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Delicate bond ties pair of families in 2 countries
A Bay Area couple, after struggling to conceive a child for years, turn to a poor Indian surrogate desperate to improve her family's fate
Updated 8:31 am, Sunday, September 29, 2013
Anand, India -- Eyes pressed shut, jaw clenched, Manisha Parmar strained beneath the delivery room lights. The exquisite pain of this moment was familiar. But little else was.
Years ago, after her second baby was born, a doctor had performed a tubal ligation, ensuring she would never conceive again. But now, somehow, here she was, moments from giving birth. And for this child, everything was different.
Manisha's son and daughter had been born at home, a tiny, ramshackle dwelling in northwestern India. Only after both infants were kicking and crying was a health worker summoned to snip the umbilical cords.
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But here, at the Akanksha Infertility Clinic, nurses hovered, checking her vital signs, monitoring the progress of her labor. Nothing about this birth would be left to chance.
Manisha didn't quite understand how the clinic staff had made her pregnant again. She grasped their urgency, though.
For nine months, she had been paid more than she ever imagined to carry a baby created from the egg and sperm of an American couple. Now she was on the verge of delivering it, while the parents anxiously waited nearby.
Steve Kowalski wiped perspiration from his pale skin. Even beneath whirring fans, the heat of the 109-degree May afternoon was stifling. His wife, Jennifer Benito-Kowalski, paced the room, her short sundress setting her apart in a sea of floor-length saris.
For almost five years, the Kowalskis, both 40, had tried to have a child. Nothing had worked - not natural conception, not in vitro fertilization, not a host of risky, unsanctioned fertility treatments.
Desperate to create a child of their own, they had turned to India, to this clinic 9,000 miles from their San Carlos home. Its director, Dr. Nayna Patel, has connected hundreds of clients worldwide with Indian women willing to be surrogate mothers. Her clinic delivers babies at a fraction of the cost and with far less red tape than is possible in the United States.
Nine months before, the Kowalskis had crossed their fingers and sent Dr. Patel the last embryos remaining from their attempts at in vitro fertilization. Despite many phone calls and e-mails since, at times they scarcely believed that the faraway clinic really existed. But now, here they were, just moments from seeing their miracle child born.
For Manisha, this baby was a chance at another kind of miracle: to give her children a future they otherwise could not have. Some she knew considered surrogacy shameful, but it was a bargain that she had not hesitated to make.
"They need their child," she had said as her due date approached. "I need the money."
Deep in India's Hindu mythology, in a tale of the deity Krishna, is an early allusion to surrogacy.
Krishna was conceived in the womb of the goddess Devaki, but a wicked cousin wished the child killed, fearing a prophecy that the son would murder him. So Devaki placed Krishna in another goddess to save him, and a different child was killed. The sacrifice, the moral goes, enabled the birth of something positive.
Today, commercial surrogacy in India has moved far beyond myth. All but unregulated by the national government, it's become a booming industry that attracts thousands of foreign clients and generates millions of dollars annually. Scant official data makes it difficult to know exactly how big a role it plays in the country's flourishing medical tourism sector, which was estimated to be worth $2 billion last year.
For Manisha, the origins of the child she carried were only slightly less mystical than Krishna's. With just a third-grade education, she didn't understand the science behind her pregnancy. "The baby happened because of medicine," she said. "It's all medication."
In many ways, she was a typical Indian surrogate - lower working class, married, uneducated, wanting better than the low-paying work she'd always done.
Manisha, 29, and her husband, Raman Parmar, 38, a flour mill worker, are Vankars, a low-ranking class in the Hindu caste system. While no longer as rigid as it once was, this system still shapes the statuses and occupations of many in India, especially the working poor.
Born in Tarapur, a small city on the country's western edge, Manisha was the only child of farmers who died when she was very young. A decade ago, two of her uncles arranged her marriage to Raman. She moved to Khambhat, the seaside city where he was raised, and into a modest dwelling: two rooms, a kitchen with no running water, a single mattress. The narrow space was one within a long complex housing other members of his family.
Faded colonial landmarks recall the significance of the city of 80,000 under British rule, when it was known as Cambay. Now, goats and cows graze in fields littered with broken glass and excrement. In the summer heat, dogs seek refuge in puddles of sewage. Families venture outside their wooden shanties in search of a breeze, but the air, thick with dust, offers little relief.
Daily life for Manisha involved cleaning her home at dawn, then going into the fields to tend rice, wheat and millet under the midday sun. After a sip of chai, she would cook dinner for Raman and their son, Tanvay, 8, and daughter, Urvashi, 3.
That routine had been upended the summer before, when ferocious monsoons hammered down on Khambhat. Rain battered the Parmars' roof and partially collapsed a brick wall. Worried their house might fall in, the family rented another nearby. But on Raman's monthly pay of 3,000 rupees, less than $50, it was a struggle.
It was then that two women, one of them Raman's cousin, approached Manisha. Both had been surrogates at the Akanksha clinic. They explained what she could earn there - enough not only to fix the house, but to afford whatever else the family might need.
"If you want your life to improve," the cousin told her, "come with me."
For years, children weren't part of Steve and Jennifer Kowalski's plan. Two cats seemed plenty to handle.
Just months after they met and began dating in 2001, they moved into an apartment in San Francisco and spent most weekends exploring the city's restaurants and nightclubs. Outgoing Jennifer, a public relations professional for an environmental nonprofit, greeted friends with hugs and always looked ready for a social event in her fashionable clothes. Steve, an urban planner for the city of Fremont, was more reserved, but had a wide smile and an animated way of storytelling.
The pair found common ground in their Bay Area roots. Philippines-born, she was raised in Hayward; he grew up in Sunnyvale. Their shared pleasures ranged from partying late into the night to watching movies at home.
Even when they married in 2006 and left their city loft for a condo in San Carlos, a baby wasn't in the picture. But Jennifer's younger sister suspected that would change.
"I could tell she wanted kids," Lourdes Benito-Goodall said. "As a woman, you can kind of tell who's going to have kids and who's not."
Her hunch was right. As friends and relatives started families and baby showers crowded the calendar, Jennifer, then Steve, began to sense a void the cats couldn't fill. In 2008, as Jennifer turned 35, they decided it was time.
No one they knew had experienced problems getting pregnant, so they expected the same. But years passed without Jennifer conceiving. She began to hunt for any medical option that might change their luck.
She went through 20 rounds of intrauterine insemination, using a catheter to place Steve's sperm in her uterus. She underwent two cycles of in vitro fertilization, doctors implanting fertilized eggs in her uterus, but each try ended unsuccessfully. She tried acupuncture to boost her fertility.
"Some people just get to have sex," Steve would say with a wry laugh. "It's not fair."
Frustration turned to desperation. At a nontraditional clinic in Los Gatos, the doctors recommended a controversial therapy not sanctioned in the United States. It involved injecting Jennifer with Steve's white blood cells. Her immune system, the doctors advised, would stop seeing his cells as foreign and improve the likelihood of a pregnancy.
Five times over six months, the Kowalskis traveled to a clinic in a Mexican border town for treatments. But the only visible changes to Jennifer's body were swollen arms and red welts.
The time and money spent were adding up: four years, almost $30,000. They considered adopting but, both nearing 40, they worried the process could drag on for years. And both yearned for a baby who shared their genes.
The only alternative left was for another woman to carry their child. As she'd done with every other possibility, Jennifer began diligently researching commercial surrogacy, only to find that the financial and legal obstacles were extraordinary. In the United States, only a handful of states had clear laws governing the practice. Where things were legally sanctioned, the price - as much as $150,000 - was beyond their means.
Then Jennifer discovered another option: a medical center where a surrogate would cost about $20,000. The Akanksha Infertility Clinic was in India, in a city she'd never heard of. But the Internet turned up dozens of testimonials from clients. The head clinician had appeared on "The Oprah Winfrey Show" in 2007. Still, the Kowalskis were dubious about trusting a clinic a world away.
Then, in a doctor's office, Jennifer ran into a childhood friend who'd become a nurse. The woman said her sister's son had been born to a surrogate at the same clinic. Maybe this improbable opportunity was meant to be.
The fact that the surrogates were paid a fee that, by Indian standards, was substantial reinforced the Kowalskis' decision to go ahead.
"I feel like we're helping each other," Jennifer said. "I'll be eternally indebted to her for helping us with our family, and in turn, we're helping her."
Late in the summer of 2012, Dr. Patel embedded two of their four embryos in Manisha's uterus. In September, an e-mail arrived: Their surrogate was pregnant.
Of India's 1.2 billion people, 70 percent live on less than $2 a day. It's estimated that only 23 percent of its 587 million girls and women work, many toiling in low-paying, physically intensive jobs. Health and prenatal care for most poor women are minimal at best. More newborns die on their first day of life in India than in any other country.
At the Akanksha clinic in Anand, a city of 200,000 an hour and a half northeast of Khambhat, a surrogate who successfully gives birth earns the equivalent of at least $7,500. Twins bring an extra $1,500 to $2,000. It is a life-changing sum.
The opportunity was a godsend for the Parmars. Still, they revealed their plan to few. For Manisha to carry a child not her own, to sell the use of her body, was shameful in many of their relatives' eyes. So they told them she was leaving for a while to work in a factory or a home for the elderly.
In fact, she would wait out her pregnancy with about 80 other surrogates in the clinic's dormitories on the outskirts of Anand - a requirement, Dr. Patel says, that ensures their surroundings are secure and sanitary.
For the mothers-to-be, life was pleasant if monotonous. Nurses kept close tabs on the women, who lived four to six to a room. At sunrise, they awoke on narrow beds and ate breakfast. With the afternoon came lunch, milk and snacks. Sleep followed dinner. Usually there were vitamins or injections to take. As they awaited their due dates, the surrogates bonded over television and gossip, or took classes in trades like hair-cutting and nail-painting.
The women could leave to visit home only once or twice. So Raman traveled to see Manisha every few weekends. Sometimes he brought their children along, occasionally leaving them in her care when he had to work.
During their final trimesters, the women move from their dorms into the main clinic in the center of town. The nondescript, three-story concrete structure hardly looks like a medical tourism hot spot. But since Dr. Patel began her surrogacy service in 2004, about 500 women have given birth to more than 600 babies. These days, births occur at a steady pace, eight to 10 each month.
More than a quarter of Akanksha's clients live in India. The rest come from the United States, the United Kingdom, Japan and other countries where commercial surrogacy is illegal or legally complicated.
Akanksha is just one of India's 150 known fertility clinics, about 60 percent of which offer commercial surrogacy. In 2009, the number of reported surrogate pregnancies totaled at least 400, a fourfold increase from 2007, according to the latest data available from the Indian Society for Assisted Reproduction. Such numbers make India one of the leading destinations for commercial surrogacy, a category that includes Panama, Thailand, Ukraine and other countries where it can be cheaply and easily done.
That status could be threatened by efforts now under way. As part of a debate over surrogacy regulations, a government agency proposed banning all foreign clients this summer, according to India news reports. Separate rules adopted late last year effectively block foreign customers who are gay, single or married for fewer than two years.
But for now, a clinic like Dr. Patel's has more business than it can handle. At any time, 100 pairs of aspiring parents are on its waiting list for a surrogate.
As her belly swelled, Manisha kept busy learning to stitch and to sign her name in Gujarati, the regional language. Having left school so early, she could barely read or write. Nor did she understand any English, the language of her surrogacy contract. She had no idea, for example, that she would have no say if the parents chose to have her abort the child.
All she knew was that she had left home with a purpose. In return for carrying the hopes of strangers, she was fed, rested and well paid.
"What problems can I have?" she asked.
As working professionals given to meticulous organizing, Steve and Jennifer were used to preparing to-do lists. But planning for their baby was the ultimate test.
They would stay almost a month in India, they decided, to ensure they'd be there for the birth and have enough time to deal with the paperwork required to prove the baby was theirs. Not to mention begin learning to be parents.
They synced lists of tasks on their phones, took parenting classes, read books and sought friends' advice. As their departure date neared, Steve froze a big batch of soup so they wouldn't have to cook when they returned. Jennifer permed the dark hair she normally spent a half hour curling every day.
But there were questions the travel guides and baby books failed to answer. Could India properly dispose of compostable diapers? Were gifts for a surrogate appropriate? How would they calm a shrieking baby during the 24-hour trip home?
They wouldn't need to do everything alone. Steve's 66-year-old mother, Sue Kowalski, a retired travel agent who had visited India before, would join them. And Dr. Patel told them her husband would guide them through the process, essentially serving as an interpreter.
Three days before takeoff, Jennifer found herself wandering the labyrinthine aisles of a Babies R Us store in Redwood City. Her normally tidy condo was already brimming with onesies, swaddles, diapers, bottles and wipes, but she was sure she needed more. Trying to pack for a place she'd never been, for someone not yet born, was driving her crazy.
She made her way to a wall of baby formula - the one item she'd hoped not to need.
For six months, she'd been taking a medication called domperidone. Used in several countries to treat gastric disorders, one of its side effects is enhancing breast-milk production. It is not approved for prescription use in the United States, however, and the federal Food and Drug Administration has warned breast-feeding women against using it, citing possible health risks to their infants.
But Jennifer wanted to breast-feed her baby and found several studies that convinced her the drug is usually safe in small doses. She had it shipped from Mexico and excitedly began taking it. At best, though, she was producing only a few ounces a day.
Once again, she felt like her body had failed her. She was already behind at becoming a mother - what if she never caught up?
"I want to be able to bond with my baby," she said. "I want to be able to give it something, a little part of me."
She didn't call the baby "him" or "her." Its gender wouldn't be revealed until the birth. India prohibits revealing the sex of a child before birth to discourage abortions of girls in a country that prizes boys.
Jennifer leaned toward wanting a boy, recalling her challenging years as a teenage girl. But as she and Steve built a crib and hung a mobile in their new nursery, they dressed the room in neutral shades of beige and white.
They could never prepare enough to be parents. But by the time they boarded the plane for India, all that was left to do was show up. And to hope that at the end of their journey, the missing piece of their family would be there.
India burst into view through the windows of a sport utility vehicle speeding down a dark highway at 4 in the morning.
Even at that hour, any beginning of a breeze died in the 90-degree heat. The dusty air draped a gauzy curtain over the moon, smearing its light across the sky.
After 24 hours in transit, they had landed at the regional airport in Ahmadabad. Now, jet-lagged but fueled by adrenaline, they had another hour-long ride to Anand, where they would meet Dr. Patel and, they hoped, the young woman carrying their child.
Perhaps it was the mix of weariness and anxiety, or the sense of dislocation in this strange new place, but even now, so close to the realization of their dream, the Kowalskis felt uneasy.
Despite the reputation Dr. Patel had built, they had found her less than forthcoming. On the phone over the past nine months, she had been curt and hard to understand through her accent. She took days to reply to e-mails, then offered the briefest of responses even to complex questions.
Most recently, her communication about the baby's delivery date had been confusing. Once she told them the birth would be induced at between 38 and 40 weeks. Other times, the target date was 37 weeks. Even her plan to induce did not seem entirely certain.
As the car hurtled past factories, dirt lots, dark hotels, shacks and toll takers asleep in their booths, Jennifer tried to think positively. Her words, though, seemed to betray her concerns.
"Gosh, we're so close to Dr. Patel," she said, gazing at the road ahead. "It doesn't feel real."
Hours later, still sleepless, the Kowalskis climbed into a van for another ride, this one from their hotel to the clinic.
In the brilliant sunlight, as sweat dripped down their faces, they marveled at the kinetic energy of the streets. Wandering cows rubbed shoulders with camels and goats. Wooden shanties pressed up against fruit stands. Motorcycles raced auto rickshaws, known as tuk-tuks, through dusty avenues with no stoplights.
Their driver swung onto a side street, and Jennifer gasped as a building with a bleached peach facade came into view: the clinic.
In a daze, the Kowalskis wandered inside past dozens of pregnant women in colorful saris, obstetric patients waiting to see Dr. Patel for checkups. The women stared at tall, white Steve and at Jennifer, whose dress stopped at her knees.
In a cool waiting room reserved for the clinic's surrogacy clients, the Kowalskis were greeted by a genial, heavyset man. This was Dr. Patel's husband, Dr. Hitesh Patel, a nonpracticing orthopedic surgeon. As client liaison, he would help them with all the paperwork ahead, he explained.
The weight of the moment hit Jennifer all at once. "Are you crying already?" her mother-in-law asked. She nodded, tears in her eyes.
The waiting room door opened again. In stepped a petite, very pregnant woman. Her black hair was swept into a bun; her skin was the shade of cinnamon. A nose stud, a sign of marriage, was her only jewelry. She smiled shyly at Jennifer as a little girl at her side squeezed her hand.
No introduction was needed. In the unlikeliest, most intimate of ways, these women already knew each other.
"Hi," Jennifer said, her heart pounding. Instinctively, she reached out to hug the woman carrying her child. "How do you feel? Tired? OK?"
Manisha smiled blankly until Hitesh interpreted. "She has no problem. Full term like normal," he said. "Any day could be a good day. So you arrive at the right time."
"I thought Dr. Patel was going to induce labor," Jennifer said.
"I don't know," Hitesh replied with a sheepish smile.
With Manisha's consent, Jennifer ran a hand over her round belly. The largeness of it was stunning, she thought. Then again, this child had her 6-foot-1 husband's genes.
A bit later, the Kowalskis would look on as a technician, careful to mask the baby's gender, performed an ultrasound scan of Manisha's womb. They had seen blurry ultrasound pictures of the infant sent by e-mail. But there on the screen was a live being.
"There's a nose," Steve said. "Lips. There's a mouth."
"The heart of the baby," the technician said, motioning to a throbbing, walnut-size blob.
Jennifer leaned in, eyes wide. "Wow. That's amazing."
In a glittering sari, pearl necklace and diamond earrings, Dr. Patel fielded the people and papers invading her stuffy office like a general directing combat. Patients came and went, nurses brandished charts to be read and signed, the phone rang ceaselessly. The 53-year-old obstetrician methodically addressed each person for not a second longer than necessary.
But when the Kowalskis entered during a rare pause, her frazzled face broke into a smile.
"Ah, Jennifer!" she said, as the women embraced. "First I met your baby, then I met you!" The doctor who'd been so short with them from afar seemed genuinely happy to meet them.
In 15 years at Akanksha, Dr. Patel has met hundreds of eager parents-to-be. Before her clinic took up surrogacy in 2004, it was among the first in the region to offer egg and sperm donation, in vitro fertilization and other fertility services.
The doctor does not discuss her profits, but business is clearly good. The Patels are building a new, 100,000-square-foot facility in Anand. This enormous headquarters will be a one-stop location, with lodging for clients and surrogates atop spacious delivery rooms and offices.
The clinic's success has helped turn Anand, long a hub for dairy production, into something of a baby industry town. Visiting customers fill hotels, restaurants and souvenir shops. Those in need of onesies and bottles will find two floors' worth at a nearby store.
After greeting Steve and Jennifer, Dr. Patel quickly offered a surprising piece of news.
"She has gone into spontaneous labor right now," she said, as Manisha stood quietly nearby. "She has got night contractions also. She is just dilated one finger. We may induce her tomorrow if she doesn't go into spontaneous labor. And by tomorrow, she should deliver in the afternoon."
As always, Dr. Patel's explanation was ambiguous. But one thing was not: Tomorrow! They had arrived just in time.
Sue Kowalski stepped toward Manisha. She'd been studying her language, Gujarati, for this very moment.
"We are all very grateful to you," she told her. "From now on, my son's family will be complete. How can we ever thank you?"
Manisha smiled. "Why would you thank me?"
Tomorrow. Their new life would begin then, Steve and Jennifer thought as they returned to their hotel. A life full of "firsts": The first time holding their child, feeding it, changing its diaper.
But also "lasts." No more slipping away to the gym on a whim. No more quiet dinners alone. And farewell to a full night's sleep for a good long while.
They tried to relax. It should have been easy at the Madhubhan Resort and Spa, an opulent hotel on Anand's outskirts. Exotic flowers, elaborate fountains and palm trees adorn its sprawling 22 acres. It offers four restaurants, two pools, a karaoke lounge, daily yoga classes, a luxury spa. In a country where the monthly per capita income is $87, one night there costs $100.
The resort, recommended by Dr. Patel, serves as a support center for her clients. Here, Jennifer and Steve met women in the process of retrieving their eggs and beginning surrogacy. Some, like them, were awaiting births. Others were staying weeks longer than anticipated because of health or legal complications. Still others had tried for twice as long as the Kowalskis had to conceive a child.
Meeting each other was a relief. Thousands of miles from their homes, the couples could bond over tales of wearying medical treatments. Everything from breast-feeding tips to restaurant recommendations was swapped.
Still, their shared fate engendered, to varying degrees, a shared feeling of shame. An especially heavy burden seemed to weigh on the women, who felt their bodies had betrayed them. Conceiving was so maddeningly easy for everyone else, but they'd had to seek out this far-off place. Some couples planned to bring their new children home without explaining that a surrogate or egg donor had helped bring it to life.
At dinner, Jennifer and Steve's excitement about the next day was amplified by amazement over their timing. What if Manisha had gone into labor while they'd been en route, or a week earlier?
"We landed today, we met her today, she went into spontaneous labor today," Jennifer said, still not quite believing it.
And Dr. Patel had continued to be confusing about details. Come to the clinic around 11 a.m., she'd said. But induction would begin at 9. And natural labor could happen anytime before that, she'd advised, not explaining why she might induce the surrogate if she was on track to a natural delivery.
"I can never tell with Dr. Patel," Jennifer griped. "Especially when you're in a country to pick up your first baby - throw us a bone!"
Raman Parmar had been by his wife's side at the births of their two children. Now, on a bright, hot morning, he waited nearby as she prepared to deliver someone else's baby.
On the top floor of the clinic, he played with Tanvay and Urvashi. Looking after them had been difficult in Manisha's absence. As a day laborer, he had to show up for work or lose pay. But his parents were dead, and relatives couldn't always babysit.
Sometimes, he had to leave the children alone at home, and he cried because they were still so little. He brought them with him often when he visited Manisha, though he worried they would come to understand just what their mother was doing.
"We feel a little ashamed about it," he admitted.
Still, they were at peace with their choice, he said. "I had a lot of financial problems. I had to bring her here."
Raman trusted Dr. Patel. They couldn't afford a doctor back home, yet here, nurses doted on his wife. Even so, he worried about her health. Before she came to the clinic, she had never swallowed a pill or taken an injection. Those were now routine.
But in a few hours, he thought, all the worrying would be done.
"The only thing I can think about is for her to come back home."
In a waiting area downstairs from the clinic's delivery room, Steve and Jennifer sat and fretted. Noon passed, then 1.
Fatigue and frayed nerves sparked arguments over seemingly minor issues. Who should stay up with the baby when? How much breast milk should they be ready to receive? Was a swaddle really needed in this 100-degree heat?
Jennifer felt hurt that Steve sometimes disregarded her opinions, despite her hours of research. Her usually calm husband couldn't make peace with the constant uncertainty. Never, he resolved, would they do this again.
Just then, a group of nurses erupted in shouts.
The Kowalskis vaulted upstairs to a small anteroom outside the delivery room, where Raman and his daughter stood waiting.
The door cracked open just enough for Dr. Patel to poke out her head. Vaginal delivery wasn't working, she announced. Manisha needed a cesarean section. Then she vanished, leaving the stunned Kowalskis to pray this wasn't bad news.
Moments past 1:40 p.m., the answer came. Out ran a nurse, arms waving.
"Jennifer, congratulations! Baby boy!"
Joyous relief exploded in the tiny room.
"It's a boy!" Steve cried, hugging his wife to his chest. Sue, a grandmother for the fifth time, cheered.
"We've been waiting so long," Jennifer managed to say between sobs. "Now we can say 'him' instead of 'it.' "
"You're outnumbered!" Steve teased her. He turned to shake Raman's hand.
The boy - their boy - was carried out in an attendant's arms. They marveled as he bawled. Black hair. Round cheeks. Delicate fingers and toes, almost too delicate. Yet his dark eyes and beige skin seemed deeply familiar.
"Oh my God, oh my God!" Jennifer said, peering at his scrunched-up face. "It's a little Steve! Hi! Don't cry. It's OK!"
As if on command, the baby fell quiet. "Can I hold him?" Jennifer asked timidly.
And for a moment, she did. But then a nurse's assistant dashed into the room, snatched the newborn and rushed down the stairs.
Bewildered, the couple charged after her. "Where are we going?" Jennifer cried.
Outside the clinic was a white sedan. The woman with the baby jumped in; another slid behind the wheel. The Kowalskis managed to hustle in with them just as the car bolted into the street.
In the back seat, Jennifer clutched her wailing child. "I'm sorry!" she pleaded, trying to calm him, to calm herself.
Their escorts offered no explanation, at least none the frightened new parents could understand.
Almost as quickly as it had left, the car screeched to a halt two blocks away.
Into a squat concrete building, through a sea of patients and up the stairs, the nurses led Jennifer into a room with her new child. Steve was left in the hall to peer through the window.
This, it turned out, was the Apara Nursing Home, a hospital whose facilities included a neonatal intensive care unit. The nurses had rushed the Kowalskis' baby here to join rows of other squirming newborns in incubators.
Later, his parents would learn that this was routine. Akanksha lacked a nursery of its own, so it sent every newborn to another hospital after birth. There was no need for alarm. Their son - 7 pounds, 2 ounces and by all appearances healthy - would merely stay overnight to be monitored and released the next day.
It was a detail Dr. Patel and her husband had failed to mention. It did not seem to occur to them that the experience might terrify them.
The chaos of the day had exceeded the Kowalskis' wildest imaginations. But now, in the NICU, her new son safe, Jennifer began to relax.
Having held few newborns, she worried about harming him. Yet cradling him against her bosom felt like second nature.
Next was Steve. He picked up his son, cooed in his ear. Jennifer watched as a smile spread over his face.
They would have to wait one more day to really be together. But this first glimpse of parenthood was beautiful.
Before they left him for the night, there was one more thing to do. He needed a name.
It would be a name Steve had liked since he was a boy, one that echoed the "K" of his last name. He was Kyle, they decided.
For the first time, Kyle's parents let themselves dream out loud about his future. Steve wondered if his son would take up soccer or baseball, his own childhood passions.
"Everything's going to make me nervous," Jennifer said. "Anything that involves sports."
"Soccer's not a contact sport."
"No football. No hockey. Violin's good. Violin lessons would be great, or flute ..."
"Cricket?" Steve joked.
"Cricket," Jennifer agreed. And for the first time in hours, they laughed with relief.
On a mattress in her room at the clinic, Manisha struggled through the early stages of recovery. Even eating and sitting hurt, thanks to the incision on her abdomen.
Her cesarean section, Dr. Patel said, had been a last resort when she determined the baby was too big to deliver vaginally. But the surgical nurse who had fetched Manisha from her room two hours before the birth, and another who helped prepare the delivery room, both said they were readying her for surgery from the start.
Manisha trusted the doctor's judgment. After all, her baby was the 649th born to a surrogate at the clinic, and Dr. Patel had delivered virtually every one. But unknown to Manisha and the Kowalskis, close to three-fourths of them had been delivered by cesarean, an extremely high rate.
Dr. Patel insists she does each C-section with the infant's safety the foremost concern, and never for the sake of convenience. Her clinic's high rate, she says, is due to many factors: complications caused by in vitro fertilization, including higher numbers of twins and triplets; and the fact that many of her surrogates have multiple pregnancies, and usually can't have a regular delivery if their first was by C-section.
But there can be consequences for the surrogates. Several women who'd had babies delivered by C-section at Akanksha said it had caused lingering pain that kept them from resuming other work they'd done, such as housekeeping.
Other risks could come down the road, experts say, if a surrogate became pregnant with her own child and the type of medical care offered at Akanksha was not available.
It is one of the many downfalls, critics say, of India's dearth of surrogacy regulations, which essentially have allowed physicians such as Dr. Patel to operate by their own rules.
Dr. Patel counters that most of her surrogates are done having offspring of their own. The clinic covers the cost of treatment for any postpartum complications, she said, and even pays for educational materials and some scholarships for the surrogates' own children. Her new clinic, she says, will employ former surrogates as short-term nannies and their husbands as security guards.
The clinic's largess was seductive. Even as Manisha dealt with the pain from Kyle's birth, she pondered being a surrogate again. Her husband was opposed. But the notion was hard to dismiss.
"Even if we worked for three years continuously," she said later, "we will never earn this much money."
As she healed, Manisha had few visitors. But one morning, two neighbors from Khambhat stopped by. These were the women who had persuaded her to become a surrogate.
Vimla Parmar, 33, was not shy about her own past as a two-time surrogate. It was an "honorable profession," she said, even though some of her neighbors accused her of selling children.
"If you don't want to talk to me, don't talk to me," she said. "I'm doing this for my children. If I don't have money, if you are not going to help me, then I have to find my own way out."
Before surrogacy, Vimla had cleaned houses and harvested crops. With her two pregnancies at the clinic, she had earned enough to buy a plot of land and begin building a house. Now she worked as a nanny for the clinic's newborns.
"When I met Dr. Nayna Patel, my life was completely changed," she said. "Dr. Nayna Patel is like god to me."
Manisha and Raman always knew her surrogacy would not please his family, so they tried to explain her long absence with a story about her working at a factory or nursing home. That tale unraveled when she visited home about halfway through her pregnancy to open a bank account for her clinic payments.
With one look at the curve of her stomach, cousin-in-law Nairuben Parmar, 40, had understood. Surrogacy, she acknowledged, could help people who wanted children. Other women from the neighborhood had done it. But no woman from her family would go near Dr. Patel's clinic.
Her daughter Dipika, a few years younger than Manisha, was blunt: "Good girls from good homes don't do that."
The Kowalskis had anticipated many firsts as parents. But the new infant brought one they hadn't fully appreciated: First reality check.
Within days, a glazed look came over both parents. They were used to working hard, but this job consumed them like no other. Time blurred. They slept four hours the first night. Or was it five, or three? It was hard to keep track. Kyle cried in his crib, so they nestled him between them instead. When he awoke, so did they.
Despite its many comforts, their hotel made parental chores more complicated. There was no microwave or dishwasher to sterilize bottles, no washer-dryer to clean swaddles and blankets. Even the tap water was unsafe to drink.
Still, they began to settle into a routine. Steve ran most errands, venturing to the store for baby supplies. Jennifer handled the feeding and rocking, rarely letting go of her son for more than a few minutes. Occasionally they left the hotel to visit a pediatrician assigned to them by Dr. Patel. She gave Kyle immunization shots, and offered feeding and parenting advice.
Every day, Jennifer or Steve stopped by to see Manisha. They would ask how she was doing and collect the breast milk she faithfully pumped for the new baby.
Recovery was painful. For days, Manisha grimaced each time she eased herself upright, then hobbled more than walked. Despite her discomfort, there were times she had to look after her children when her husband was at work. Her daughter kept asking: Mother, where is my little brother?
Four days after he was born, the Kowalskis brought Kyle with them. Manisha broke into a grin as Jennifer placed him in her arms.
They also brought Manisha gifts they hoped would convey their gratitude: a bright pink sari, kitchen tools for mixing and grinding food, a thick wad of rupees. Manisha looked surprised, but smiled as she accepted them.
Rocking Kyle back and forth, Manisha couldn't help but feel that he was as much hers as theirs. "But I have to give it away," she reminded herself later. "I can't keep it."
On their last morning in Anand, the Kowalskis went to the clinic to say goodbye.
This time, Manisha was the one bearing gifts: enough breast milk to fill up a whole bottle and part of another, baby clothes and a tiny silver bracelet.
Jennifer's eyes watered as she held the wristlet, a customary gift for newborns in India. Steve's eyes were bright with tears, too.
"This is like love for the baby," Manisha said later. It symbolized the connection between her and Kyle, she said, one that would remain even after he was gone.
The Kowalskis had already discussed bringing Kyle back to India someday, to show him how he had come into the world. But as they stood to leave, they knew there was a good chance they would never return.
"I hope you can build up your house before the monsoons," Steve said. Tears streamed down Jennifer's face as she picked up Kyle to leave. "Want to say bye to the baby?"
As they left, both said the only words they could manage in the only language they knew: Thank you.
They had survived a week of parenthood. Now the Kowalskis faced a new test: Two weeks of navigating government bureaucracies.
First came a trip to the U.S Embassy in Mumbai. A $600 DNA test certified Kyle as their biological son, and for an extra $300, the results were done in a day. To get the baby a passport and proof of citizenship, they provided birth certificates, a marriage license, passports, doctor reports and proof of residence.
They would also need to return to Anand for the local police to approve their exit visas. Hitesh Patel had arranged for a man to guide them through the process. It would add another day, they figured, but then they could fly home the next afternoon.
But Hitesh's contact, who spoke English, laid out a change of plans. Arrange for a later flight, he told them. Give me your travel and birth documents - including your passports - and $250. And you will need to travel again, to another city two hours away.
In the lobby of their hotel after the meeting, Jennifer broke down sobbing. Why, just once, couldn't something be straightforward?
But as they had done so many times, Steve said, "We just ended up going with it. Because what else are you going to do?"
The next morning, a car pulled up. The driver was a young man with no knowledge of English and a questionable command of the wheel. With supplies for three feedings and as many diaper changes, Jennifer and Steve climbed in with Kyle. Their destination was Gandhinagar, capital of the state of Gujarat, 60 miles away.
The driver took them to a row of identical-looking government buildings. Inside, people crowded every hall and doorway, pushing to keep their spots in line. A few English speakers assured the bewildered Kowalskis they were in the right place.
They followed the driver to what turned out to be a foreign affairs agency. He'd been given the documents they'd surrendered the day before, and now he presented them to a clerk. Another worker later handed back the bundle, along with the coveted exit visas. A few hours later, back in Anand, their papers were approved without incident.
But their excursion still wasn't over. They would have to wait in their Anand hotel until the end of the day to fly to Mumbai, a flight delayed because of torrential rains. Once in Mumbai again, it would be two days more before they could at last head back to San Francisco.
For now, drained and defeated, they collapsed in their room. They decided to wash the baby's bottles one last time, a simple task to soothe their nerves. Just then, Kyle began to wail.
Eleven days after giving birth, Manisha walked out of the Akanksha clinic with her husband and children. The world outside the clinic was brighter and busier than she remembered.
For months, she'd worn the same three or four maternity dresses. Going home called for her best outfit: a sparkling red and turquoise sari, a gold necklace, gold earrings.
Having cashed their last check from the clinic, the couple felt flush. The kids got toys, and they decided to splurge on a tuk-tuk instead of a rickety train or crowded bus for the two-hour ride.
Manisha gripped the seat as the tiny vehicle bumped past rows of brown fields that, after the rains, would blossom into lush pastures of wheat and tobacco. She couldn't wait to be home, though she worried about how her relatives might greet her. They'll think what they're going to think, she decided.
The sun was low when they reached Khambhat. Shielding her head with her sari, Manisha walked to the door she'd exited nine months before and gingerly opened it.
It was much as she had left it. Cracked pink-and-brown concrete walls punctuated with exposed brick. Dangling wires, a single lightbulb. A single twin-size mattress for four people. Piles of clothing in one dusty corner, vessels and dishes in another. A kitchen with neither running water nor a refrigerator.
Still, some things had changed. With the money she'd earned, Raman had built a pair of stalls behind the house: one with a toilet, essentially a hole in the ground, and a second for a shower. The home's exterior, once mud and brick, was now covered by concrete. The roof, too, was a sheet of concrete, soon to be covered by iron and aluminum shingles. In one corner of the ceiling, a hole showed the sky. There, a staircase would lead to a small second story yet to be built.
Sitting on her bed, Manisha felt peaceful. There was so much she could now do to fix up her home, so much money she could set aside for her children's schooling. Maybe she would buy Raman a tuk-tuk, so he could be his own boss.
A young nephew came by. "Where were you?" the boy asked as he embraced her. She dodged his question. "You don't know where I was?"
For hours, he was her lone visitor. A dozen relatives were at home in the complex but stayed away. Two older women glanced inside without saying a word.
Soon Manisha pulled off her fancy sari, exchanging it for a plainer one. Too hot, she said.
It was a sad, but not surprising, reception. Surely the relatives were jealous of their money, Manisha thought. She'd hoped for better, but for now, it didn't matter. There was work to do.
The Parmars began to sweep. Their brooms kicked dust into the sunbeams framed by the doorway, illuminating the work that lay ahead. Outside, the children laughed and chased each other. The call of a Muslim prayer drifted from a mosque on a hot breeze. This was home.
After 24 days in India, and a flight that at times felt endless, the Kowalskis returned home to the hugs and cheers of excited family members at San Francisco International Airport. Jennifer's parents, sister, brother-in-law and niece greeted them, and the new family returned to San Carlos for a welcome-home party.
They sighed with relief at the sight of the simple comforts they'd missed - their bed, the dishwasher, clean water.
Over the next few months, life would settle into a new kind of normal. Their home filled up with signs of its newest occupant. Towels monogrammed with Kyle's name hung in the bathroom. Toys and strollers littered the living room.
On maternity leave from work for the summer, Jennifer fell quickly into the rhythm of motherhood. Errands, play time, naps, feeding and diaper changes blurred the lines between days. The outside world seemed far away. Steve, who went back to work, would come home before dinner in time to play with Kyle and put him to bed.
The little boy grew ever bigger. At 3 months, he weighed a hefty 16 pounds, with cherubic cheeks and a long torso. He slept more soundly at night - except when he didn't. Pained at the sound of his cries, the parents often tucked him between them in bed. "It breaks your heart," Steve said.
There were other challenges, too. Jennifer's breast-milk medication had stopped working, so she'd tried to obtain breast milk elsewhere. First she turned to a milk bank, but its supply was reserved for babies in critical condition. She bought milk from a local mother she found online, but Kyle disliked it. Reluctantly, she settled for feeding him formula.
She got to know other new mothers in the area, who happily shared tips on feeding and kid-friendly activities. When they complained about their post-pregnancy bodies, though, she couldn't help but feel a little guilty about being unable to commiserate.
Her return to work also grew nearer. Neither she nor Steve was happy that both would be spending long hours away from their son, but felt fortunate that family members and a friend had offered to help care for him.
Three months after leaving India, they still occasionally e-mailed with Dr. Patel. They seemed to have made peace with her confusing ways. "After having been there and seeing it, now you understand why everything's so curt and it feels cold," Steve said. "They're so busy, and it's just so chaotic."
In fact, Jennifer's only real regret about the experience was that they hadn't turned to the clinic sooner. Dr. Patel's services and the trip had ended up costing $25,000, which now looked like a bargain next to all those years of IVF rounds and other treatments. Why, she wondered, had she convinced herself they would work if she just kept trying?
But little moments reminded them that things had worked out for the best. Like their playful debate about which of them Kyle resembled more. Or when he started to recognize them. The first time he smiled at them.
A friend had told Steve that such moments would make the sleepless nights worth it. Steve had scoffed. "And sure enough," he said, "when he did smile, it just totally melts your heart."
"They always say you'll never love someone as much, and it's so true," Jennifer said. "I thought it was a cliche. But, oh my God, I love that little boy so much."
Someday, when their little boy grows up, they say, they will pull out the scrapbook they've made and explain everything. About India. About Manisha, the woman who gave birth to him. They'll encourage him to go there if he wants. And maybe they'll go with him.
Someday. For now, just two pictures on the walls tell his story. Two family portraits. One of Jennifer, Steve and Kyle. Another of the Kowalskis and the Parmars, side by side.
About this project
This story was primarily reported over 13 days in May and June in Anand and Khambhat, India. Further reporting was done in San Carlos and San Francisco. The Akanksha Infertility Clinic in Anand allowed a Chronicle reporter and photographer full access to its facilities, except for the delivery room. Interviews were conducted with the clinic's current and former surrogates, staff members, clients and members of the Parmar, Kowalski and Benito families. The scenes and conversations in this story were either witnessed firsthand or reconstructed through interviews with those present. Interpreter Jignasha Pandya helped conduct all interviews with those who spoke the Indian language of Gujarati and contributed reporting. In addition, she helped the Kowalskis with interpretation at times. Chronicle photographer Nicole Frugé also contributed reporting.
The graphics were created by Chronicle artist John Blanchard with information from the Indian Society for Assisted Reproduction, Dr. Nayna Patel of the Akanksha Infertility Clinic, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, CIA Factbook, U.S. Census, Times of India, BBC, NOAA and World Bank. The section was designed by Danielle Mollette-Parks.
6.7 million women in the U.S. have impaired fertility.
1.5 million women in the U.S. are infertile.
6% of married women in the U.S. ages 15 to 44 are infertile.
7.4 million women in the U.S. ages 15 to 44 have used infertility services.
451 fertility clinics in the U.S. in 2011.
70% of India's population lives on less than $2 a day.
23% of India's 587 million women and girls work.
Stephanie M. Lee is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. E-mail: firstname.lastname@example.com Twitter: @stephaniemlee


text:
My local shop gave me a sweet deat on Farsight and an old commander. So I converted the commander to a Coldstar so now I have 2 Coldstars. Real simple. Used the Coldstar thrusters. Glued the extra fins on, and his burst cannon. Now I just need a new base!
I'm about to start on the Stormsurge. Working a lot of overtime and decided I earned a second one!

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Berlin (Aug. 17)
Austria has not only become the tete-de-pont of the anti-German powers, but it has been officially selected by the Jews as their bulwark against the New Germany, the Angriff, organ of Propaganda Minister Goebbels, complains in a half-page article today.
The Jews rule Austria, the article says, and alone of all the sections of the German population have been left untouched by the recent bloody events. On the contrary, the newspaper fulminates, the Jews are prospering on the blood of German citizens.
The Austrian government has sold itself to the Jews, the article states.


text:
TEMECULA – A motorist killed when his SUV slammed into a cement truck near Temecula was identified today as a 25-year-old Fallbrook man.
Cort Hedrick suffered fatal injuries Tuesday in an 11 a.m. collision in the 42200 block of Anza Road, just north of DePortola Road.
According to the California Highway Patrol, Hedrick was headed north on Anza at high speed when he came upon a stopped cement truck. The truck's hazard lights were flashing, but Hedrick "continued at a high rate of speed, with no attempt of stopping behind the cement mixer," CHP Officer Nathan Baer said.
The SUV plowed into the cement truck and then veered left across opposing traffic lanes, onto the dirt shoulder, where Hedrick was ejected, the officer said.
"The SUV continued over an embankment, rolled over within a field and came to rest on its side," Baer said.
The vehicle caught fire, but the flames were quickly extinguished by the truck driver and several utility workers who witnessed the crash.
Hedrick died at Inland Valley Medical Center in Wildomar about two hours later.
The truck driver complained of pain but declined medical treatment at the scene, according to the CHP.


text:
Aleksander Emelianenko is fighting Bob Sapp. It is going to be amazing.
As Cage Potato phrased it, it's one of the most notorious can-crushers in MMA history against its most notorious can, and the only pertinent question is "will Alexander throw or land a punch before Sapp drops and pretends to be incapacitated." My cat could knock out Bob Sapp by jumping onto his lap.
To hype the fight, Emelianenko has gone into outer space to punch-murder sand pirates. I mean, that's what I pieced together by watching this video. I don't speak Russian, so maybe I'm wrong. Check it out for yourself, and ponder how hilarious Bob Sapp's return diss is gonna be if the opening blow is "I cannot be held in the chains of space sand pirates."
Here's an exclusive look at the storyboards for the clip:
Scene 1 – SUDDENLY, STARFIELD. Note: Make this look as much like the closing credits of a Marvel movie as possible.
Scene 2 – Aleksander Emelianenko wanders in, stops the special effects with a remote control and speaks Russian while being so bored he can barely keep from collapsing.
Scene 3 – SANDFIGHTERS HAVE CAPTURED ALEKSANDER, BUT HE BREAKS FREE FROM THE CHAINS THAT HAVE BEEN … uh, loosely wrapped around his body to ATTACK THE SANDMEN AND PUNCH OFF THEIR HEADS. YEAHHHH. Note: have children make the sandfighters.
The best part is that Bob Sapp has been lying on the ground waiting for the fight to end since this was uploaded.


text:
Color combination is really an important part when it comes to making a first impression, because it confers a personal touch. Through colors, you communicate more about yourself and most people process color interpretation faster than other aspects of your look. It is a very refined way of communicating information about you. Nevertheless, it should always come down to your personal judgment, and how you look at colors.
There are, however, some guidelines that can be used to make a color combination that is interesting and pleasing to the eye.
How many colors?
It is hard to give an exact answer to this question, but in general one can say that the risk of using too many colors is greater than the risk of using too few.
Too many colors will make you look hard on the eye, as there is a crowd of colors demanding for attention, so it is really tiring to the eyes.
On the other hand, wearing just a few colors, makes your look boring, but this does not always need to be the case.
One commonly used rule that you cannot go wrong with in these matters, is to use three colors. You will need a:
Primary color: This is the main color of the outfit. It will occupy most of the area and set the tone for the outfit as a whole i.e black suit
Secondary color: This is the second most used color on your outfit and is usually there to "back up" the primary color. It should be a color that is pretty close to the primary color or a color that makes a good contrast i.e. white shirt
Highlight color: This is a color that is used to emphasize certain parts of your outfit. It is usually a color which contrasts more with the primary and secondary colors, and therefore, it should be used with moderation. It is common to use a complimentary or split-complimentary color for this (see below)
You can and should use these types of colors for every outfit you wear, if it's a casual outfit, a work outfit, or, of course, a formal outfit. There are some combinations that go for more formal outfits, while some combinations go with casual or sport outfits. Usually darker colors are seen as formal, while bright color combinations are seen as sporty and fun. The color wheel is not something used just in art, it is used for clothing too and it's the result of many, and we mean many years of experience.
The Color Wheel
The color wheel is very useful when you want to combine colors in a way that is pleasing to your and everyone else's sight. Below we will demonstrate some of the most common ways to combine the colors of the color wheel. Choosing colors by looking at the color wheel is highly useful for people who don't know how to choose colors. Of course, some people can choose colors from instinct, but if you analyze the combinations they make, you will see they follow the same rules, just that in an unconscious way.
Analog Colors
The analog colors are those colors which lie on either side of any given color. Often these are color schemes found in nature. An outfit that makes use of analogous colors usually feels harmonious. The secondary color, as described above, can often be an analog color.
Complementary Colors
The complementary colors are the colors which are directly opposite from one another on the color wheel. Complementary colors are contrasting and stand out against each other. Often it is a good idea to use a complementary color as the highlight color, as described above.
Split Complementary Colors
Split complementary is a color and the analog colors to its complement color. Using split complementary colors can give you an outfit with a high degree of contrast, yet still not as extreme as a real complementary color would. It also results in greater harmony than the use of the direct complementary.
Triad Colors
Triad colors are three hues equidistant on the color wheel. When you want an outfit that is colorful and still balanced, a triad color scheme might be the way to go.
(Keep in mind that the combinations above only illustrate the hues that are combined. In most color schemes you will also introduce variations on saturation, tint and shade.)
Other color combinations
Besides the color combinations described above, which are based on the position of the colors on the color wheel, there are also a few other ways of combining colors.
Monotone Chromatic
A monotone color scheme is just one single hue and its variations in terms of tints, shades and saturation. Using saturation and tint/shade variations of a color is always good. However, in most cases we would advise against using a fully monochromatic scheme, as there is a risk of monotony. We wrote a while ago an article on the fact that tendencies in fashion are to use only monochromatic schemes, but we would advise you to create your own style and maybe use a glimpse of color. Using it with pure white or black can be efficient though! This is the only way it can look good!
Monotone Achromatic
A monotone achromatic color scheme is a special instance of the monotone scheme which consists of only neutral colors ranging from black to white. A scheme like this can be efficient on an outfit, but it can easily look boring. Using an achromatic scheme with just one bright color for highlight can be very effective.
Also, we need to also talk about wearing black and white. Black and white are not colors, and in fashion, we put them in the "neutrals" category, along with beige, gray, etc. As you know, we recommend that you don't wear just neutral colors, but here we need to say that black and white is the only combination of neutral colors we recommend! Brown is also a neutral color in fashion. Brown belts, shoes, jackets also go with anything. In fashion, silver and gold are also neutrals, so you can mix them: a gold bracelet goes with a silver one, even though it's not something very common.
There you have it, color wheels, examples and all the information you need! Next time you will be putting an outfit together, if you follow these rules, you will most certainly stand out in the best way possible!
Using this information will definitely help you and improve the way you look for good!
Fraquoh and Franchomme
Further reading:
The complete guide to mixing patterns and prints
A guide to coordinating the colors of your clothes (+examples)
Choosing the colors of your clothes according to your skin tone
Discovering what colors to wear according to your natural features
Choosing the best color of clothes for dark skin tones
How to match your tie and shirt
P.S. What do you think? How do you mix your colors? Do you have a favorite color? Share your feedback, questions or thoughts in the comments below! For more articles on style, fashion tips and cultural insights, don't forget to subscribe to Attire Club via e-mail or follow us on Facebook or Twitter!


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Once Upon a Time Blooper ReelMatt Richenthal at . Comments
Things don't always go so smoothly when filming Once Upon a Time. Watch the Season 1 blooper reel here.
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text:
Engine Mechanical problem
1993 Suzuki Sidekick 4 cyl Two Wheel Drive Manual 99000 miles
I had a mechanic replace my timing belt and tensioner just for a routine 60-90,000 maintenance tune-up. While driving about a week later my car shut down and engine failed due to the timing belt falling out of the route. I had the belt replaced and thought that all was checked and fixed, however just recently the car did the same thing and shut down in the middle of the highway. I had a new mechanic inspect the problem and this time the timing belt was snapped in half. The time before that it had been pushing foward until it melted a hole in the cover. Now it snapped in half. He aligned the tensioner, correlated the crank and cam, tightened the belt properly and made sure everything was working properly to his knowledge and I watched him do the whole thing. What could be causing the belt to spring out/fall off of the mechanism?
have the same problem?
Thursday, July 9th, 2009 AT 3:17 PM


text:
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|14th April 2012, 01:12 PM
diyAudio Member
Join Date: Jul 2005
Location: Brisbane-ish
C&C request: designing a headphone amp
First, allow me to apologise in advance for the length of this post.
Having recently built myself a slightly modified CMoy amp, I've been curious to know if I can take that knowledge and make something better suited to my purposes. These purposes are as follows:
- Must operate from 5VDC or 12VDC (supply is a PC PSU, thus PWM)
- Must be sourced from local supplier (Jaycar)
- Must be relatively straight forward (MOSFETs are what now?)
- Must work with low impedance headphones (64Ω Sennheiser HD 280 Pro)
- Must sound "good enough"
That last one is perhaps the easiest. I have no CRO or other testing equipment - just a hand-held multimeter and my two ears, and one of those ears is for display purposes only. It doesn't have to test like the greatest thing ever built, nor reach un-Godly volumes, so long as it's enough all around.
Credit goes to Chu Moy, Tangent and NwAvMan. This design is based on my interpretation of the work of the three of them (the CMoy and Objective2). Since my field is more electrics (auto electrics if I'm honest) than electronics, I suspect I've gotten more than a few things wrong - hence this thread.
Power (attachment 1 - power.jpg):
- B1 = 5VDC (hopefully)
- C1/C2 = 220pF/50V Ceramic
- C3/C4 = 470μF/16V L/ESR Electrolytic
- R1/R2 = 220KΩ ½W metal film
- R3 = 1KΩ ½W metal film
- U1 = National Semiconductor LM741 (DipTrace decided it shouldn't be a triangle)
This is essentially the Op Amp stabilized virtual earth that Tangent described. I basically understand that the resistors work as a voltage divider and that the Op Amp should maintain that mid-point or die trying. If I'm right, it should be good for 25mA sustained output with peaks of 40mA (my current, single OPA2134PA CMoy barely reaches 12mA with my usage).
What I'm unsure of is whether C1/C2 will work as noise suppression for the PWM supply, or if an extra bypass cap is needed in the feedback loop. I'm also wondering if C3/C4 would be better off replaced by, or even supplimented by a single capacitor before the divider. I'm also unsure whether R3 is strictly necessary, the right value, or even if it will cause problems given how close I'm operating to the bare minimum power requirement of my Op Amps.
My main concern here is that noise will be introduced to the system as a result of the PWM, which is what I suspect is causing my problem with the CMoy I've already built.
Amp (attachment 2 - amp.jpg x2):
- C1 = 2.2μF/250V Polypropylene
- C2/C3 = 220pF/50V Ceramic
- R1 = 5.1KΩ ½W metal film
- R2 = 6.8KΩ ½W metal film
- R3 = 20KΩ ½W metal film
- U1/U2 = Burr-Brown OPA2134PA
I've basically tried to set up a two-stage CMoy design with this, borrowing elements of the Objective2. Unfortuantely the only part of this that I'm sure of is that R2 and R3 give me a gain of just short of 4 - the rest I'm only speculating about.
My speculation is basically that R1 and C1, together, provide a HPF with a corner frequency just over 14Hz. C1, if I'm also understanding correctly, is to eliminate (or at least control) DC offset from the output. C2 and C3 are directly borrwed from the O² and other CMoy designs I've seen, and best I can figure they're for noise reduction as in the power circuit (I'll be honest in that I have no real idea what they're for).
Cascading the Op Amps was done for two reasons. First is that I figure using both Op Amps for both outputs means they'll be more even (though I suspect if they were one each than cross-talk would be reduced). Second is that I'm hoping the second Op Amp, with its 10 trillion ohm input impedence, will basically eliminate potential voltage shift on the virtual earth as described in Tangent's articles on why the CMoy is not good for low impedance loads.
The part of this that's not pictured, however, is the earth isolation. Since my power and signal share an earth, I cannot directly connect the signal earth to the virtual earth. My current amp gets around this with a "Ground Loop Isolator", which is essentially two AC-AC transformers (170Ω input, 100Ω output). I can repeat this, naturally, but I'm wondering if there's a better or simpler option.
As you can see, I'm really not sure with this design. I'm fairly sure it will work, but I have my doubts that it will work as I expect - or even to the point where it's worth building. This isn't my field of expertise but I've become increasingly more curious over the past week or so building the CMoy I mentioned.
I should also say that the only reason I'm looking into this is because said CMoy has some constant noise in the output which has bested all of my efforts to correct it, so I'm hoping this will be a more solid design. What makes the noise more baffling is that it is completely inaudible (to me, anyway) through my Sennheiser PC 320s - but very audible through anything else.
Comments, critiques, thoughts and ideas welcome.
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Dicipleship Isn't Easy...
Pope Francis teaches that our faith is not just about our heart and our head, it's about our hands and our feet as well. It's about what we do with our faith that counts—how we put that faith into action in our world.
Discipleship isn't easy. It wasn't easy for the first disciples either. Take a look at Peter and Paul. I love hearing about St. Peter. He screwed up so many times that it gives me lots of hope. He walks on water in faith but ends up sinking in doubt. He refuses to let Jesus wash his feet then wants his whole body cleansed. He swears he'll never deny Jesus then does it three times. And despite all his failings, Jesus still forgives Peter. And not only that, He gives him the highest honor possible by building His church upon him.
If Peter can make a mess of things as many times as he did, then I guess I can feel confident that God will continue to forgive me as I stumble and fall throughout my journey.
One of the lessons I take from Peter's life is that being a disciple doesn't mean I need to be perfect. Far from it. Part of being a disciple is persistence. If I mess up I know that I can try again. And if discipleship and evangelization seem a little daunting then that's ok too. All I can do is try to know my faith, try to live my faith and attempt to share my faith with others. And I challenge you to do the same.
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One Moment In Time by Whitney Houston. Arranged by Frank Bernaerts. For Concert Band / Wind Ensemble. Also on the Bernaerts CD: Thriller. Pop music. Medium. Score and set of parts. Duration 4:41. Published by Bernaerts Music (B1.930030-HAR).
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Bar Method fitness studio opens in Hingham
As the new year begins and resolutions to lose weight are still fresh in the minds of many, a studio offering bar fitness classes is opening in Hingham.
The Bar Method, founded in San Francisco in 2000, entered the Massachusetts market with a studio in Boston's Back Bay in 2011. Since then, the business has flourished, with clients flocking to the workout derived from dance conditioning, physical therapy, and interval training.
Owners have the same hopes for a new location on Hingham's South Street.
"We opened [in Boston] in June 2011 and knew it would be successful in Hingham. The way the studio has become a community for the clients, we knew opening in a community like Hingham that it was going to be great," said co-owner McKenzie Howarth in a phone interview.
The studio is only the second in Massachusetts, and Hingham seemed like a natural fit, both because co-owner Sarah Kuzniar lived in the town, and because of the clientele.
Opened on Jan. 2, the studio offers an hour-long fat burning class alongside childcare services.
It's step one for the expansion. Howarth and Kuzniar are working to add more instructors for both the Boston and Hingham locations.
"We like to have our teachers take the Bar Method before they train to instruct…both of our two teachers in training have spent time taking classes, one out of state and one in our Boston studio…so in a few months we'll have more teachers with us," Howarth said.
The workout style has become popular as of late, with celebrities including Drew Barrymore, Anna Paquin, Ginnifer Goodwin, Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Kelly Osborne taking Bar Method classes.
In Hingham, the Bar Method will be operating alongside competitor Secret Physique, another bar studio that opened in October.
Although there is competition in the region, Howarth said their classes differ in that they have a focus on safety alongside that of getting fit.
"One difference between us is it was created under the guidance of physical therapist, for that reason we're the safest way you can exercise," Howarth said. "We have a focus on safety and exercise combined, so our classes take a huge focus on that and our instructors spend a good deal of time connecting with people in the class, but understanding their injuries or limitations."
Classes are limited to 25 people for space reasons, and newer classes will have "spotters," or teacher assistants, to correct technique and form.
A grand opening celebration will be held this Saturday from 8 a.m. to noon.
Information about class schedules and membership is available at http://hingham.barmethod.com.


text: With the launch of iPad 3G, iPhone DEV team is busy in exploring new opportunities with iPad 3G . Dev-Team Member "MuscleNerd ' reports, it is possible to send off short messages with the UMTS version of the iPad. Needless to mention the device does not comes with native SMS application, with a little hackery with terminal installed and raw AT commands allows, the simple sending of text messages. Musclenerd also posted a YouTube video to demonstrate.


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La versione Giochi a richiesta supporta inglese, francese, italiano, tedesco, spagnolo. From the makers of the hit ICE AGE series comes RIO, a 3D comedy adventure about taking a walk on the wild side. The game focuses on Blu, a rare domesticated bird who travels to the exotic land of Rio. With the help of his female counterpart, Jewel and a group of wise-cracking and smooth-talking city birds, Blu goes on the adventure of his life! Along the way Blu journeys through Rio, dodging soccer balls, collecting tropical fruits and soaring across the beach. He participates in carnivals with new friends and ultimately, forms a conga line and dances his way to first place at the carnival ceremony. While the main character is Blu, players will also have a chance to play as the other characters from the movie in this multiplayer party game!"
Acquista contenuti Xbox su Xbox.com. La tua console Xbox 360 scaricherà automaticamente i contenuti la prossima volta che la accenderai e ti connetterai a Xbox Live.Ulteriori informazioni


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Reliable Professional Yacht and Motor Boat Surveyor based on South Coast covering the UK all of Europe.
Pre-Purchase and Insurance boat Surveys
Services Offered
- Pre-purchase boat survey
- Craft Insurance survey
- NDT standing rigging terminal testing
- Damage Assessment Survey
- MCA Coding on yacht & motor boats to Category level 2
- New build pre-delivery survey
- Overseeing osmosis treatment
- General advice boat ownership
We're Local and Mobile
We are based near to the UK South Coast in the Solent area and cover with no travel charges any location where we can drive to and carry out a comprehensive survey and return home within the same day.
We are happy to travel all other areas of the UK and Europe with travel and accommodation expenses reimbursed at cost.


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There's nowhere more glamorous than LaSource, Grenada. Its panoramic terraces, scented gardens and breathtaking beach are all suitably romantic venues for an unforgettable wedding ceremony handled by first-rate professional wedding planners. Deluxe rooms and luxury suites, oceanfront dining and an exciting nightlife also await you here in this exquisite paradise.
LaSource Wedding Package
- Services of the wedding co-ordinator
- Wedding processing fees
- A sparkling wine reception for bride and groom
- Magistrate's fees
- A wedding arch decorated with fresh local tropical flowers
- Maid of Honour and Witnesses are provided if necessary
- Special table at dinner on the evening of the marriage for the bride and groom and their guests (maximum of ten persons)
- Starting from: US$1199
Complimentary Wedding Package*: The above wedding package is FREE for couples staying 7 nights or more at LaSource.
* Some restrictions apply, may not be combinable with some offers and/or packages.
Special Offer: $1000 Credit Per Couple For new bookings only. Valid for all-inclusive stays of 7 nights or longer at published rate. Not combinable with any other offer with the exception of qualified complimentary wedding package above.* Subject to availability, some restrictions apply. Valid thru December 20, 2011.
Optional Extras
Optional extras include photography, videos, hors d'oeuvres, private dinners, additional champagne, beauty treatments and local entertainment such as steel bands. These are all readily available and your personal wedding co-ordinator will not only discuss your exact requirements, but will also advise current prices on your arrival at the resort. All optional extras are payable locally.
Please note that prices quoted by LaSource are subject to change without notice
Honeymoon Couples
Receive a complimentary bottle of sparkling wine and fresh flowers on arrival plus a couples massage.


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Wales 0 - 2 Belgium
NEW manager, new qualifying campaign... the usual old story for Wales, I'm afraid.
In more ways than one, too, for this was an opening match which will give James Collins and his manager nightmares – just as the first game of the Euro 2010 campaign did.
Back then Wales crashed to a 1-0 defeat in Montenegro after Collins carelessly dawdled on the ball and was caught in possession by Mirko Vucinic who raced forward to score, win the game and set Wales on the back-foot right from the start of the group.
Last night Collins' and Wales' opening game woes returned, this time after he was sent off in the 25th minute for a wild lunge on Belgium right-back Guillaume Gillet which saw Swedish referee Stefan Johannesson instantly brandish a red card.
Wales were up against it anyway, but any hope they had of somehow upsetting the world order and defeating the star-studded Belgians disappeared at that point. Down to 10 men, they inevitably succumbed to Belgian pressure and possession, although in the end it took set-piece goals from defenders Vincent Kompany and Jan Vertonghen to win the day for the visitors.
Click here: Wales v Belgium player ratingsRelated content
John Toshack walked after that Montenegro defeat almost two years ago to the day. Although we obviously can't expect that of new boss Chris Coleman, he already knows his side face a task of Everest-like proportions if they are to reach Brazil 2014.
Win the home games and sneak something on the travels was the Wales mantra going into this campaign. Already that theory is right out of the window and somehow the team have to regroup and come back firing in Serbia on Tuesday night.
That one is hardly going to be easy, either, and there is a real possibility the doomsday scenario we feared early on could really be upon us... two games, nil points and Wales bottom of the group.
Gary Speed, who would have been 43 years of age today, had been building everything towards this point when he was in charge, but since the tragedy surrounding him Wales have played four matches, lost the lot and not even scored a single goal.
The only real inspiration going forward last night came from Gareth Bale, who offered tantalising glimpses of his genius. But Bale was starved of possession, not given the ball in dangerous areas and even he can't beat teams with that lack of service.
Coleman, already shorn of key figures like Bellamy, Taylor, Hennessey, Collison and Ledley, was handed another blow just before kick-off when Liverpool's £15million man Joe Allen also had to withdraw because of a stomach bug.
The Welsh boss was forced into a reshuffle, pushing Collins' centre-back partner Ashley Williams into a holding midfield role and reinstating the otherwise dropped Darcy Blake into the back four.
It wasn't a position Williams was completely unfamiliar with, having filled the identical role at this very ground three years ago when a Aaron Ramsey inspired Wales battered Scotland 3-0 under John Toshack's watch in a friendly international.
But whereas Williams has developed into Wales' finest defender, a midfield player he is not and early on he was part of a side having to chase around as Belgium began on the front foot, their silky skill, pace and constant movement very much to the fore, although they lacked cutting edge up front.
Wales decided the best way to combat the extra ability their visitors clearly possessed was to hustle, bustle and force Belgium into mistakes, while choosing a route one offensive approach of their own as they used deep balls pumped up towards Steve Morison as their main weapon.
It was from one of those moves Wales became the first team to really threaten, Morison flicking on from a free kick, Jan Vertonghen and Thomas Vermalen getting into a mess and David Edwards stole in to put the ball into the side netting as Kompany hesitated.
That moment, coupled with a couple of lung-busting Bale breaks down the right hand side when he skinned the Belgium defence, gave the Welsh fans hope, but that optimism was dashed in the 25th minute when Collins' horror moment arrived.
The big West Ham man had gone forward for a free-kick as Wales went down the aerial route again, but he seemed slow getting back as the ball broke to Eden Hazard and Belgium began a counter of their own. By the time Hazard had passed on to Gillet, Collins was still out of position and tried to make amends with a robust sliding tackle.
However, Mr Johannesson deemed Collins got his timing badly wrong as he lunged high from behind and instantly brandished a red card. Collins, his team-mates and the Welsh fans appeared shocked at the decision, but the Swedish official was not going to reverse it. Nor should he have done... it was a bad challenge and I'm afraid Collins had to go.
An already mountainous task suddenly appeared nigh on impossible for Wales and it was only going to be a matter of time before Belgium, who you sensed could still go up a couple of gears, picked them off with their intricate passing.
How ironic then that when the Belgians did duly take the lead four minutes before half-time the goal should come from a set-piece, the area of the field where Wales were the ones hoping to threaten most. Sadly the Welsh defence switched off as Mertens swept over a corner from the left, permitting Kompany to sneak in ahead of them at the near post and bullet his header into the net.
A man down, a goal down, Coleman knew he needed to get his players into the dressing room at half-time and regroup, but quite what Wales did to get back into this game even the manager would have been struggling to fathom.
Predictably the second half began with Belgium dominating possession and forcing Wales back, but they still lacked any penalty box vibrancy even though West Brom's Romelu Lukaku was sent on for the lacklustre Kevin Mirallas in a bid to offer that presence around goal.
In fact it was left-back Vertonghen who offered their greatest threat, linking superbly with Hazard before drilling a fierce shot into the side netting.
Wales' only hope, it appeared more and more, was a moment of sheer magic from Bale and the Tottenham man very nearly provided the inspiration off his own back in the 60th minute. First Bale won a free kick, racing one way then the other as four Belgian defenders chased around him like the Pacman game, in the end having to resort to bundling him over.
The free kick was fully 30 yards out, but Bale stepped up and drove a ferocious shot goalwards which Thibaut Courtois had to act smartly to beat away just as the ball appeared to be swerving into the net.
While Bale always offered something, too many of Wales' other players were finding the going tough and Coleman tried to change things by sending on Vokes and Robson-Kanu to offer fresh legs in place of the struggling Church and Morison, while he also replaced Edwards, who had run his socks off, with Leicester's Andy King.
It was to no avail, though, and whereas Bale came agonisingly close with his free-kick, Belgium's response was to thunder home a similar effort eight minutes from time. Ramsey conceded a free-kick and Bale's Spurs colleague Vertonghen stepped up and drove an unstoppable left foot effort into the far corner of Myhill's net.
In the end, I guess, it was sadly so predictable.


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Since joining RBS last year, McEwan has begun a major programme of investment across retail banking, focusing on improving branch facilities - he is said to visit up to five a week - and offering advanced online and mobile banking services for customers.
The 56-year-old joined RBS last September as chief executive for UK Retail, having worked in retail banking for more than a decade.
More than half of that time was spent at Commonwealth Bank of Australia (CBA), where he was most recently group executive for Retail Banking Services.
McEwan was credited with lifting retail banking profits by 50pc to $2.8bn over five years, and saw the Bank awarded numerous awards including the 'Best Retail Bank in Asia Pacific' and the 'Best Retail Bank in Australia'.
He also held the position of executive general manager at CBA in charge of its branch networks, contact centres and third-party mortgage brokers.
Before banking he worked in both the insurance and investment industry in Australia and New Zealand for more than 25 years.
During that time he held senior positions at stock-broking business First NZ Capital Securities and was also chief executive of National Mutual Life Association of Australasia/AXA New Zealand.
New Zealand-born McEwan holds a Bachelor of Business Studies, majoring in Industrial Relations & Personnel Management.
He is married with two children.


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Bruce Munyambo Appointed UNMISS Police Commissioner
The United Nations Secretary General appointed Rwanda's Commissioner of Police (CP) Bruce Munyambo as Police Commissioner (D2) of the United Nations Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS) earlier this week.
CP Munyambo's appointment had earlier been seconded by the Government of Rwanda, according to Rwanda National Police (RNP).
He will succeed Uganda's AIGP Fredrick Yiga, who has completed his three-year tenure.
CP Munyambo becomes the second Police Commissioner after CP Vianney Nshimiyimana, who is currently heading UN Police under the United Nations Operations in Ivory Coast (UNOCI).
He will assume the top Police office in UNMISS late this month. He takes over the UN office with rich peacekeeping and policing experience.
Prior to his appointment, Munyambo was the Commissioner for Operations and Public Order in Rwanda National Police.
Before that, he was the Commandant of Police Training School (PTS) Gishari and headed the department of logistics among others.
CP Munyambo holds a Master's degree in International Strategic Leadership and Management. He is also a graduate of Leicester University in United Kingdom (UK) in Criminal Justice and Police Management and attended the International Commanders and Strategic Command courses from Bramshill Police Staff College in UK.


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I don't know why I let myself think about stuff that I know won't happen.
Like a trip to Las Vegas for my 21st. The idea popped up when I let myself admit that I really wanted to do something SPECIAL for this upcoming birthday. My last one REALLY sucked. We got "evicted", my mom took my dog and our birds to Delta for a week, and returned without them. I looked for help in our situation, only to be told I was lazy. I went out to dinner with my friends. That was it. Dad said we'd do something special when mom got back; when she did we ate fried chicken and watched a movie. We had no idea where we were going to be in a week, and we had no idea what it was we were going to do. We were all sick, and nothing seemed all right. Of course it all worked out. . . But. It still sucked. And the few before that weren't really winners either. My 18th was great though <3 So. I do have that! :3
Any way. I wanted to make a big deal out of this birthday. Go to Vegas with the two women in this world that I love and respect the most, my mother and my sister. I feel like this is my last excuse to something stupid and lavish for my birthday. The last one I can justifiably do something extravagant for. And really, it would be the only one. I just. . . I don't know why this is so important to me. And I feel like a spoiled brat for thinking like this. But, I can't help it.
My sister agreed to it at first.
But. Chances are she's backing out. Which I get – She can't afford it, even if I go halvsies with her one everything. I understand it, I REALLY truly do. But that doesn't change the fact that part of me is still hurt. That I let my imagination get the best of my hopes, in turn only to be met with disappointment. Again.
Last paycheck, I wanted to get clothes that were on sale and a haircut. As it turned out a three hundred dollar paycheck isn't enough to do those things AS WELL AS pay your part of the rent, go out to eat for New Years after a week of hell, and get stuff like toilet paper and hygiene products.
I had a brief break down when I was trying to explain to my mother how all that made me feel. I don't think she really gets why I feel like this, even though she's trying really hard, and she really thinks she does. She keeps telling me I finally got a good job, and that I can finally get back up on my feet.
But. . .
I just realized that $9.36 an hour isn't enough to get yourself on your feet when you have a starting point of $0.00 v-v I have no savings, and I have very few ways to ACTUALLY save. Maybe if I worked an actual FULL TIME/YEAR ROUND job that paid that, I could save and get on my feet. But. . . This job isn't at all like that. I've considered getting another job. The thing with that is all of my shifts are either 10-6 (sometimes 8 ) or 12-9. I get one 8-5 every week. When business is down, it wouldn't be hard to juggle those shifts with another job. However, I must stress that when business is up, it is WAY UP. During the week between Christmas and New Years, I worked seven days in a row. I worked a 12.5 shift, a 13.5 shift, ONE 8 hour shift, and four nine hour shifts. And, because of the way the pay period is I only got eight hours of overtime, when I in actuality I worked about 21 hours of overtime. During these times, there is no way in hell that I can work two jobs. There is no way during the few truly busy weeks in the season that I can tell one place to f*ck off while I work at the other. That would not only be a truly DICK move, but it would likely get me fired from one of the jobs.
I want to ask for a raise.
But with the way Christy talks about how we need to do all of this stuff to keep the budget low so that raises for any of us would be possible . . . Well, I know that there is no way I would get one.
I want to get this computer.
So I can write more, and work on my graphics. I want to get it because it's a GOOD machine and it's so pretty! I got myself all excited thinking about it. It would be faster than any other laptop I've had, and it would have way more room too. I want to apply for a payment plan.
I told my mom about tonight. Which was a mistake, because dad had put her in a bad mood. I was just so excited about it. Well, the first thing she did was remind me that I had an insurance payment this month rather than listening to me entirely. So rather than give me helpful advice, like I had hoped she would, she simply reminded me that once again I let myself think about something I shouldn't have. . .
Then there is my trip to Ireland.
I want that more than most anything right now.
I want to go there, and finish something I started. I want to go there and prove to myself that YES I can do anything I want if I work for it.
But. . .
At this rate, I think that I'll never really get there.
Sorry for my b*tching guys.
I think I post all my angst here because I know no one will respond. I know they'll read it, and then forget it. At least, I hope that's how it is. I need to get stuff off my chest, but I don't want to make the people I love worry. All of this will pass, as everything does and I'll get over it. I just need the chance to rant first.
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Deviled Ham Canape Appetizer Recipe. Easy-Peasy and a flavorful bite-sized treat from Tweet. Before Christmas a group of ladies in the neighborhood arranged reservations for high tea at Cherokee Castle just a few miles south of Highlands Ranch. The castle sits high on a plateau affording unforgettable Rocky Mountain panoramic 200 mile views from Pike's
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Cincinnati, O (Oct. 21)
On the occasion of his seventieth birthday. Alfred M. Cohen of Cincinnati, was awarded the honorary degree of Doctor of Hebrew Law here on Saturday afternoon, October 19, at the opening exercises of the fifty-fifth year of the Hebrew Union College.
Mr. Cohen has been chairman of the college's Board of Governors for 12 years, and a member of the Board for 28 years. He is international president of B'nai B'rith. member of the Executive Board of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations, president of the People's Bank and Savings Co., past president of Rockdale Avenue Temple, former member of the Ohio Senate, past president of the Ohio Electoral College, past national president of the Young Men's Hebrew Association, and an honorary member of Ruth Lodge No. 18 of Cincinnati,
Charles Shohl of Cincinnati, honorary president of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations, and Dr. Julian Morgenstern, president of Hebrew Union College, were the speakers.


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text:
Guy de Maupassant's story of bourgeois guilt and relationships stained with envy is enriched by the subtle humor and playful voice acting of performer Walter Zimmerman. Pierre and John concerns an unexpected windfall, inherited by John Roland following the sudden death of a family friend. John's brother Pierre doesn't receive a penny, which leads to familial tensions. The jealous Pierre begins to doubt the fidelity of his mother, and eventually unearths an extramarital affair long past. A veteran performer of 19th-century classics, Zimmerman lends sprightly pacing and fluid efficiency to Maupassant's treatise on the irony of fortune brought by death.
©1986 Jimcin Recordings; (P)1986 Jimcin Co.
"In his novels, he concentrated all his observations scattered in his short stories. His second novel Bel-Ami, which came out in 1885, had thirty-seven printings in four months. His editor, Havard, commissioned him to write new masterpieces and, without the slightest effort, his pen produced works of style, description, conception, and penetration. At this time he wrote what many consider to be his greatest novel, Pierre and John." (Wikipedia Encyclopedia)
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"C'etait OK..."
Interesting story by a French master. The narrator did not keep my interest, however. I enjoyed reading the story more than listening to it.
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What does obimbricate mean?
Definitions for obimbricate
Here are all the possible meanings and translations of the word obimbricate.
Webster Dictionary
imbricated, with the overlapping ends directed downward
Origin: [Pref. ob- + imbricate.]
Chaldean Numerology
The numerical value of obimbricate in Chaldean Numerology is: 5
Pythagorean Numerology
The numerical value of obimbricate in Pythagorean Numerology is: 7
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