williams Sonoma Gift Registry, we will gladly provide a refund or exchange for the merchandise within 90 days of your event or within 90 days of purchase, whichever date is later. View Full Returns Policy.
Pairs Well With
Best of Point Reyes Cheese Collection
Cheese Collection
- Exclusive
- Vendor Shipped

subset: commoncrawl


text:
tesa® Permanent Hook FLIPPA METAL is a decorative dolphin-shaped hook made of stainless steel equipped for permanent fixation.
1 Not suitable for use on styrofoam, foamed material, surfaces with non-stick coating, porous materials
tesa® Permanent Hook FLIPPA METAL will definitely add an accent to your bathroom. This decorative bathroom accessory is made of high-quality brushed stainless steel shaped like a dolphin. It comes with a self-adhesive backing that allows fast and tool-free fixation without the need to drill holes. Why not use it as decorative bathroom hook for your kids or permanent hooks to hang up all kinds of lightweight objects wherever you want them within easy reach?
Choose a Region:


text:
Okay.....some of you may remember that I posted pics of about 20 of these blocks a few months ago. The fabrics all came from a swap I was involved in. I peiced the blocks and put the top together but, now need a border. I want a simple plain border as this quilt is a remake of an 1896 pattern. What I need is suggestions for color....? Should I go with a plain dark color or a dark multi color or a brown or a blue or...you get the idea...I have every color combination possible going on here so there are tons of possibilities.
Help! It's 11:16 pm and my brain is fried and I have to work at the Quilt Shop tomorrow and want to pick up the border fabric then. I hope I catch some late nighters or early risers!


text:
Somerset Christian College 10 College Way Zarephath, NJ 08890 Phone: (732) 356-1595 x1100
General Information About Somerset Christian College
Mission Statement Somerset Christian College educates, inspires, and equips students for excellent scholarship, service, and leadership. Rooted in and committed to Christian faith and love, SCC fosters intellectual, spiritual, and social development among its diverse student population at various instructional sites.
Institutional statistical data was gathered from the U.S. Department of Education - Institute of Education Sciences, National Center for Education Statistics, 2009-2010.
Institution Type
- 4-year, Private not-for-profit
Special Learning Opportunities
- Distance learning opportunities
- Weekend/evening college
Student Services
- Remedial services
- Academic/career counseling service
Credit Accepted
- Dual credit
- Credit for life experiences
- Advanced placement (AP) credits
- The acceptance of credits for work experience or military experience are subject to review by the school and cannot be guaranteed.
Religious Affiliation
- Wesleyan
Federal Aid
- Eligible students may receive Pell Grants and other federal aid (e.g. Direct Loans).
Degrees/Certificates offered
- 1-2 years certificate
- Associate's degree
- Bachelor's degree
Campus Setting Disability Services Student
- 3% or Less
Admission Total Applicants 83 Percent Admitted 40% Men Admitted 64% Women Admitted 18% Full Time Retention Rate 62%
Student Demographics Total Enrolled 273 Native American 0.0 Asian 6.0 African American 120.0 Hispanic 38.0 Enrolled FullTime Undergraduates 228 Enrolled FullTime Graduates


text:
Making your world beautiful
Rose & Blossom is the Inland Northwest's favorite florist for wedding flowers.
We're experienced perfectionists when it comes to our weddings, priding ourselves in creative designs that are fresh, beautiful, and affordable.
We custom design flowers to fit the personality of the couple as well as the theme of the wedding, often surprising the bride with flowers even more beautiful than expected. We truly love engaging in the creative process for each and every one of our brides— we're here to make your wedding beautiful.
Our story
Terri O'Connor
Terri started Rose and Blossom in 1991. As a Gonzaga business school graduate, her professional side keeps your flowers on time and within budget, while her creative side imagines floral arrangements that ensure your wedding is the best—and most beautiful—day of your life. Her favorite flower is a classic and the company's namesake, the rose.
Jennifer Wilcox
Kelly Sanchez
Nothing gets past Kelly. Our resident perfectionist, she's a stickler for detail. Kelly has over two decades of experience, has owned her own floral shop, and got her start in this business as a floral delivery driver at 19. Her favorite flower is a toss up between the white oriental lily and large light pink peonies.


text:
For students/scholars without cars.
Have you been surprised at the whole bill from the whole food, or wondering why so few choices in the local groceries. Actually, there are many asian markets in the great Chicago area, but much of them are 20-30 mins away by car. So we design a car pool program. If you want to join this program, please fill out the following form. Please remember to be polite and patience when seeking help from others. Your privacy is our priority. We won't distribute your information in public.
For students/scholars with cars.
The Chinese community is larger than your imagine. Sharing ride will be a good opportunity to make new friends and complement your network. If you would like to share a ride in the your trip to grocery, please fill out the following form. We will share a google spreadsheet with you. The sheet contains the information of emails, addresses and department. Just simply send out an email to the recipients and let them know your shopping date and time. Based on your capacity, you can decide who to be taken.
Services >


text:
AND JUST LIKE THAT, THE YEAR OF THE KIWI IS OVER! Fast year, eh? One of those mini-years; a year-lette if you will.
I'm writing this from Australia–where I am staying for 8 days and LOVING IT–and I've yet to grasp a single wisp of inspiration as to how to properly summarize my end-of-days in New Zealand. Rest assured, I wasn't forced out legally.
Let me instead hurl some of my revelations at you:
- I was brave. Emily J. Poprocks is, for better or worse, a dreamer and not so much a doer. 'Doing' wrinkles your clothes so you have to do laundry; it makes you hungry and then you have to go grocery shopping again; it makes failure a possibility.
But I DID move across the world! I figured out how to make a phone plan work, opened a foreign bank account, and found a home and a job and ukulele. I started an inconsequential drawing club that I loved. I made plans and kept some of them and missed a flight and jumped off a waterfall and drank different coffee and got lost and I can't wait to do it again somewhere new.
- I made the sweetest, strangest friends.
This is not to say that my pre-New Zealand friends were not sweet or strange because of course I only associate myself with borderline mythical creatures whose epidermises are covered in powdered sugar. I was just surprised that I made real, actual friends that I genuinely want to–and know I will–see again! #Europe2019
- I have a weirdly rigid work ethic, but not in a good way. Once I found a job it was all over for spontaneity. Must work on this (but not like work work.)
- I HATE A ROUTINE. It was nice to feel like I knew what was coming at me on the cosmic freeway, but having a schedule and bills with my name on them made me want to climb up a tree and never come down. So instead of staying put another 6 months, I'm moving to Hawaii.
Maybe I'll go back one day and maybe I won't, but New Zealand will always be part of me, like an extra kidney or maybe an important vertebra♥
Stay tuned for a forthcoming anthology on the virtues of Melbourne, land of graffiti!


text:
Sep 11, 2019
$60,000 - $75,000 yearly
Overview Though 9 in 10 Latino young adults say a college degree is important for success in life, fewer than 15% age 25 or older hold a bachelor's degree. Voices College-Bound Language Academies exist to change that. Founded in 2006 by East San Jose native and National Board Certified Teacher Frances Teso, Voices is a public charter school network with a mission to prepare all students for the challenges of higher education through the context of an academically rigorous dual-language program. With the Voices dual-immersion model, students receive 80% of instruction in Spanish and 20% in English starting in kindergarten. The percentages shift by 10% per year until reaching 50:50 in third grade. As a result, every student, regardless of home language, graduates bilingual and biliterate in English and Spanish. In 2019-20, Voices will operate four public charter schools: Voices-Franklin McKinley (K-8), Voices-Morgan Hill and Voices-Mt. Pleasant (both Transitional Kindergarten - 5th, growing to Transitional Kindergarten - 8th) and Voices West Contra Costa (Transitional Kindergarten- 3rd). As we expand to serve more traditionally underserved students in Santa Clara County and surrounding counties, Voices seeks additional team members who share a commitment to its mission and believe joyful learning and world-class academic preparation are not mutually exclusive. Role Summary Voices' Human Resources Specialist supports our mission by ensuring Voices is a great place to work. Reporting to the Director of Human Capital, the Human Resources Specialist will be responsible for maintaining the human resource information systems (HRIS), managing employee relations, and maintaining compliance at the network and school level at all times. The ideal candidate will be meticulously organized, be both warm and demanding, and have an unwavering commitment to achieving Voices' mission. Key Responsibilities Credentialing: Ensure prospective teachers and instructional staff fulfill required steps to obtain appropriate credentials or permits before the start of every school year Prepare and submit applications to County Offices of Education and the California Commission on Teacher Credentials Coordinate and monitor the new teacher induction program (BTSA) Human Resources Administration Administer new hire requirements and driving Voices' new onboarding system aimed at accelerating new hire learning and acculturation Identify, develop, and implement goals and supporting actions for continual improvement of Voices systems, including management of the HRIS Support with benefit administration for all Voices employees Manage process for employee terminations Provide ongoing guidance to employees with regard to Voices policies and procedures Train new leaders and supporting school leaders on resolving personnel issues Collaborate on the annual revision of personnel policies and procedures, employee handbook, board policies and administrative regulations as they relate to human resources Plan, implement, and administer Voices' workers' compensation program, ensure network and school level compliance with state OSHA regulations, and all other federal, state and local laws Together with the Director of Human Capital, leverage and communicate to coordinate activities, resolve issues and conflicts, and exchange information with external experts Attend professional growth sessions for the purpose of keeping one's professional human resource knowledge current with changing laws and regulations Support the Technology Manager with ensuring intranet is up to date with key employee information Conflict Resolution: Provide coaching and guidance, as needed, to employees to resolve complaints and other matters relating to personnel management Conduct investigations, compile information, and prepare reports of findings for employee complaints, including those of sexual harassment Provide timely and effective communications to the Director of Human Capital regarding incidents and/or situations that might impact the Voices network or its individual schools Planning and Reporting: Monitor the maintenance of records and procedures in regard to transcripts, credentials, professional growth, and salary placement Assist the Director of Human Capital in collecting and analyzing comparative personnel data to inform program development, including statistical and compensation surveys and reports Complete internal, state, and federal reports as requested Culture and Retention Support with network-wide culture activities such as Core Value Awards Lead Team Z culture events and activities Lead the administration and reporting of the annual career interest survey; and plan the follow up leadership dinner Propose and develop new culture and retention initiatives under the guidance of the Director of Human Capital and in collaboration with the Talent Team Lead the administration and reporting of other staff surveys Voices Academies Human Resources Specialist candidates will have the following: REQUIREMENTS Required Qualifications: Minimum 2 years of experience in human resources Demonstrated knowledge and experience with California credentialing requirements Excellent English and Spanish oral and written communication skills, including the ability to prepare and present written materials succinctly and with precision; Ability to work well independently and within a team environment; working efficiently, and exercising excellent judgment in making decisions Demonstrated ability to coach others, providing consistent, fair, and policy-based direction Outstanding written, speaking, and organizational skills with experience interacting with a broad range of stakeholders Demonstrated passion for the mission, vision and values of Voices Academies with a deep commitment to improving the lives of students from low-income communities Experience or commitment to public education, social justice, efficacy and equity High proficiency in Microsoft Excel, PowerPoint, Word, and Google Apps Preferred Qualifications: A Bachelor's Degree in Education, Public Administration, Personnel/Human Resources or related field Working Conditions: Regular requirement to stand, sit, walk, talk, hear, see, read, speak, reach, stretch with hands and arms, stoop, kneel and crouch Lift and carry objects weighing up to 50 lbs. Occasional evening and or weekend work Occasional travel Willingness to be trained as needed Tolerate high levels of stress Prior to Employment : Once an offer has been extended, a candidate must meet the following criteria to receive a final contract: First Aid/CPR Certification Clear Criminal Background Check Valid TB Clearance BENEFITS Key Compensation: Annual Salary Range $60,000-$75,000 Medical benefits Exceptional growth opportunities Retirement plan Contract: Reports directly to Director of Human Capital Permanent Salaried, Exempt Position At-Will Contract If you have any questions about this position, please contact our hiring team by email at [email protected] . Thank you. Voices College-Bound Language Academies is an equal opportunity employer. It is the policy of Voices to afford equal employment and advancement opportunities to all qualified individuals without regard to race, creed, color, religion, national origin, ethnicity, ancestry, sex, sexual orientation, age, physical or mental disability, marital status, citizenship status, medical condition, or any other legally protected status.
Voices College-Bound Language Academies San Jose, CA, USA Full-time


text: KHODALDHAM is a motivation, brilliant and lovely inside and out, is exceptional and first of its kind. Spreaded in inconceivable range playing the hub and elements of different exercises in controlling and pushing forward the group. It is genuinely a profoundly inspiring background to witness the confidence of the fans. It is one of the… Read More


text: Travel and music go hand in hand. I can't imagine any of my journeys without music. The best way to enjoy your journey even if its super boring is by adding a touch of music. I'm gonna share with you all my favorites songs that I play during my travels. Add them up to your … Read More


text:
Welcome to Oriental Danny!
By creating an account with our store, you will be able to move through the checkout process faster, store multiple shipping addresses, view and track your orders in your account and more.
New customers to Oriental Danny, Inc., please fax us a copy of your resale tax ID certificate to 214-638-8381 to expedite account activation.
For existing customers, your information will be verified against our database.
If you have an account with us, please log in.
Checking "Remember Me" will let you access your shopping cart on this computer when you are logged out
* Required Fields


text:
Baseball's Opening Day is finally here, and we are very excited for another season of Major League Baseball. While the bunting will be hung today, the real action will start when our predicted winner for the American League Cy Young takes the mound on April 2 against the Oakland A's.
You guessed it….
44-year-old Texas Rangers Starting Pitcher Bartolo Colon.


text:
It seems sometimes that good manners or social graces are dying out. It may be that because of computers and the internet communication prevalent in our daily lives, many people feel there is no longer a need to be polite.Share
If you are wondering why I am writing about the topic of good manners, social graces and civility, it is because I am currently reading an interesting little book entitled Town & Country Social Graces: Words of Wisdom on Civility in a Changing Society. Each chapter is giving me lots of food for thought.
So far, I have read about privacy, or lack of privacy, accountability, playing fair, etiquette by email, rekindling the holiday spirit, being an American in a foreign country, on being a gentleman, on keeping the marriage alive and well, dressing for dinner, respecting our elders, saying Thank You, etc. and this is just at the beginning of the book.
Each chapter deals with some aspect on how we treat others in our society or how others treat us.
Can those of us who have good manners and are considerate change those who lack social graces? I do not know but it has to begin with each one of us to continue showing good manners even went tempted to say "The heck with it".
It all boils down to what Jesus has been trying to teach us from the very start: "Love your neighbor as yourself".
It is the reason, we are to die to ourselves. In a society where "I" comes first, we need to remember it is our brother or sister who comes first, "I" come last.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Civility and Social Graces
Civility and Social Graces
8 comments:
- Julygirl said...
It all begins at home. Children are people too and should be treated with respect. To me one can recognize a truly 'classy' person in the way they treat others, no matter whaat ranking they have in the social strata. I find that electronic social media such as 'Face Book' has become a new breeding ground for rudeness and even cruelty. It is one thing being rude in person, but it seems easier to do when one is not face to face. Also nasty E-mail confrontations are more likely than face to face ones.
- September 16, 2009 at 8:30:00 AM EDT
- elena maria vidal said...
So true, Julygirl, I find that all forms of social media require discipline and reorienting what we know about manners and kindness into a new form of communication.
- September 16, 2009 at 8:37:00 AM EDT
- Carol Bory said...
Thank you for sharing this excerpt from Esther's blog. I so agree that we need to "Love your neighbor as yourself."
- September 16, 2009 at 12:02:00 PM EDT
- healthily sanguine said...
Very timely, considering the news I have been reading! I added the book to my wish list on Amazon. :)
- September 16, 2009 at 1:00:00 PM EDT
- tubbs said...
All the phoney 'peace-n-love' during the 60's helped produce a rudeness in the public square.
I specifically remember peoples' behavior changing in so many ways back then. And today?...Walk thru the stacks of a big book store chain, or walk down the ramps of a major airport - and you'll find yourself having to walk over bodies that feel they have the right to sprawl all over the place. Go into (what should be)a nice restaurant and see clods using chairs or booths to rest the bottom of their feet. ....And public transportation in urban areas???...I wont even go there. But this kind of behavior was accepted as liberation from some kind of bourgoise-stuffy- uptightness!
Another lovely legacy from the Age of Aquarius.
- September 16, 2009 at 6:06:00 PM EDT
- Julygirl said...
I was in a Barnes and Noble where the mothers allowed their children to actually open up packaged book/toy items and leave them on the floor. One mother even rolled the stroller across the item she had allowed her child to open. This was in an affluent area or Northern Virginia. The sense of entitlement people have is appalling. It is not everywhere though. I currently live in an area of 'down-to-earth' simple people who are extremely polite and thoughtful whether in traffic or in the super-market.
- September 16, 2009 at 9:50:00 PM EDT
- Alexandra said...
" 'I' come last."
Yep, and I have been guilty of letting "I" come first on occasion. It's much easier nowadays to slip away from the good manners we learned in the "olden days". I catch myself doing or saying things that I wouldn't have when I was younger. (not unkind, just more casual)Sounds backwards, but it's true. Things are so much less formal now!
Thanks for the reminder. :)
- September 18, 2009 at 12:44:00 AM EDT
- Lynda @ Elegance Reclaimed said...
Hello Elena,
Thank you for this post.
My two cents is: though every person operates under different guild-lines of how to behave, to my way of thinking, consideration needs to be at the core.
Being raised with the teaching that rules were to be followed not used to judge, helps me keep in mind when around others, to work on inward instead of outward.
Why are manners and etiquette important? An accurate metaphor is manners and etiquette are the grease (so-to-speak) that keep society operating smoothly.
"I" is good if self-control and self-containment are prominent ... otherwise "I" just morphs into me-me-me.
- December 17, 2009 at 4:52:00 AM EST


text:
Heidi Pitlor is a bookish jack of all trades: novelist, former editor at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, and current series editor of The Best American Short Stories. We caught up with Pitlor this April at the Newburyport Literary Festival and asked her about upcoming short story trends, technology, and our obsession with domestic thrillers.
Bookish: You're the series editor of The Best American Short Stories, and each year you work with a different guest editor. What do you look for in a guest editor?
Heidi Pitlor: I try to find guest editors who are both critically and commercially successful. I also seek a diversity of writers, on every level: content, genre, style, personality, person.
Bookish: If you could pick any author, who would you want to work with next?
HP: Living, dead, anyone? Maybe because I was just reading a piece about him, the first person who comes to mind is James Baldwin. But if we're sticking to writers who are alive, I'd love to work with Toni Morrison, George Saunders, Donna Tartt, Colson Whitehead. I've been absurdly lucky to work alongside the authors who have guest edited the series since I've been on board. We only invite American writers or those who live here to guest edit the book, otherwise I'd ask Ian McEwan, Roddy Doyle, Kazuo Ishiguro, Hilary Mantel… I could go on and on.
Bookish: If you could only recommend one short story to our readers, what would it be?
HP: I think I'd have to know the reader first. Fiction is so subjective, as everyone knows. But if I were forced to suggest a few story writers to someone who had never read any American short fiction, I might suggest Sherwood Anderson, Flannery O'Connor, Raymond Carver, Alice Munro. Even listing those four was extremely difficult for me, and feels a little like being asked to pick the best person from a large country.
Bookish: Is there anything that you see in short stories that you wish was more present in novels? Or vice versa?
HP: That is so interesting and hard to answer. I guess that in literary stories and novels, and this is a vast and silly generalization, but I'd like to see a greater focus on momentum and conflict. It's easy for writers to get caught up in words and language, and forget about story.
In some ways, stories and novels aren't that different. They're different to write, of course, but when I'm judging writing I'm in the same place in my head: I'm either engaged or I'm not. I want to keep turning pages or I don't. One of the biggest gifts a writer can give a reader is to place a question at the beginning of the story or novel, a question that is only answerable by reading the pages that follow.
Also, I beat this drum all the time, I would love to see more humor. Comedy typically is associated with light fare, but I crave meaningful, deftly written, intelligent humor. Satire, weirdness, surprise.
Bookish: What new trends or themes do you expect readers to see in the future?
HP: More and more people are writing about technology. If I read anything set in the present day that has no mention of anything technological, I am suspicious. It's hard for me to gauge future trends right now because, since last fall, everything in country has been up in the air. I'm waiting to see what trends and themes will emerge from this moment in history. Right now there's just a lot of trepidation in the part of fiction writers, readers, publishers. (Nonfiction might have more solid ground.) That said, we might see themes of social justice and inequality creep into fiction. I do expect more writers to explore the impacts of technology.
Bookish: That's a tough balance to strike. How do you keep up with the times when technology is changing so rapidly? In the time it takes to write, edit, and publish a book your references may already be dated.
HP: It's tricky. But this is the world where we live right now. I'm always excited when I read a story that makes me think deeply about it or utilizes it in a way that's artistic and organic. In some ways, it's important as a writer to focus more on the writing and characters and their truth than on whether your references feel dated. To my mind, it's not the rapidly changing technology or cultural references that will feel dated in the future as much as certain attitudes. For example, sexism, racism and xenophobia, no matter how subtle (the Chinese launderer, the Indian grocer, the frumpy mom, the ditzy teenage girl) date a work of fiction far more than anything else.
Bookish: When you aren't compiling newest volume of Best American Short Stories, you're writing novels. You mentioned earlier that writers offer a question at the beginning of a book that readers are compelled to find the answer to. In your second novel, The Daylight Marriage, a woman goes missing. The obvious question is: What happened to her? But did you have another question in mind when you wrote it?
HP: Yes–I wanted to explore the culpability of Lovell, the husband. Even if he's not culpable in one way, is he in another sense? Where do we drawn our lines of culpability? To me, that is the most interesting question because there is no clear answer. As a writer, it's always more interesting to set yourself a question without a yes or no answer.
Bookish: Hannah's husband Lovell is a scientist, and in the novel you create a strong connection between science (and those small variables that can enact great change) and Hannah's disappearance. Why did you choose to weave these two elements together?
HP: Lovell is a regimented thinker, a climate scientist driven primarily by physical proof rather than emotion. I wanted to push him into a realm where he was forced to rely on his own intuition and emotion, where physical evidence came not from his own work but someone else's, in this case, the police. The novel is set during a time when many in government questioned the existence of climate change (this moment has unfortunately returned). Scientists were trying to prove the existence of global warming, as well as the fact that humans were at least partly to blame. The latter is infinitely difficult to prove, far more than it sounds. There are endless variables, and so we must rely on data drawn from correlative studies rather than directly causal data. Lovell is faced with a similar predicament after his wife disappears. And the more he thinks about what happened to her, the less he understands.
Bookish: Readers continue to be fascinated by novels that explore the things a character doesn't know about his or her spouse. Why do you think we're drawn to these stories?
HP: I started this novel right around the time of a high-profile murder in my town, a case involving a young husband and wife. I was fascinated by my own endless fascination with these people I had never known. So many of us are voyeurs. Writing fiction is a form of voyeurism. Marriage is often a closed room to everyone but the spouses. Fiction gives us the chance to explore these closed rooms, and if the spouses are closed off to each other? Even better for a reader.
I think that schadenfreude comes into play as well; we are glad to learn that a perfect-seeming couple is, in fact, anything but perfect. Not that my characters are perfect by any stretch, although they might look that way on first blush.
Bookish: You've said that Hannah's thread in the novel went mostly unchanged during the editing process. What was it about her story or character that you felt you nailed the first time around?
HP: Hannah was very clear to me from the beginning. I understood her sense of lost promise. She was someone who was set on a rather charmed path as a child, and a few things happened that bumped her off. Her life became, well, normal. Most lives do. That's part of growing up. But there's a loneliness and isolation to young motherhood that can exacerbate a sense of lost promise. I began with a very simple dialogue between Hannah and a man that she meets at a time when her desires are extraordinarily raw and available. He can see them and easily manipulate her, and this dialogue became the backbone for the rest of the book.
Bookish: Are you working on another novel now? Can you tell us anything about it?
HP: I am working on my third novel. one about motherhood and specifically mothering a boy in modern society, and a bit about publishing. It's satirical, so it's a departure for me. It's difficult at least for me to write about the world directly right now, so writing satirically feels just right.
Heidi Pitlor is the author of the novels The Birthdays and The Daylight Marriage. A former senior editor at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, she has been the series editor of The Best American Short Stories since 2007. Her writing has been published in Ploughshares, The New York Times, The Boston Globe, The Huffington Post, Labor Day: True Birth Stories by Today's Best Women Writers, and elsewhere. She currently teaches in the low-residency MFA program at Regis University in Denver. She lives with her twin daughter and son and her husband outside Boston.


text: What you eat and how much you eat can make a big difference in your health. Knowing that your body only needs protein, carbohydrates, fats, minerals, vitamins, water and air; gives you a head start on everyone else. Disease is most often an end result when one or more of these necessary nutrients are missing for a long enough time to break down one of your systems. The body is dynamic and has a great capacity to heal if these elements are re-established. Unfortunately, environmental factors such as drugs, stress and even lack of sleep can leach these necessary nutritional elements from your body and put you behind the 8 ball. I am a big believer in returning to basic whole foods and working with a practitioner that is well versed in this type of health care.


text:
We have a few options when it comes to transfers and can supply both screeprinted or vinyl cut transfers. Perfect for sports team numbers, adding designs to sports apparel or equipment and they look great on hats as well. The soft touch vinyl transfers are especially a trend worth looking into for any fashion forward brand out there.
Each type of transfers have strengths in different applications, Get in touch with our team to discuss which might be right for your design.


text:
Debra DeCourcy, APR
(317) 692-7873
(513) 405-5061
(Indianapolis) – March 17, 2017– Several Indiana Farm Bureau members will be loading up trailers and making the 1,600-mile trip to Kansas to deliver donated hay to ranchers who have a desperate need for feed for their livestock.
Ranchers and farmers in Kansas and other parts of the country have experienced massive devastation as wildfires, fueled by low humidity and high winds, have destroyed more than 650,000 acres of pasture and rangeland recently - killing livestock and the grazing land needed to feed the livestock that remain.
But John and Amanda Canary of Franklin have received help from several other INFB members to provide much-needed hay to farmers and ranchers in Kansas. On Friday John Canary, and fellow farmers Andy Duckworth, Johnson County Farm Bureau president, and Tyler Sneed and Justin Kaiser, also of Johnson County, will drive four trailers of hay to Ashland, Kansas, to support their fellow farmers.
"I was reading on social media about the devastation in Kansas and elsewhere and how the farmers and ranchers were struggling to feed their livestock because their pastures burned in the wildfires," explained Canary. "I had to do something and this seems like the perfect way to help."
The hay, more than 20 tons of it, was donated by Phil and Cindy Ramsey of Shelby County.
"I saw that John was asking for volunteers to donate hay. Cindy and I had some to spare so we thought someone could get some good out of it," Ramsey explained.
Ashland Feed and Seed is serving as the main collection point in Kansas for all the hay being donated by farmers in Indiana and throughout the country.
About Indiana Farm Bureau: Since 1919, Indiana Farm Bureau (INFB) has protected the livelihood, land, equipment, animals and crops of Hoosier farmers. It is the state's largest general farm organization and a farmer's strongest advocate. INFB works diligently to ensure a farmer's very right to farm, because agriculture is so vital to Indiana's economy. Learn more at INFB.


text:
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Look! They're male and female, and they're mating!
Sorry for the above X-rated photo and dialog. This is a photo that Nico asked my husband to take while the family was out walking recently.
This is one of the more amusing side-effects of Science education: sometimes Sex Ed comes along for the ride. Way back in the birds and the bees and the whales, I was fretting about what I should tell my kids about sex and when. Since then I've learned. Just stand back and let science take its course.
The down side is that while Nico now knows quite a bit about about the mechanics of human reproduction (extrapolating from the other species in his nature documentaries), he's a little hazy on a lot of the social trappings that are supposed to be the easy part. So one night a few weeks ago he asked me a few follow-up questions:
Nico: How did you meet Daddy?
me: We were in school together.
Nico: When mating, could you feel Daddy's sperm?
me: [hedging, not sure how to answer that one]
Nico: Does it hurt?
me: No, no, it's very sweet.
Nico: What about rival males?
me: You won't have to worry about rival males.
Nico: But in every species there are rival males...
me: Once your sweetie loves you, there won't be any rival males around.
I almost hesitate to write the above dialog since I'm sure at least some people reading this will be going "Wow, that's weird -- a six-year-old kid asking such questions!" But I figure that I might as well answer his questions as clearly and accurately as I can since he probably wouldn't have come up with these questions if he weren't ready to have answers.
It was questions like the above, though, that made my husband once muse that maybe these nature videos he's contantly watching aren't really appropriate for kids (as I mentioned here), what with all the sex and violence. Nico might talk about how "the male injects his sperm into the female and the eggs are fertilized" (in his BBC / David Attenborough voice) and people could get the wrong idea and think he's some sort of pervert...
Of course his passion for Biology isn't all about the mating. For fun, I'll throw in a few more of his recent drawings:
alpine newts
"les animaus de la bisse" -- one of his amusing phonetic spellings in French. It should be "les animaux de l'abysse" or "the animals of the abyss"
"The deep sea" -- as soon Nico saw this picture on the computer, he got all excited and told me the names of all the species he's drawn here. :D
18 comments:
- JohnR said...
What a great mind Nico has! Thanks for sharing this interaction with your son. It hit a tender spot--maybe because I wish I had had similar reassurances from my parents.
Anyhow, it would be difficult for me to resist answering tangentially and rationally that humans as a species do have to worry about rivals, even if mommy and daddy don't. I'm glad you didn't.
- Mr. Fob said...
Oh, great. First evolution, now sex. Science is clearly evil. I'm going to call my local politician now and demand that all science classes in elementary schools be replaced by Bible study.
- flygirl said...
Cute story! Your son sounds like he is very curious and has a great personality for such a little guy. Good answers on your part as well.
- C. L. Hanson said...
Hey John!!!
I know, I thought about mentioning that people do indeed have rivals, but it seemed a little complex for his level of understanding. He's thinking more in terms of these films he's seen of frogs or snakes or insects where mating is interrupted when a second male arrives and wants to take over. With humans you generally don't have to worry about that...
Hey Mr. FOB!!!
That should solve this problem!!! ;^)
Thanks FlyGirl!!!
- erlybird said...
Boy, oh Boy are YOU naïve! According to Men's Journal there are LOTS of rival males out there and if the article I read holds any water a lot of them are ALREADY sleeping with my wife! The Yoga Instructor, the Stay At Home Dad, the Desperate Ex, the Sensitive Co-Worker.
And as for Nico. You need to send that boy to Church! How else will he be able to experience the shame and mortification of his first wet dream?
- Pants said...
RIVAL MALES?! Oh my, that's funny!
- Rebecca said...
Anyone who thinks those questions are weird just hasn't spent much time around kids. Or at least not SMART kids.
- The Exterminator said...
When he asks you to promise that you won't eat his father's head off after mating -- it might be time to call in the shrink.
In the meanwhile, you should be delighted and proud to have such an inquisitive son.
- SAM-I-am said...
Hysterical! I actually did get the rivals question, in a different context ... but I have children by my ex, and a son with my husband. So the little one has raised some very big questions, including the $60 million question, why did I
stop loving [my ex].
Ugh. Not an easy question to answer both simply and honestly. I'll take the scientific sex questions over that any day. (Although I get those too.)
- C. L. Hanson said...
Hey ErlyBrd!!!
Wow, Nico's nature videos didn't cover any of that....
Hey Pants!!!
Cute, isn't it? ;^)
Hey Rebecca!!!
You may be right. I assumed this was weird because our whole family is a little weird... ;^)
Hey Exterminator!!!
The funny thing is that we've actually kind of talked about this. In one of the videos about arthropods there's a species of spider where the female is much larger than the male. In the sex scene, as soon as they're done, the female catches the male and wraps him up in web silk to eat him. As a comprehension question, I asked Nico if in humans the female eats the male after mating. He thought about it for a bit, and we concluded that the fact that his dad is still alive shows that they don't -- at least not every time. ;^)
Hey Sam-I-Am!!!
Yikes, that is a difficult one. Were you able to come up with a response?
- Ordinary Girl said...
I have to tell you again how absolutely fabulous I think you and your spouse's attitudes about encouraging your son to think. And that he's able to feel excited and happy about asking questions rather than embarrassed.
I know it can't be easy, but I think (you know, the woman who has no kids) you're doing a great job.
I wish I would have been encouraged similarly growing up.
- C. L. Hanson said...
Thanks O.G.!!!
We're kind of playing this by ear, so it's nice to see others agree we're doing okay. :D
- Beat Dad said...
We had similar conversations with my older son when he was six; the only difference being that his question were all about humans and did not stem from watching nature videos.
Now, I would guess that he knows more about human sexuality than the average American 12 y.o.
We are working on the ethics of sex and emotions now.
- C. L. Hanson said...
Hey Wayne!!!
That's fabulous!!! Keep me posted, and let's compare notes. :D
Mr C and I both laughed to tears over this one. In Nico's Attenborough English, it's even better. Mr C was especially admiring of the accuracy of the newt picture. Give Nico our compliments. :-)
- C. L. Hanson said...
Thanks Wry!!!
I hope we can get together again soon -- Nico is still talking about how cute your dogs are!!!
That conversation is priceless.
And the drawings are adorable. They remind me of the drawings the children I aupaired for in France used to make me (gotta love the French children's cursive!). Although their drawings were not nearly as scientific, I'm sure.
- C. L. Hanson said...
Thanks yrsuchariot!!!
It's true the handwriting they learn in school is pretty distinctive. This is one of the things that first impressed me about my (now) husband -- his perfect handwriting. And the fact that he'd take notes in French (in real time) of a lecture that was given in English....


text:
Join us at our upcoming PGDip/ MBA open day. To learn more about the programmes on offer as well as meet and interact with GIBS Admissions Office.
Please see event details below.
Seats are limited.
Should you require further information please contact Mpho Mashele.
There is currently a problem displaying related programmes, please contact support.
There is currently a problem displaying related events, please contact support.
For support please contact us.
We are processing your request, please be patient.


text:
Kobe Bryant has announced that this will be his final NBA season, and the fans have responded by voting him into the starting lineup of this year's All-Star game.
There are others more deserving, of course, but Bryant is the leading vote-getter because the fans want to see him play in the mid-season exhibition one last time. That bit of charity, however, is the last Bryant hopes to receive.
In an interview with Marc Spears of Yahoo Sports, Bryant said he hopes his final All-Star game will be similar to Michael Jordan's back in 2003, when guys competed against him instead of deferring to him as a way of saying thanks for a career full of greatness.
"One thing that Michael said was, 'Just because it's my last All-Star Game, I don't want you to come out there going soft on me,' " Bryant recently told Yahoo Sports. " 'I want you to play me how you would normally play me.' I was like, 'Mike, what do you know about me that would lead you to tell me that?' We both got a good laugh out of that.
"The thing I remember most was the competition. Those are the things that I will always cherish. Hopefully, they will come out and compete as always this year. Those are the things I will always carry with me. Just true competition."
The 2003 All-Star game was more competitive than most, as the West needed overtime to come away with a 10-point victory over the East. Jordan finished with 20 points on a game-high 27 shots, and it wouldn't be at all surprising to see Bryant go out in much the same way.
Send all complaints, compliments, and tips to email@example.com


text:
The basil in our fledgling vegie garden had started to flower, so it was time to give it a haircut to try to stop it from going to seed. Steve cut it back and we ended up with rather a lot of fresh basil leaves in need of a purpose.
My initial thought was a batch of pesto. After all basil = pesto, right? Well yes, but then I thought about it a bit more and decided not to make pesto. Not that I have anything against pesto, I love the stuff! It's just that basil has a lot more uses than that. To make it more versatile I decided to just mince the leaves in my mini processor and freeze the cubes.
So this
Became this
Which became this
Which could become this
Or this
Or something else entirely.
What would you do with it?


text:
Here's what I suggest to add rest to your homeschool:
Begin your school year earlier than usual, perhaps in July. (That part's not essential.)
Look at a calendar for the upcoming school year and mark your start date. Then plan 34 weeks of school (36 for high school), writing them on your calendar. (This is a plan, not a mandate, so use a pencil!)
Plan to teach 6 weeks at a time, then give yourself a 2-week break. Why 2 weeks?
- The first week is school catch-up: math lessons that need to be reinforced, books you didn't finish reading, hands-on projects you didn't complete. This is a relaxed time - but don't neglect the purpose. If you are all caught up, pursue any extras that didn't quite fit in your schedule – field trips, service/ministry opportunities, more projects, more books, other areas of interest.
- The second week is a true holiday from school work. Visit Grandma and Grandpa. Take a family vacation when sites aren't crowded. Enjoy a "staycation" -- fun time at places near home. Clean out the closet. Pack away summer clothes and take out winter clothes. Etc.
- Adjust (shorten) the six weeks as needed to fit holiday/vacation plans. You might take just one week off at Thanksgiving (it works well to schedule the whole week off) since Christmas break is so close.
- High schoolers are a bit different, since they are more independent. They need to complete 36 weeks and may need to factor in summer jobs. It might be best if they keep working full time during each first "catch-up" week, and only take a holiday during each "second week."


text:
NATO Tiger Meet NTM 1995 Turkey Air Force Balikesir Airbase Mini Tiger Meet Arctic Grey (Item number: #553733510)
Description View the complete description
Courrier / Shipping Livraison GRATUITE locale ou InternationaleFREE shipping anywhere in the worldEvaluations Recus / Feedbacks Voici quelques evaluations recus sur un autre site Here are some feedbacks that makes it all worthwhile. ---- Hi! Just wanted to let you know that my father was thrilled with...
Seller See the shop
- English (United Kingdom),
- French,
- Spanish


text:
SVSU Breast Cancer Survivor and Recognition Event
February 16, 2019
SVSU Athletics hosted the 11th annual breast cancer survivor reception and recognition event on February 16, 2019 in coordination with a home basketball double header contest during the Great Lakes Intercollegiate Athletic Conference's Pink Wave week. Forty-one breast cancer survivors and your families came to the campus of SVSU to celebrate a journey of courage, hope and faith.
Commemorative t-shirts and other miscellaneous promotional items were sold for a profit of $1,570 which was donated to Covenant Breast Health Center's CARE Fund. To date SVSU Athletics has raised just over $34,000 for regional community members in need of breast care services.
This event was made possible by the generous contributions of our Cardinal student-athlete volunteers and sponsors including Dr. Ernie and Leanne Balcueva and family, Catholic Federal Credit Union, Covenant Health Care and Mitchell Motorcoach. Additional support was provided by the Cardinal Deli, providing the reception for all survivors and volunteers.
Save the date for next year's event, as the 12th annual event is tentatively scheduled to be held on February 15, 2020. For more information or to register, contact the SVSU Athletics Community Engagement office at 989-964-2562 or e-mail us email@example.com
SVSU's contributions to the community members
2019 - $1,570
2018 - $2,102
2017 - $3,639
2016 - $2,700
2015 - $4,121
2014 - $3,588
2013 - $4,050
2012 - $3,092
2011 - $3,026
2010 - $3,093
2009 - $3,400
Total - $34,381
View photos from the 2019 event
View photos from the 2017 event
View photos from the 2016 event
View photos from the 2015 event


text:
CLEVELAND (AP) A public viewing will be held for a 12-year-old boy who was carrying a pellet gun when he was shot and killed by a Cleveland police officer.
The (Cleveland) Plain Dealer (http://bit.ly/1CuSfb6 ) reports that the viewing of Tamir Rice will be Sunday. His funeral service will be Wednesday at a Cleveland church.
The boy was shot Nov. 22 outside a recreation center by a rookie police officer responding to a 911 call about a male pointing a gun at others. The caller told the dispatcher it wasn"t clear if the gun was real or fake.
The fake gun lacked the orange safety indicator usually found on the barrel and was indistinguishable from a real firearm at a distance.
The boy"s death has sparked community demonstrations against the shooting.
Information from: The Plain Dealer, http://www.cleveland.com


text:
Extra Large Picnic Rug
Product Description
Extra Large Picnic Rug. This extra large foldaway picnic rug is a traditional piece of picnic equipment with a modern twist. The tartan pattern indicates quintessentially British picnicking while the padded plastic backing offers extra comfort while acting as a waterproof layer. The rug is easily hand washed and can be wiped clean with with a warm soapy cloth. This picnic rug is perfect for families and large groups of friends hoping to enjoy the perfect picnic on a sunny afternoon in the country or a day trip to the beach.
There are no reviews yet.