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Excerpt from:
The morning of May 22, 2006, I set my alarm for 4 a.m. I wanted to be the first one to wish Matthew a happy birthday. He was in a college program year at Camphill Soltane near Philadelphia. Matthew answered the house telephone on the first ring.
He knew I would call.
"Matthew!" I said. "You're 20! Can you believe it?"
"Yes," he responded flatly. "But Mom? I have something very important to ask you. I've been thinking about Amy. Can we go see her?"
Matthew had met Amy three years before during his first year at Camphill. Like Matthew, Amy has autism. The staff at the school had told us that they liked each other a lot and we were thrilled; since Matthew's diagnosis years ago, we grieved at the thought of him living a solitary life.
By the time Matthew became interested in girls, he picked the "typically developing" ones—those who showed him even the slightest kindness, smiling at him in the hall at school or helping him as tutors in his special-education class, and he trailed them relentlessly. He would cry and sometimes yell at them if they told him to back off, and no amount of coaching helped. We were thrilled that the school community nurtured and supervised his friendship with Amy.
Amy's parents were also excited about the budding relationship, and since they lived near the school, they were able to observe and support the autistic lovebirds.
"They are beautiful together," said Katie, Amy's mother. "They go for walks and talk, sometimes sitting on the garden bench. Amy doesn't like to be touched and Matthew respects that."
Contrary to popular belief, not all autistic people are averse to touch, and we were surprised that Matthew, who had been known to approach women of all ages and ask them if he could put his arm around them, or touch their hair, could restrain himself. I had shared this information with Katie and the school staff.
"So keep your eye on him!" I laughed nervously.
"Oh believe me, we do!" they reassured me.
Amy's parents sent a picture of the young pair together, and they were a striking couple: Matthew, tall and blond with a wiry frame, broad shoulders, and brown eyes, and elfin Amy, short and slight, with long brown hair and pale blue eyes. The pair stand side by side, looking down and smiling slightly. "Amy doesn't usually let anyone stand that close to her," said Katie.
A few incidents in the course of the relationship kept us on edge, as when Amy refused to see Matthew for a week after he pushed her into a swimming pool fully clothed, and the time he followed her into the bathroom and locked the door.
"Did he do anything?" I asked the staff, my heart racing.
"No, he just watched her going to the bathroom."
Whatever we are paying these people, it's not enough.
While news of these missteps was unsettling, we felt fortunate that the staff remained calm. They used the episodes to teach Amy and Matthew appropriate rules of relationships. Everyone began to believe the relationship could last, and wouldn't that be great?
But a few weeks before the end of the school year, Katie and Sam, Amy's father, took the two out to lunch to celebrate Matthew's birthday. Just as Matthew was opening a gift that Amy had picked out especially for him, he asked the group if they knew Katherine.
Katherine was a student-teacher-in-training who had been visiting the school for the last few weeks. I had heard that she was very attractive, and that Matthew was taken with her.
"She is probably better-looking than Amy," he said. "I might like her better."
As a person who would rather endure great pain than hurt anyone's feelings, I was mortified when I heard about his comments. But Katie and Sam found them amusing and said that Amy didn't take them personally. I didn't want to ask whether they thought that Matthew was dumping Amy.
"If we could all be more straightforward, the world would be a better place!" they said, but I was more in favor of polite avoidance and gracious reserve. Unfortunately, Matthew will never be subtle. His brain is wired for brutal honesty.
Peter and I flew back a few weeks later to pick up Matthew for the summer break, and we asked him if we could meet Amy.
"I've moved on," he said, "and we're not going to talk about it anymore." Katie and Sam stopped by to meet us in person, for by now we had already forged a strong connection, having commiserated long-distance about the road behind and ahead. We had laughed about our kids' similar eccentricities and wondered how we could help them connect in a meaningful way.
Though Matthew and Amy parted for the summer dispassionately, we hoped that their friendship could be rekindled in the fall. But the following October, when I asked Matthew about Amy, he reminded me that he had moved on.
"Besides," he said, "she got a haircut, and I don't like it."
In the year since Matthew had last seen Amy, who was now attending a Camphill School in New York, he had complained that there were not enough nice girls around, and that he was lonely. He asked me if I thought, perhaps, that Amy might be lonely, too.
I called Katie and told her about Matthew's request, and suggested that perhaps we could arrange a visit over Memorial Day weekend. She agreed right away. Maybe we could have lunch at their home in Connecticut, and then go bowling and for a hike! I felt like such a good mother going the extra mile to help my lonely son.
Matthew and I drove from Philadelphia to Connecticut and spent the night with family before meeting with Amy and her parents.
"What will we do at Amy's?" Matthew asked.
"We thought it would be nice to visit for a while at their house," I said, "and then go out to lunch. Maybe we can go bowling."
"No bowling," he said. "When we get to Amy's, all of the grown-ups will talk outside, and Amy and I will go in the house and sort things out."
Sort things out?!
"What do you mean, sort things out?" I asked.
"I want to be alone with Amy in her room with the door shut," he responded.
"But what if Amy doesn't want to be alone with you, and what if her parents don't want you to be alone with her?" I asked, all at once feeling like I was headed for a trap.
"I'll tell them that I'm no one to be messed with," he said, "and we aren't going to talk about it anymore."
It became clear to me that while I was making plans that you might see on a made-for-television movie, Matthew was making plans of his own.
After a brief discussion that escalated into a shouting match, I let the subject drop and called Katie with an SOS before we went for our visit the next morning. The two of us laughed uneasily about Matthew's plan, but decided it would be best to go ahead with the visit.
"We'll just have to be firm," said Katie.
But the next morning, when we arrived at Amy's house nestled next to a pond at the end of a lovely green country lane, there was no walking and talking and standing side by side with slight smiles. Amy, looking adorable in white capri jeans, tank top, and high-heeled sandals, was a bowling pin, and Matthew was the ball, with overwhelming momentum. After the initial greeting where we all told each other how great we looked, Katie suggested that we sit down and catch up.
"Listen," Matthew responded, "I'm the boss today, and I say that Amy needs to be all alone with me in her room."
"But I don't want to be alone with him," Amy whispered to her mom. "He's too bossy."
"Matthew," Katie said calmly, "we are so glad you could visit. But Amy would be more comfortable if we all hang out together."
"No way!" yelled Matthew. "I've been thinking about Amy for a long time! I even dream about her when I'm sleeping, and I want to be alone with her!"
God help me.
"What you are saying then, Matthew, is that you don't care about what Amy wants," Katie said, locking eyes with Matthew. "It's only important what you want."
"That's right!" said Matthew triumphantly, like a game-show host moving a contestant to the championship round.
Sam, Katie, and I, all experts in managing autistic meltdowns, gave this visit our best shot and tried all of our tricks, but it was no use. When Matthew made plans, he was determined—obsessed—to see them through, and of course we weren't going to let him have his way.
"Let's go out to lunch now!" I said, desperate to move things along. It was only 10:30.
We all piled into the family's minivan, Matthew leaning close to Amy, and Amy leaning away from him, muttering, "He's bothering me. I don't like it."
During lunch, where Matthew ordered pizza and 21 french fries, Sam, Katie, and I tried to reduce the tension with cordial conversation.
"Matthew, tell everyone where you are going this summer," I said cheerfully.
"I'm not in the mood," he replied. "Let's go back to Amy's."
"Matthew," Sam said, trying to change the subject, "guess where Amy is going this summer?"
"I give up," said Matthew, "and I'm tired of all this talking."
Once back at the house, Matthew announced that he would like to stay a little longer, and then come back the next day, but Sam, Katie, and I, who all looked like we had aged ten years in the last few hours, blurted out reasons why it was time to end our visit—now. Somehow I managed to get Matthew back into the rental car, and we drove away. Matthew burst into tears, and when we got to the main road, I pulled over and hugged him.
"They wanted me to stay," he said, "but I'm too busy."
"That's right, Matthew," I said, patting his back. "You're a busy guy."
The next morning, I called Katie and thanked her, and said wow, wasn't that exhausting. She said yes it was, and did I know that Matthew had asked Amy if they could lie down in the grass and do sex.
"Oh, Katie," I gasped.
"She said she didn't want to lie down in the grass because she didn't want to get her clothes dirty and I'm not sure if she even understood what Matthew was wanting. She's still pretty naive."
"Oh, Katie," I repeated, "I am so sorry. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for being so honest."
"And we thought it was difficult when they were young," Katie sighed.
When Matthew was in eighth grade, a psychologist who specialized in teaching adolescents with special needs about sex visited his class. A handful of parents, including me, looked on from the back of the room as she stood in front of the class with the most impressive poker face and peeled the clothes off of a man doll and a woman doll. The dolls shared her ridiculous poker face as she fit their parts together.
"Oh, my God," Matthew mumbled in disgust , as parents stifled laughter. I was transported back to the day that I sat in the auditorium of Havens elementary school, slides of male and female reproductive organs flashing on the pull down screen in front of Mrs. Stewart's 6th grade class. Pamela Abernathy fainted and fell back in her chair and my friends and I giggled reassured each other that our parents had only done that when they wanted to have babies. I wondered how Matthew was processing this information.
How could I be sure that he understood the basics of sexuality (including the urges??)
"If we're not pre-teaching kids with autism going to middle school," say's Peter Gehrhardt, an expert in adults with autism and the Director of the Organization for Autism Research , "they'll get a very skewed vision of human sexuality". Peter spoke at the recent Morgan Center Autism Conference. A podcast from his talk will soon be available and I will post it here.
Some tips from a past interview with Lisa Jo Rudy:
Think ahead – be proactive ("pre-teach")
- Be concrete (talk about the penis or vagina, not the birds and bees)
- Be consistent and repetitive about sexual safety
- Find someone of the same gender to teach the basics of safety and hygiene
- Be sure to address the social dimension of sexuality
- Strongly reinforce for all appropriate behavior
- Redirect inappropriate behaviors. (such as masturbation.)
Meanwhile, back in Connecticut…
I decided to call Matthew's primary caregiver, David Schwartz at Camphill, who had helped guide Matthew with his relationship with Amy from the beginning. He had a way of explaining things simply and frankly. Matthew had great respect for David and turned to him when he was upset, confused, or simply needed to work something out.
"I'll talk with him as soon as he gets back," said David. "I'll call you and tell you how it goes."
"What did you say? What did he say? Did you get through to him? Should I talk to him?"
David told me that he asked Matthew to tell him about his weekend. "How did it go? How is Amy doing?" he had asked.
"Amy looked nice, but the grown-ups wouldn't let us go in Amy's room and shut the door."
"Did Amy want to go in her room with you and shut the door?"
"Not really. So we went outside and the parents kept watching us."
"Did Amy want to be alone with you outside?"
"I'm not sure."
"Did you touch Amy?"
"I wanted to. I wanted her to lie down on the grass so we could do sex."
"Have you ever had sex with anyone else?"
"Probably not."
David told Matthew what he had heard many times before—but none of it had made sense until today.
"Sex is part of a loving relationship. Both people have to agree to have sex, or it is out of the question. If you have sex, the woman can get pregnant and have a baby. Do you understand?"
"Are you ready to be a dad?"
"No way. I decided I'm not going to do sex with a girl after all."
David reassured Matthew that it was normal for a man his age to want sex, but that there were other ways to satisfy those urges.
"Did you tell him how to masturbate?" I asked, blushing through the telephone.
"Believe me, Laura," David said. "He's already an old pro at that."
He told him that in a few years, when Matthew was older and more mature, he might be able to have a relationship.
"The business of sex and relationships is complicated for all of us," said David. "Matthew needs everyone to support him through this. Just keep it simple, be honest."
I thanked David profusely, and he said you're welcome, "but I'd better get going," he joked. "I've got to keep my eye on Romeo!"
Click HERE to order A REGULAR GUY: GROWING UP WITH AUTISM


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Copenhagen Consensus
The Copenhagen Consensus aimed to provide a meticulously prepared, thorough basis for global decision-making, thereby helping to ensure better living conditions reach the world's population. This was be done by gathering existing knowledge about a number of the most pressing challenges and utilizing the minds of some of the best economists in the world to prioritize possible solutions.
From May 24 to May 28 2004 the Danish Environmental Assessment Institute, directed by Bjørn Lomborg. assembled nine prestigious economists, including four Nobel Laureates, in Copenhagen. The unique approach was to use this expert panel to make a ranking of various economic estimates of opportunities that would meet these challenges. Thorough challenge papers were commissioned from leading specialists - the challenge paper authors - for each challenge.
Utilizing the challenge papers and opponents' commentaries, the experts made a prioritization of the opportunities meeting the challenges, based on estimations of costs and benefits. The outcome was a prioritized list of opportunities meeting the biggest challenges. This list became beneficial to decision-makers all over the world

subset: commoncrawl


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Foundation for TRUE LIFE IN GOD
Fondation pour LA VRAIE VIE EN DIEU
Stiftung für DAS WAHRE LEBEN IN GOTT
Fundación para LA VERDADERA VIDA EN DIOS
Geneva (Switzerland)
e-mail: email@example.com
TLIG website Foundation Donations Beth Myriam Donations
Here is a summary of what the Foundation for True Life in God is all about, the reason for its creation, the mission it has been entrusted with and formalities of importance:
Vassula says: "I have created the Foundation for True Life in God, based in Geneva, Switzerland, in order that care be taken and help provided for the diffusion of the True Life in God messages I have received since 1986. The Foundation will outlive my person and is, therefore, bound by my written instructions. The Foundation, through its authority and statutory institutions is to observe and act accordingly, taking in particular to heart our Lord's instructions: remember My Holy Presence; be My vessels of Light carrying My Word and diffuse My Messages" (TLIG, April 10, 1990).
A Swiss based foundation is a legal entity, closely supervised by the federal authorities who have a legal duty to ensure that all activities rigorously comply with the statutes of the Foundation. An annual report must be submitted to this effect. This stands as a guarantee that the Foundation for True Life in God will work as intended by its founder. Any changes to the now adopted statutes need the federal authorities' approval. The Foundation's official birthday is March 10, 2008.
The Foundation is run by the Foundation Council of up to 12 members. Vassula has nominated the initial 9 members of the council. Henceforth the council will renew itself by majority vote, strictly following guidelines for future new members.
The Council Members are drawn from many walks of life and countries. The initial council includes members from Switzerland, UK, Singapore, Philippines, USA, Ireland and Spain.
As you know, Vassula does not receive any remuneration for her TLIG activities. This same principle applies to all members of the Foundation Council and associated TLIG executives. Only professional outsourced help such as an accountant, an auditor etc. are paid from foundation funds. The legal capital, necessary for the creation of a foundation in Switzerland, has been provided by donations.
The Foundation's Mission:
The Foundation has been established by Vassula:
(a) to promote knowledge and understanding of the works entitled "True Life in God". The Foundation has the responsibility of ensuring the timelessness of these writings, their universal distribution in any form the Foundation may decide to employ, as well as the physical preservation of the originals.
(b) to promote unity among the Christian Churches as contemplated by the True Life in God messages, always seeking the glory of God, and the furtherance of His Kingdom for the spiritual benefit of all peoples without exception.
(c) to promote the charitable work of the Beth Myriams, as well as providing financial support, where necessary, for that work, in accordance with Vassula's charter on Beth Myriams.
d) to ensure that Beth Myriams are run in accordance with the spirit of the True Life in God messages and adopted policies.
(e) to promote the work of, and – where necessary – provide financial support to other appropriate charitable activities that are influenced by the message of True Life in God.
(f) to ensure the long-term continuation of the work of True Life in God and evangelisation in the spirit of the True Life in God messages.
g) to defend the reputation of the True Life in God messages and of Vassula herself.
(h) to work in close contact with national True Life in God associations, whom it will serve in their evangelisation efforts and support in adversity.
(i) to ensure the publication of the messages world wide and in all feasible languages.
(j) to take care of supranational projects, of Vassula's copyrights over the messages and to ensure respect for the following protected trade marks:
True Life in God
La Vraie Vie en Dieu
Wahres Leben in Gott
La Verdadera Vida en Dios
(k) to raise funds:
- to enable the Foundation to achieve its objectives,
Foundation for True Life in God
Geneva, December 2009


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Team USA Gets Gold Medal for Embarrassment By Wearing Olympic Uniforms Made in China [VIDEO]
The athletes that comprise Team USA in the Summer Olympics may have been born in the USA but their outfits? Not so much.
Those were made in China. The classic attire the Olympians will wear at the Opening Ceremonies is constructed in distinctly American colors –red, white and blue. But that's where the patriotism ends.
The Ralph Lauren-designed duds boast "Made in China" labels. In fact, all the items that comprise the uniforms the US athletes wear have been made elsewhere. Domestic fashion designer Nanette Lepore answered "absolutely" when asked if US-made clothing could have been a realistic possibility. She also believed they could have been manufactured at a cheaper cost, as well.
"Why shouldn't we have pride not only in the American athletes, but in the American manufacturers and laborers who are the backbone of our country?" Lepore said. "Why? What's wrong? Why was that not a consideration?"
When contacted about the overseas-made clothing, the US Olympic Committee responded, "The US Olympic team is privately funded and we're grateful for the support of our sponsors. We're proud of our partnership with Ralph Lauren, an iconic American company."
As you can see, that's not really an explanation.
What a dose of irony.
[ABC News]


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[1] Torreyson Library
Mission: Torreyson Library's mission is to be the center of intellectual life for the University of Central Arkansas community. Serving as UCA's "academic town square" and marketplace for ideas, the library invites all members of the university community to come together, exchange diverse opinions, work collaboratively, and pursue intellectual growth.
Services: Library Faculty are available at the Library's Reference Desk to give students personalized help in doing research and finding information required for course assignments. Students may also receive assistance by phone at 501-450-3129 or via the Library's web site at https://uca.edu/library/.
Online databases, available through the Library's web site on a 24/7 basis, provide access to business information, legal information, and to full text journal, magazine, and newspaper articles in the humanities, social sciences, life sciences, and applied sciences.
[2] Career Services
The Career Services Center, located at 314 Bernard Hall, provides services to assist students in determining career and educational choices. Through both group and individual counseling, the center tries to help students better understand themselves, their interests, and abilities.
The Center will (1) provide information on careers, current job trends, colleges and graduate schools and (2) develop, sponsor and coordinate career-oriented programs for all students throughout the school year. The Center maintains a current library which includes directories of colleges, graduate schools and employers, the latest books on interview preparation and job hunting techniques, literature on specific companies and government agencies, and literature on any career. Career-oriented programs may include seminars, interview preparation, careers for women, career opportunities for minorities, and job-hunting techniques.
Placement services are provided for students and alumni to help them find full time, part-time, temporary, and summer employment in business, industry, government and education.
All students are encouraged to establish placement files with the Center before graduation. Placement records are maintained in the Center under the supervision of the director. These records are released to agencies, institutions, business firms, industrial organizations and individuals only after authorization of the student. Records are kept for a period of three years, after which they must be updated to be reactivated. For more information call 450-3134 or on-line at https://uca.edu/career/.
[3] Computer Services
Personal computers are readily available in some departments and in computer laboratories, the library, and the student center. For more information see https://uca.edu/it/. Statistical software packages are available.
[4] Counseling Center
The Counseling Center, located in the Student Health Center, provides students, faculty, and staff with a variety of services designed to facilitate personal development. All services are free and confidential in nature. Appointments can be made by calling 450-3138 or by coming by the Center Monday through Thursday, from 8:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., and Friday from 8:00 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. A detailed brochure describing the full scope of activities provided is available upon request or the Center can be accessed on the Internet at https://uca.edu/counseling/. The Counseling Center is accredited by the International Association of Counseling Services, Inc.
[5] Disability Resource Center
The Disability Resource Center is located in the Student Health Center, Second floor. UCA seeks to be in compliance with both the spirit and letter of the law as stated in Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act, as amended, and the Americans with Disabilities Act. This office's primary goal is to provide access to all programs and reasonable accommodations to qualified students. It is the responsibility of the students to notify the University of any disability or disabilities. Students who attend UCA are required to provide documentation of disabilities. As soon as the student is accepted for admission to the university, they should complete a confidential registration form and make an appointment to meet with an office staff member to discuss the program and any accommodations that will be necessary. Academic accommodations may include taping textbooks, enlarging textbook print, reader services, interpreters, use of adaptive technology, and alternative testing procedures. Other services are also arranged, depending upon the student's particular needs. The Disability Resource Center is available by phone at 501-450-3613 or online at https://uca.edu/disability/.
[6] Health and Wellness Center
The Health and Wellness Center is located in the Student Health Center, room 308 and is open from 8:00 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Monday through Friday. The main function of this office is to promote healthy behavior in the UCA community. Community assessments and educational programs are developed, implemented, and evaluated to better serve the UCA community health needs. The Center is a resource for health information that is provided through brochures, web site links, DVD's, and books on various topics available in the office, all free of charge.
The primary focus of Health and Wellness Center is prevention. One goal is to create conditions at UCA where negative health behaviors are less likely to occur. Educational events and healthy alternative activities are held each semester and are free to all UCA community. The events include: National Women's Health and Fitness Day, Alcohol and Drug Awareness Week, Great American Smokeout, Wellness Fair, Healthy Weight, National Cancer Prevention, Safe Spring Break Programming, Fast Food Survival, STD Awareness, Health and Fitness Day Fun Walk, National Breast Awareness/Mammography, World Aids Day, and National Hand Washing Awareness.
The Health and Wellness Center provides programs on alcohol and other drugs, cholesterol, stress management, cancer prevention and awareness, sexually transmitted diseases, STD's awareness and prevention including HIV/AIDS, nutrition and other topics. Programs can be developed and presented upon request.
The Center has a complete resource center with dietician's office, research center, private DVD viewing room, reading corner stocked with books on health, and a private relaxation room with a massage lounger. For more information see https://uca.edu/wellness/.
[7] International Programs
The Office of International Engagement coordinates international student matters within the university and acts as a liaison between international students, administrative and departmental offices of the university, agencies of the U.S. government, and private organizations. It processes all international undergraduate applications for admission, notifies students of their admission status, and issues admission documents. In addition, through the Office of Study Aboard, the division organizes and coordinates a variety of UCA study abroad programs and supplies students with information about short-term and semester exchange study abroad opportunities.
The university provides English language training for students who need to increase their English proficiency (see Intensive English Program).
The Office of International Engagement sponsors a variety of support services for international students. Advisory services are available regarding financial, personal, educational and social issues, health insurance claims, and the requirements of the Immigration and Naturalization Service. Other services and programs include a comprehensive orientation program that meets the unique needs of new international students, including airport pick-up, advising, testing, registration, banking, and shopping. The program is designed to complement the new student orientation offered by the university.
UCA is a member of the Council for International Educational Exchange and the Institute of International Education. Both of these organizations provide significant support and resources for institutions and for students wishing to study abroad.
The Office of International Engagement is available by phone at 501-450-3445 or online at https://uca.edu/international/.
[8] Diversity and Community
The Office of Diversity and Community provides multiple support services for current minority students (African American, Hispanic/Latino American, American Indian/Alaskan Native, and Asian/Pacific Islander American). The mission of Diversity and Community is to promote student success through retention focused programs, mentoring, leadership development opportunities, and life skills enrichment. The Office of Diversity and Community is located in Bernard Hall, Suite 207 and is available by phone at 501-450-3135 or online at https://uca.edu/diversitycommunity/.
[9] Student Center
The Student Center is the community center of the university serving students, faculty, staff, alumni, and guests. It offers a variety of programs, activities, services, and facilities. In the basement is the office for KUCA radio station. On the first floor is a food court, Post Office, University Bookstore, Campus Information Center, lounges, convenience store and the Java Joint featuring specialized coffee, drinks and desserts. On the second floor of the Student Center are meeting rooms, a ballroom, lounge space, and offices for Student Government Association, Greek Services, Student Organizations, Student Activities Board, Orientation, Student Center Administration, and Food Service Catering.
The Student Center also offers full service meeting and conference facilities for student organizations, university departments and conferences for the Central Arkansas area. The meeting rooms accommodate from ten to five hundred people, with portable staging, a variety of sound systems, and other services. For more information call 450-3235 or visit the Student Center web site.
[10] Student Health Services
Student Health Services is located in the Student Health Center and is open from 8:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m. and 1:00 p.m. to 4:30 p.m., with emergencies only 4:30-5:00 p.m. Monday through Friday. Hours are slightly shorter in summer and during holidays. Check their web site. Services available include: measles, mumps, rubella, tetanus/diphtheria, hepatitis-B and meningitis immunizations, examination and treatment of minor illness or injury, TB skin tests, blood pressure checks, tests for pregnancy, blood sugar, cholesterol, strep test, urinalysis, mononucleosis test, pulse oximetry, and peak flow measurements as ordered by the nurse practitioner or physician. EKG, laceration repair, removal of simple lesions, IV re-hydration, IM injections of a limited formulary and prescriptions on Schedule III, IV, and V are provided upon the order of an Advanced Practice Nurse (Nurse Practitioner) or physician. Women's health care, including pap smears by appointment, and pelvic exams as needed are available. Physical exams are available by appointment only. Health education and counseling, loan of crutches, student health insurance forms, and assistance in obtaining appointments with health care providers outside the University are also available.
Student Health Services does not routinely provide emergency care outside the office. Emergency care is obtained by calling 911 or at Conway Regional Medical Center Emergency Room. Students are responsible for all charges, prescriptions, and tests.
Student Health Services does not provide excuses for missed classes. Should a student be unable to attend classes for three (3) days or more, Student Health Services will notify the student's instructors of the expected absence (but not the specific reason) and possible return date. The instructor may then decide what work, if any, may be performed at a later time. Extended absences may be reported by calling Student Services (501-450-3416.) Students who are confined to their residence hall room or require a temporary special diet due to illness may obtain meal slips from the residence hall director or Student Health Services.
Proof of Immunization – Arkansas state law (Act 141, 1987) requires proof of two immunizations against measles and rubella for all full-time students and those part-time students living on campus. UCA requires students to provide proof of immunization before registering for classes. Immunizations are available free of charge in Student Health Services. For more information see https://uca.edu/studenthealth/.
[11] Alumni Association
All former students of the university are members of the Alumni Association. The Board of Directors of the Alumni Association plans the yearly schedule of events to which all former students and their guests are invited. Graduating seniors are inducted into the Alumni Association as a part of the commencement ceremony.
The UCA Magazine, a quarterly publication, is mailed to all alumni. This newsletter provides information on activities of the university, the faculty and alumni. The association strives to establish and continue friendships and contacts, both social and professional, among its members and between alumni and the university.
The Alumni Association can be reached at 501-450-3427 or online at https://uca.edu/alumni/.


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Billionaire: Buy a Home… And if You Can, Buy a Second Home!
Three years ago, John Paulson gave a keynote address at the CNBC/Institutional Investor Conference. In his speech, he told those in attendance that he believes housing will continue its strong recovery for the next 4 to 7 years, saying that:
"The housing market has bottomed. It's not too late to get involved. I still think buying a home is the best investment any individual can make. Affordability is still at an all-time high."
When asked how the average person could take advantage of the current real estate market at the time, Paulson said:
"Buy a home and, if you can, buy a second home."
Two years ago, Paulson reiterated his statement, saying:
"I still think, from an individual perspective, the best deal investment you can make is to buy a primary residence that you're the owner-occupier of."
Who is John Paulson and why should you listen to him?
Paulson is the person who, back in 2005 & 2006, made a fortune betting that the subprime mortgage mess would cause the real estate market to collapse. He understands how the housing market works and knows when to buy and when to sell.
What do others think of Paulson?
According to Forbes, John Paulson is:
"A multibillionaire hedge fund operator and the investment genius."
According to the Wall Street Journal, Paulson is:
"A hedge fund tycoon who made his name, and a fortune, betting against subprime mortgages when no one else even knew what they were."
So… Is what he said still true?
The core reasons behind Paulson's statements still ring true today, but why does he believe homeownership is such a great investment?
Paulson broke down the math of homeownership as an investment:
1. "Today financing costs are extraordinarily low."
The latest numbers from Freddie Mac show us that you can still get a 30-year mortgage at historically low rates of under 4%.
2. "And if you put down, let's say, 10 percent and the house is up 5 percent," as many experts predict, "then you would be up 50 percent on your investment."
How many are seeing a 50% return on a cash investment right now?
Paulson goes on to compare the long term financial benefits of owning versus renting:
3. "And you've locked in the cost over the next 30 years. And today the cost of owning is somewhat less than the cost of renting. And if you rent, the rent goes up every year. But if you buy a 30-year mortgage, the cost is fixed."
Bottom Line
Whenever a billionaire gives investment advice, people usually clamor to hear it. This billionaire gave simple advice – if you don't yet live in your own home, go buy one.
Let the team at Coastal Realty Connections help you find the right primary or second home. Specializing in coastal real estate from New Bern, North Carolina to the beaches of Brunswick County. Contact us today and let us put our knowledge to work for you.


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Yesterday I was out hiking round the back of Skiddaw in Wainwright's Northern Fells to activate Great Sca Fell (LDW-114) and Brae Fell (LDW-134). One reason for being out and about in that area was that Phil G4OBK was planning to activate Great Calva (LDW-095) which is one of the three summits I need to complete the Northern Fells as a chaser. I'd have been less keen if the weather had been miserable, but Thursday was a glorious day, sunny but not too hot and without the breeze that can often make it icy cold on the tops even when it is warm in the valleys.
It is a long, steady plod up from Longlands and I reached the summit of Great Sca Fell around 12:30. I put up the WOTA Pole and then sat down to eat my lunch. To raise the height of the antenna I used my walking pole for the bottom section. This didn't give me as much extra height as I'd hoped as the inner sections of the telescopic pole slid up inside the PVC tubing so I had to collapse it and just use the thickest, topmost section.
I connected the VX-8GR to the antenna to beacon my position on APRS while I ate the lunch Olga had made me. I tuned around whilst I was eating and heard a couple of distant stations. I observed their signals being desensitized intermittently. Clearly the VX-8GR receiver is not up to being connected to a good antenna in a good location.
After lunch I connected the Motorola GP300 - which has a much more robust receiver - to the antenna and began calling CQ WOTA. I worked 11 stations in all from Great Sca Fell, but they were all from the northen area as signals to the south were blocked by the great bulk of Skiddaw and Blencathra. I waited for Phil G4OBK to arrive on his first summit of the day, Bakestall, so we could have a summit-to-summit contact. I then called upon Mark MM1MPB and Colin 2E0XSD to help with my second objective of the day, which was to do some tests to see how much difference the WOTA Pole made to my signal compared to other antennas.
First I compared the signal between the WOTA Pole (which is a Slim Jim made of 300 ohm ribbon cable inside some PVC electrical conduit) and the 5/8 wave telescopic Black Whip antenna from jeepbangkok on eBay. I'd been pretty impressed with the 5/8 telescopic on previous activations but the reports from Mark and Colin suggested that the WOTA Pole was a couple of S-points better.
Unfortunately while extending the telescopic antenna to make the test I broke it! That's the end of that, which is a pity because I'm sure there will be circumstances - such as on busy summits or rocky ones where there is no earth to drive the guy pegs in - where the telescopic would still be useful.
For an additional test I tried an 8 inch long single band helical "rubber duck" which I'd previously established to be comparable to a quarter wave whip and a noticeable improvement over the stock dual band antenna that comes with Japanese handhelds. Colin couldn't hear me on the helical at all, while Mark's verdict on my signal was "awful." So the WOTA Pole is very definitely worth the trouble of erecting it and enables me to give points to stations that would not otherwise be able to hear me.
I packed everything up and made my way over to Brae Fell which was half way back to the car by another route. I set up the antenna and finished the rest of my coffee. A lone skylark, perhaps the first of the year, circled calling overhead. I began calling on the radio. Again there were plenty of takers. I worked 12 stations in all including another summit to summit with G4OBK/P on Great Calva.
So a successful day out (apart from breaking an antenna.) I just need to work someone on Mungrisdale Common and Souther Fell to complete the Northern Fells. They have been activated before: unfortunately they are not workable from home due to being of only moderate height and on the other side of Skiddaw. As they are probably the two most boring hills in the entire Lake District they are not often visited so I may have a bit of a wait until I can claim my Wainwrights On The Air Northern Fells chaser certificate.
Friday, March 25, 2011
2 comments:
- LY2SS said...
Thanks for the nice story!
73! - Friday, March 25, 2011 4:49:00 pm
- Jspiker said...
Hello Julian,
I wish we had that much activity on the VHF portions here. Hih
You're fortunate....
We have very few areas in my state where there are no trees to hang an antenna and I've often wondered how to overcome the problem of getting a wire antenna in the air. The hiking staff is a good one.
Thanks for a great story and wish you many more good field days. Sounds like great fun! - Saturday, March 26, 2011 2:57:00 pm
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Сказки Старой
Mr Fox
Оглавление - 1 | 2 |
LADY MARY was young, and Lady Mary was fair. She had two brothers, and more lovers than she could count. But of them all, the bravest and most gallant was a Mr Fox, whom she met when she was down at her father's country house. No one knew who Mr Fox was; but he was certainty brave, and surely rich, and of all her lovers Lady Mary cared for him alone. At last it was agreed upon between them that they should be married. Lady Mary asked Mr Fox where they should live, and he described to her his castle, and where it was; but, strange to say, did not ask her or her brothers to come and see it. So one day, near the wedding day, when her brothers were out, and Mr Fox was away for a day or two on business, as he said, Lady Mary set out for Mr Fox's castle. And after many searchings, she came at last to it, and a fine strong house it was, with high waIls and a deep moat. And when she came up to the gateway she saw written on it: Be bold, be bold. But as the gate was open, she went through it, and found no one there. So she went up to the doorway, and over it she found written: Be bold, be bold, but not too bold. Still she went on, till she came into the hall, and went up the broad stairs till she came to a door in the gallery, over which was written: Be bold, be bold, but not too bold, Lest that your heart's blood should run cold. But Lady Mary was a brave one, she was, and she opened the door, and what do you think she saw? Why, bodies and skeletons of beautiful young ladies all stained with blood. So Lady Mary thought it was high time to get out of that horrid place, and she closed the door, went through the gallery, and was just going down the stairs, and out of the hall, when who should she see through the window but Mr Fox dragging a beautiful young lady along from the gateway to the door. Lady Mary rushed downstairs, and hid herself behind a cask, just in time, as Mr Fox came in with the poor young lady, who seemed to have fainted. Just as he got near Lady Mary, Mr Fox saw a diamond ring glittering on the finger of the young lady he was dragging, and he tried to pull it off. But it was tightly fixed, and would not come off, so Mr Fox cursed and swore, and drew his sword, raised it, and brought it down upon the hand of the poor lady. The sword cut off the hand, which jumped up into the air, and fell of all places in the world into Lady Mary's lap. Mr Fox looked about a bit, but did not think of looking behind the cask, so at last he went on dragging the young lady up the stairs into the Bloody Chamber. As soon as she heard him pass through the gallery, Lady Mary crept out of the door, down through the gateway, and ran home as fast as she could. Now it happened that the very next day the marriage contract of Lady Mary and Mr Fox was to be signed, and there was a splendid breakfast before that. And when Mr Fox was seated at table opposite Lady Mary, he looked at her. 'How pale you are this morning, my dear.' 'Yes,' said she, 'I had a bad night's rest last night. I had horrible dreams.' 'Dreams go by contraries,' said Mr Fox; 'but tell us your dream, and your sweet voice will make the time pass till the happy hour comes.' 'I dreamed,' said Lady Mary, 'that I went yestermorn to your castle, and I found it in the woods, with high walls, and a deep moat, and over the gateway was written: Be bold, be bold.' 'But it is not so, nor it was not so,' said Mr Fox. 'And when I came to the doorway, over it was written: Be bold, be bold, but not too bold.' 'It is not so, nor it was not so,' said Mr Fox. 'And then I went upstairs, and came to a gallery, at the end of which was a door, on which was written: Be bold, be bold, but not too bold, Lest that your heart's blood should run cold.' 'It is not so, nor it was not so,' said Mr Fox. 'And then — and then I opened the door, and the room was filled with bodies and skeletons of poor dead women, all stained with their blood.' 'It is not so, nor it was not so. And God forbid it should be so,' said Mr Fox. 'I then dreamed that I rushed down the gallery, and just as I was going down the stairs I saw you, Mr Fox, coming up to the hall door, dragging after you a poor young lady, rich and beautiful.' 'It is not so, nor it was not so. And God forbid it should be so,' said Mr Fox. 'I rushed downstairs, just in time to hide myself behind a cask, when you, Mr Fox, came in dragging the young lady by the arm. And, as you passed me, Mr Fox, I thought I saw you try and get off her diamond ring, and when you could not, Mr Fox, it seemed to me in my dream, that you out with your sword and hacked off the poor lady's hand to get the ring.' 'It is not so, nor it was not so. And God forbid it should be so,' said Mr Fox, and was going to say something else as he rose from his seat, when Lady Mary cried out: 'But it is so, and it was so. Here's hand and ring I have to show,' and pulled out the lady's hand from her dress, and pointed it straight at Mr Fox. At once her brothers and her friends drew their swords and cut Mr Fox into a thousand pieces. The End. | |||||||||


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02 Apr "Why Your Website Sucks"
I had the opportunity to meet with Rachel of Forefront Web this morning to discuss a project we're collaborating on. I stumbled upon a blog post on their site that I find particularly eloquent regarding what can make a website suck. Please feel free to enjoy this well-organized list from Forefront Web.
Why Does My Website Suck?
Posted on June 2, 2011 by forefrontweb
I've spent considerable time over the last week bringing a new employee up to speed on a variety of topics. He'll be performing many duties for us (such is the joy/curse of working for a smallish firm), and among those tasks will be consulting with prospective new clients about their current sites.
After I walked him through the analysis of several sites, he finally posed a question to me, "just what makes a website suck?"
That's not an easy question to answer – at least not succinctly. The reality is that a website can fail in many ways, yet still be a success. The tricky thing is that most site owners truly don't know if their site is failing or succeeding, simply because they've never established any kind of measurement standard. BUT…that's not what we are talking about here; we're speaking only of "first glance" evaluations of websites.
So with that in mind, here's a list of things we look at when we evaluate the sucktitude of a website.
Design Failures
The first thing we consider is the overall look and feel of the site. For the most part, we're trying to determine if the site looks like it was developed in the last year or two. Here's the thing – the details that make your website look sparkly new are the very things that make it look dated quickly. Designers and programmers can sometimes get caught up in the most recent trends, which are fantastic if you plan to facelift the site every 18 months. Otherwise, they become the green shag carpet of the interwebs.
Another comment regarding design: it's extremely subjective. The same site that makes me wince in pain elicits happy squeals from others. I get that, which is why this list stays away from criticism about color theory and other important (and more subjective) elements of design.
With that said, here are some obvious design failures:
"Floating Island" syndrome
For many years, websites were developed to be viewed within a screen resolution of 800×600. Today that resolution accounts for less than 1% of all screens, and 85% of all visitors use a resolution greater than 1024×768 (stats courtesy of w3schools.com). Sites that were developed for smaller screens look like tiny islands floating on a massive background. Visitors feel pity for the poor, tiny, isolated website – and it's doubtful that's the feeling you were trying to evoke.
Most of these items have been discussed ad nauseam (and thankfully aren't as common as they used to be), so I won't bother to address why they make your site suck – just know that they do:
Splash screens or entry pages. You know, those pages that cost a ton to build and then everyone clicks the "skip this" link.
Sounds. Any sounds. Yes, even those "super cool" sound effects when you click links.
Gratuitous Flash or rotating images. This decade's version of animated GIFs (shudder).
Funky navigation. Don't make me figure out how your navigation works – I'll simply leave.
Reverse text, particularly black background with white text. Ugh.
Outdated information. In this day and age of technology and access, there's just no excuse.
Left aligned or full width websites
Early websites were all left aligned or full width. Typically when you see this now, it's on a neglected site, a government site, or a neglected government site. There are some very creative designers that can pull this off, but it's rare.
Cheesy stock imagery
There's a reason that good professional photographers make the money they do. They can see things through a camera lens that the rest of us don't. Want to know the single best upgrade you can do to your site? Replace all the images with professional photos that are specific to your organization. It's well worth the investment.
Functional Failures
These are a little harder to quantify, but site killers nonetheless. Obvious functional issues include things like broken navigation, sites that don't work in all browsers, malware and missing pictures.
Additional failures include:
No one cares about you, or your website. There, I said it.
Your site visitors only care about whether or not something you have will benefit them. Answer that question FIRST, before you tell them "About Us" or about your awards or anything else. Take a look at your site's navigation. What comes first – About Us, or information about your products and services? Most websites need to have their navigation reversed in order.Quick tip: when writing copy for your website, spend 90% of your time on addressing what your prospects want or need, and 10% on info about your company. When people send us copy, it's obvious they have done just the opposite.
No Clear Message
Yes, the picture of the blossoming flower on your home page is evocative and inspiring. Here's the thing – it does nothing to tell visitors who you are or what you do. Oh, and there's this little company called Google that would also like to know what you're about so they can help searchers find you. Much like people, the search engines will simply move on if it's too difficult to figure out.Visitors should be able to determine who you are and exactly what you do in 3 seconds or less.
No Engagement
This is the area in which more than 90% of all websites fail. There should be clear cut call to action on the home page that encourages visitors to click and see more of your site. A call to action can be anything – a contest announcement, newsletter signup, a download, contact form, even simply driving visitors to current/updated information on your site.
Poor Search Engine Visibility…or worse
Some sites are built strictly for credibility's sake; the site owner simply wants their clientele and prospects to see that they have a presence. There isn't a need to spend extra time and money to optimize the site for the engines. But for the majority of websites, SEO is an important consideration. It's very easy to determine what sites have had optimization done and the level of competency.
So what's worse than poor visibility? Violating the guidelines, which can get your site delisted and erase any possibility that a visitor could even stumble on it. Most site owners are oblivious to the fact that their site is breaking rules.
Feel Me
The last element to be considered is the most esoteric of all – the "feel" of a website. What is the "feel"?
It's the connection users feel to the website, the emotions that are invoked when they visit. It's the sense that the visual impact matches the image visitors have – or want to have – about the product or service they are after. It's the difference between the About Us page for Wilson Sporting Goods and the About Us page for Franklin Sports.
It's the final factor that turns site visitors into site ambassadors.
What do you think? What are some of the things that jump out at you and make a site look terrible?


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WASHINGTON (AP) — Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, whose home state of Kentucky was long one of the nation's leading tobacco producers, introduced bipartisan legislation Monday to raise the minimum age for buying any tobacco products from 18 to 21.
The chamber's top Republican, who said he was making enactment of the bill "one of my highest priorities," issued his proposal at a time when the use of e-cigarettes is growing and underage vaping has soared, raising concerns by health expert s. The measure would apply to all tobacco products, e-cigarettes and vapor products and was co-sponsored by Sen. Tim Kaine, D-Va., whose state has also been a major tobacco producer.
"Kentucky farmers don't want their children to get hooked on tobacco products while they're in middle school or high school any more than any parents anywhere want that to happen," McConnell said on the Senate floor.
Fourteen states, including Arkansas, California and Virginia, have enacted laws raising the minimum age for tobacco sales to 21, according to the anti-smoking Campaign for Tobacco-Free Kids. So have 470 municipalities, including New York City, Chicago, Boston and Minneapolis.
Even so, the use of e-cigarettes and vaping has surged, with much of the increase among teenagers. The CDC says most e-cigarettes contain highly addictive nicotine, which can harm the development of young people's brains and may them likelier to smoke cigarettes later in life.
"Youth vaping is a public health crisis," McConnell said. "It's our responsibility as parents and public servants to do everything we can to keep these harmful products out of high schools and out of youth culture."
A government survey found that last year 1 in 5 U.S. high school students reported vaping the previous month.
"Today, we are coming together to side with young people's health," said Kaine, acknowledging the rarity for bipartisan legislation at a time when the two parties can seldom find middle ground.
The bill quickly won the endorsement of the American Cancer Society.
Its advocacy organization, the Cancer Action Network, said the measure was a "welcome indication that Congress is taking the alarming crisis of increased youth tobacco use seriously and is committed to taking action." The group also warned the sponsors to resist amendments that could let the federal government pre-empt stronger measures by states and municipalities, exempt some young people or exclude certain products.
A similar bill was introduced last month by Sens. Brian Schatz, D-Hawaii, Todd Young, R-Ind., Dick Durbin, D-Ill., and Mitt Romney, R-Utah.
Most experts agree e-cigarettes are less harmful than the paper-and-tobacco variety because they don't produce all the cancer-causing byproducts found in smoke. But researchers say they are only beginning to understand the risks of e-cigarettes, which they think may damage the lungs and contribute to precancerous growths.
McConnell has long been involved in tobacco issues. He helped pass the 2004 tobacco buyout, when the government provided billions of dollars for growers who lost money with the end of federal price supports.
Kentucky has the highest cancer mortality rate in the country, with nearly 186 deaths per 100,000 residents in 2017, according to the federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
As health concerns about tobacco have grown in the U.S., demand and production of the crop have fallen in Kentucky, where it had long been a pillar of the state's economy. Growers have been relying increasingly on industrial hemp, which McConnell has helped legalize.
The CDC calls tobacco products the country's top cause of preventable disease and death, with almost 40 million adult cigarette smokers. The agency says around 4.7 million middle school and high school students use at least one tobacco product, including e-cigarettes. Treating adults with smoking-related diseases costs the country nearly $170 billion annually for medical care.
The country's biggest tobacco company, Altria Group, has invested in the e-cigarette company Juul and has backed bills raising the minimum age for buying tobacco and vaping products to 21. Critics have suggested that support is aimed at forestalling tougher restrictions such as banning flavored vaping products and menthol cigarettes.


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There's no denying that Corpus Christi is one of the most beloved destinations in Texas, and for good reason. However, among the well-known ways to pass a day on the bay, Corpus Christi is packed with plenty of hidden gems and off-the-beaten-path surprises.
I headed to this bay-front city in search of my own day-trip adventure.
8:30 a.m. I kicked things off at Nano's Taco Run with a couple of steaming breakfast tacos—the most important taco of the day. The flour tortillas were fresh off the griddle, with the chorizo and eggs delivering the spicy protein punch I needed to jump-start my trip.
10:00 a.m. To learn about the origins of the city, I explored the Corpus Christi Museum of Science and History. Starting with the native Karankawas up to modern-day citizens, the museum traces the people and cultures that have shaped the Coastal Bend of Texas. I walked among displays spotlighting Spanish and French shipwrecks and stagecoaches, and eventually found myself staring at full-size replicas of two of Christopher Columbus' ships, which also sailed from Spain … in 1992.
11:00 a.m. I crossed the Harbor Bridge to experience another era of nautical travel aboard the USS Lexington, a World War II aircraft carrier turned floating museum. The self-guided tour is packed with 100,000 square feet of incredible information and displays. After exploring the top, I decided to go deeper—literally—grabbing a flashlight and appropriate head protection for a guided Hard Hat Tour.
We descended into the belly of the beast, down narrow staircases and into dimly lit corners, including #1 Engine Room and the Evaporator Room, which could produce 180,000 gallons of fresh water a day.
1:00 p.m. I was hungry enough to eat a dozen MRE's, but opted instead for the Executive Surf Club, a restaurant allowing everyone to get a small taste of the city's surf culture. I grabbed a seat at a table made of old surfboards and ordered a shrimp wrap filled with fried shrimp, fresh vegetables, and homemade dressing. Cowabunga, it was good!
2:00 p.m. While traditional surfing is hit-or-miss in Texas, Corpus Christi is one of the best places in the world to kite surf. I arranged a private lesson from Prokitesurf and hit the water. The wind was consistent and strong, but sadly, my skills at capturing the wind were erratic and weak. I spent most of my lesson getting dragged through the water and tossed around like a rag doll. However, some small successes, and an awesome instructor, made me eager to come back and try again.
4:00 p.m. To enjoy the water in a much more relaxing fashion, I headed to McGee Beach, right next to the heart of downtown along Corpus Christi Bay. After a few hours of splashing around, I was ready to cash in my chips and spend the rest of my life wearing flip-flops and listening to old Jimmy Buffett records.
6:00 p.m. Margaritaville sounded pretty nice, but sno-ball-ville sounded even better, so I headed to Sno-Ball, Too, which keeps Corpus Christi iced-in. This local snowcone shop has more than 60 flavors, but upon a recommendation, I got a strawberry sno-ball with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. I can't imagine a more perfect treat on a hot summer day.
7:00 p.m. I may have eaten dessert first, but I was still hungry for dinner. Luckily, it was game night for the Corpus Christi Hooks at Whataburger Field. I grabbed a last-minute ticket from the box office and a Whataburger with fries on the way to my seat. It was a fitting meal to end a day in Corpus Christi, as Whataburger started here in 1950.
The Star Spangled Banner played as the teams took the field, and I savored a day well-spent exploring this city by the bay. So whether you follow my footsteps or forge your own path, I hope to see you on the road.
Contact the Corpus Christi Convention & Visitors Bureau, 800/766-2322.
Chet Garner is the host of The Daytripper travel show on PBS.


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While Floyd was out, Marcy tried to organize her mind. "You know, like those pill organizers they have, with the compartments for daytime and night? I wish sometimes I could organize my thoughts like that, seven days a week."
She had said this while getting her hair done a few months ago and everyone had laughed, so when she got home that went in the book. She was writing down all the things she said that made sense to her, with hopes of putting them all on cards or maybe refrigerator magnets and selling them; they could always use the extra cash! Which reminded her, so she checked her secret stash, not the money Floyd gave her like it was killing him, but a little something extra she kept in her brassiere. Sure as hell nobody would be looking in there.
Truth was, she used to be able to organize her thoughts like that, until Floyd retired. Now he was always hanging around, talking to her, asking what she was doing. Every time he went out, which wasn't often enough for her taste, he would ask her if she needed anything and then look angry if she did. Sometimes he'd look angry if she didn't. Now she looked for errands for him, just to get a moment's peace. When she sent him off for milk this morning she could have lived without it. But she couldn't have stood listening to him complain about the bus ride to Atlantic City before it happened, not non-stop for the next two hours.
"You're creating your future," she told him. "Whatever you're thinking and feeling, that becomes your reality."
"Don't give me that shit," he'd said, putting on his coat and hat. He had been wearing that same damned hat with the stingy brim so long it had come back in style.
"It's the law of attraction," she'd continued. "You can deny it all you want but that don't mean it's not true. Everything coming into your life you are attracting into your life. You're like a magnet."
"Well, this magnet's going to attract some milk," he'd said before going out the door.
He had made fun of her ever since she first heard Oprah talking about The Secret but deep down she thought that maybe he believed her. Or would, if he would just give it a try. He would come home so angry about something that happened out there – the security guy asleep in the chair, or someone who wouldn't give his seat up on the subway – and she would tell him, "Every bad thing that comes into your life, you make happen."
Sometimes that really made Floyd angry. "Is that right? Every bad thing? I made happen every bad thing that came into my life, Marcy?" He would tower over her, breathing heavily, staring at the top of her lacquered hair until she was silent.
She looked closely at the big digits on the clock by the bed. It was almost 8:30 and she still had not done her makeup. From the drawer in the nightstand on her side of the bed she looked for her own pill organizer and then realized she had already taken it out. She put it under the light, right beside that picture of her two boys, smiling in the lap of a black Santa, and looked at Wednesday. There were still pills in the morning box but the evening box was empty. Maybe she took the evening pills by mistake. Not that it mattered 'cause they were basically the same. Or maybe she hadn't filled the PM part.
Looking at the rainbow-colored compartments (Wednesday was green, Thursday red) she thought of Wilson, who had the hardest time with his R's when he was little – "Weeding Wainbow," he would say about his favorite show, and his brother would laugh at him. She felt overcome for a moment and then heard her husband's keys in the door.
She took the morning pills, four altogether, as Floyd shouted at her from the kitchen.
"Do you know how much they wanted for a half-gallon of milk?"
She imagined his face as he said the price and the way he would look at her afterwards. He might be looking that way right now, even though she wasn't there.
"Cost of everything is going up," she yelled back. Then she stood and headed for the bathroom. "I got to get a move on."
"Ain't you even going to drink your milk?"
She heard him swear as she closed the bathroom door.
The bus driver turned out to be some white guy who'd been sleeping in the back while people waited outside. The whole bus was talking about it, even after they got out of the Holland Tunnel and were getting on the turnpike, people tsk-tsking and hmm-hmming until Floyd wanted to yell, "Who told you to stand out there in the first place? It's not even cold." But he kept quiet and sat by a window, alone thank you very much, though Tommy, who acted like he was Floyd's best friend, insisted on sitting right in front of him, while Marcy huddled on the other side with a bunch of ladies. They outnumbered the men five to one anyway; he let Tommy represent, going back and forth across the aisle like some congressman making a deal. Each time he went over to the ladies he would say something so low that Floyd couldn't hear and they would all laugh and holler.
"I think it's about time for some music," Tommy said after one of his sorties. He had a gym bag with him that said Mets on it, and from it he pulled a boom box that he tried to balance on the seatback in front of him. He pushed play and Johnnie Taylor started in on "Who's Making Love" and the ladies all laughed, even though the sound was kind of wobbly. From the front of the bus the driver said something; they could see him looking at them in the rear view mirror, but no one tried to hear him. In fact Tommy stood up, with the boom box on his shoulder, and started to shake it in the aisle, which made the driver get on the mike.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to sit down." He had some kind of accent, Russian or something, but no one really paid him any mind.
The hits kept coming; Tommy jammed the boom box between the headrest and the window so it wouldn't fall down and turned around to look at Floyd, but not before looking at the driver, who had his eyes on the road again.
"How 'bout a little taste?" Tommy said, taking a half-pint in a brown bag from the pocket of his jacket.
"Too early for me," Floyd said, looking out the window. To him it always looked like New Jersey was halfway through being torn down.
Across the aisle Marcy was in the middle of a conversation with the other ladies but she didn't feel quite right. It started as soon as she left the building; she had picked out a brooch to go with her blue blouse, a little gold tree with red apples on it, but she had left it sitting in front of the mirror. Now she felt naked, all that blue stretching out below her chin like an empty ocean almost and she felt like she was being pulled back from drowning each time one of them stopped talking. That meant somebody was supposed to say something; you were supposed to jump in like it was a game of double-Dutch.
"What I value most is the privacy," Marcy said, but no one answered. She had a feeling she had said that before. The topic was assisted living and how to know when you needed it.
"Until you wake up privately dead," said the lady in the Kente cloth. Marcy didn't remember meeting her before, a friend of Helen's was how she was introduced, but she didn't like her now. She had these gray and white streaks in her hair, extensions by the look of it, but it reminded Marcy of mud. Besides, she was probably the youngest woman of the bunch, what was she talking about dying for?
"My boy checks in on us every night," said Marcy and immediately wondered why she had. It wasn't true. Most times she had to call Eric and he never sounded too happy to hear from her. He did come to visit though, once a month at least. They saw less of him after his divorce, though you'd think it would be the other way around.
"Where are we?" she said suddenly, looking out the window. Everything looked the same.
"You keep asking that," the lady in the Kente cloth said, or maybe she said. Marcy wasn't looking at her and the music Tommy was playing made her feel lost.
"Sending this one out for all you ladies," said Tommy, like he was some deejay, and they all laughed but Marcy didn't think it was funny. It was that song about sitting on a park bench that always made her sad. "I see her face everywhere I go/on the street and even at the picture show/have you seen her?"
There was a hospital up there high on a hill and for a second she felt that the bus was going to take off and fly straight up to its doors. She closed her eyes and felt herself rise.
They parked in the lot of the Showboat casino. Though they could have gone anywhere they wanted, the thirty-odd passengers that disembarked made for the Showboat as if summoned, shuffling and limping toward the entrance in a broken conga line.
"No one says we got to go to this casino," Floyd said to the crowd of ladies leading the way.
"The Showboat has a Mardi Gras theme," said the lady in the Kente cloth. She turned around to give Floyd the fisheye, pulling down her glasses as she did. "Besides, we got coupons for the Showboat."
He fell in line sullenly beside Tommy who offered him another drink. Floyd took a swallow this time without pulling down the brown paper to see what it was. It tasted like mouthwash.
"Jesus, what the hell you drinking?"
"Little peppermint schnapps." Tommy tried to slap Floyd on the back but the big man danced away, handing the bottle back as he moved.
"What she mean by a 'Mardi Gras theme,' anyway?" Floyd said.
Tommy shrugged. "As long as they got free drinks and blackjack I don't much care."
Seagulls screamed overhead. Floyd saw his reflection scowling in the window of a parked Humvee. He went to New Orleans during Mardi Gras when he was in the Navy, how many years ago? He got lost and someone stole his wallet. A man dressed as a woman tried to put beads around his neck, he remembered. You could have your Mardi Gras.
Marcy was among the first of the women to enter the casino and the air conditioning hit her like a cold wave. "Good thing I remembered my shawl!" she said but no one answered. The music and the sound of the slot machines, dinging and ringing with sirens going off every five minutes as if some crime was being committed, swallowed her voice.
Marcy had thought to bring rolls of quarters and silver dollars. While the other ladies were getting change she was already pouring her silver into a red plastic cup provided to her by a girl in the shortest skirt she had ever seen.
"You must be freezing!" Marcy said but the girl didn't seem to hear her. Maybe she just got tired of people trying to talk to her.
The slots area had thousands of machines and at noon it was already half filled, mostly old-timers like her and Floyd. He and Tommy had set off in the other direction like there was a sign saying 'Men, That Way.' The carpets were in a pattern of red and orange and gold that reminded her of a kaleidoscope and the ceiling was made up to look like stained glass, though she knew real stained glass when she saw it and this wasn't it. She felt like if she didn't sit down she might just fall into the colors. She sat down at a quarter machine and began feeding it. She didn't know where the other ladies had gone and looking over her shoulder left her none the wiser.
"Y'all gonna have to find me," she said, and as if conjured, a different lady in a short skirt appeared.
"How you doing today?" she said. She had a tray filled with drinks and a notepad tucked into her belt. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Well I suppose you can!" Marcy turned in her chair to show her appreciation. "My name's Marcy by the way, I come here from Brooklyn with a bunch of folks from my church group."
"Now isn't that nice? My name's Kim Sue. What can I get you?"
Marcy smiled and opened her mouth. But she could not think of the names of any drinks, not just the fancy ones but any drink. She felt a trickle of sweat run down her back underneath her blouse.
"It's funny," she said, embarrassed. "My mind's just a blank today."
"Sure, no problem!" Kim Sue smiled back at her like one of those Chinese dolls, her name right there on her badge. "We have beer and wine and soda and mixed drinks." She kept smiling at Marcy and continued. "I could make you a nice white wine spritzer, if you like."
"Oh, that sounds nice," said Marcy, and it did sound nice, like a sprinkler in the summer time, the kind the boys used to play in. Kim Sue left and Marcy returned to the machine. Cherries and plums rolled past, never stopping at the same time.
Eric used to chase Wilson through the sprinklers in the park and sometimes when Marcy wasn't looking he would hold his little brother down and try to pull off his shorts in front of all the other children. She would get so mad at him, always teasing like that, knowing it would make Wilson cry and come looking for her, but she had a job then, looking after a little white boy named Oskar whose parents lived in Park Slope and worked all the time. Oskar's parents didn't mind too much when she brought her boys with her when she took him to the park. "As long as you remember," the father said, "that Oskar is your first priority."
Well of course he is, mister doctor man! Why would my own flesh and blood come before your little prince? Good gracious, the things that man would say. If the wife heard him she would weigh in and try to soften the blow. "What my husband means is that we don't want you to get too distracted. Three children is a handful."
Now that was the kind of thing only a white person would say. Where she came from, three children was just getting started, even if she was done after Wilson, something her own mother could never understand.
"Oh, don't worry, ma'am," Marcy would say. "I won't ever let Oskar out of my sight."
All these people thinking someone was going to steal their child, like the whole country had gone crazy. Soon they'd be putting their pictures on milk cartons and billboards and on TV during the news – "Have you seen Brandon?" Usually white kids. If a black kid went missing generally people knew who took him.
"Here you go, ma'am."
Kim Sue was back with her drink. It was in a big plastic cup with a straw that went in curlicues, like a roller coaster, like this was for a child. She started fishing in her coin cup.
"Drinks are complimentary, ma'am."
Like I didn't know that. She pulled out a Susan B. Anthony and put it on her tray. "That's for you," she said.
"Very nice of you, ma'am. And if you need anything else you just let me know."
She turned to leave and Marcy was afraid to see her go. "Kim Sue, it's like your momma gave you two names."
"Kim is my family name. Family name comes first in Korean."
"Is that right?" said Marcy. "Well I think family should come first, don't you?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Marcy thought that was something else she should write in her book but realized that she hadn't brought it with her, and then forgot what she had said. "But they probably don't spell it like that in Korea, do they? The Sue, I mean."
"No, ma'am, we have a different alphabet."
"Now isn't that something?"
She was balancing a tray full of drinks while she talked so Marcy let her go, disappearing into the big Tiffany lamp around them. A band was playing Dixieland and Marcy strained her eyes to see them. The music seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, "When the Saints Come Marching In."
"Let me tell you another," she said, sipping on her drink.
The lady at the machine next to her looked at Marcy and then moved away, taking her quarters with her. Marcy watched as the drink spun up the straw when she sucked. Here we go loop de loop.
Sometimes Eric would help her push the stroller as they went around the park, and Wilson would run so far ahead she would shout after him. "Don't go where I can't see you!" she'd holler, and Oskar, too big to be pushed around in a stroller, would try and stand up and yell after her. "Go where I can't see you!"
Wilson would hide like that at home as well; hide so good she couldn't find him sometimes. They were living in Prospect-Lefferts, more house than they needed but you could afford those big limestone buildings then, even on a Con Ed salary, and Wilson would go into different rooms and be so quiet that she would get hysterical, be practically beside herself by the time her husband got home. Then they would hear him laughing. "Got you!" he would say and emerge from the cupboard or from behind the sideboard and Floyd would get so mad. That one time he came out of her closet wearing her bra and Floyd just about went crazy; took off his belt and chased him.
She put in a coin and pulled the lever: a watermelon; a bell; the number seven in gold.
"What numbers are you playing today?"
She turned her head but nobody was there. Who had spoken? Just turning her head made the colors around her move and when she looked at the floor she saw the pattern there was moving too. It was like a flying carpet, the Vale of Cashmere –
The Vale of Cashmere! That was the name of that strange corner of the park where she took the boys now and then. They were getting older; other boys took the place of Oskar, and Eric got too big to want to be with them. But Wilson kept her company as she made the rounds, bought the kids ice cream and wiped their sticky hands. People used to call it The Swamp and there was a muddy pond okay and some hanging trees.
"How come you don't play with boys your own age?" one of the kids had asked him once.
"I just like to help my momma," he'd said.
He was the one who found out the real name of The Swamp, checked an old book out of the library and showed her on the map. There was a poem that went with it and Wilson stood up by the pond and put one finger in the air as he read: "Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere/With its roses the brightest the earth ever gave?"
Another babysitter saw them by the pond once and came over to warn them. "You shouldn't be down in there," she said, afraid to come too close with her stroller in front of her. "They say men get together down there."
And after that Marcy noticed them, lurking about, standing in the trees. Once when she came down with Wilson and a stroller two men ran out, going in different directions.
She didn't think about it again for years, until Wilson was grown and still living at home, and he came back one night that first time with his face all bloody, drunk or high on something and smiled at her, blood on his teeth.
"Hey, Momma, I been to the Vale of Cashmere!"
That's when Floyd said no more.
"What numbers are you playing today?"
She turned and the colors whooshed like a scarf being wrapped around her head. She saw her this time, a little woman, no bigger than a dragonfly like the ones the boys chased in the park, Wilson would put them in a jar with holes punched in the top, while Eric tried to cover it up with his hand so they would smother.
"I'm looking for three sevens," Marcy said to the dragonfly woman. "Are there some other numbers to play?"
"That is the question, isn't it?" said the faerie. "Are there other numbers to play?"
And then she flew away, just like a little hummingbird, and Marcy got up to follow her, passing into the pattern of colors and leaving her cup of coins behind.
Floyd went through all his money the first hour. Not all his money but all the money he'd meant to spend, the money he put in his shirt pocket, seemed to fly off the table. Dealer beat him every time: if Floyd had 18, the dealer had 19; if Floyd sat on a 19, the dealer hit him with two bricks.
"I guess this lady feels like she has to show us what a blackjack looks like," said Tommy, when the dealer drew her third in ten minutes. She apologized to them both, even though they didn't tip her, and Tommy's luck was better than hers: He doubled down twice and made a hundred bucks in the blink of an eye. All Floyd could do, once he had spent the money he had earmarked for this outing, was sit there and simmer in his resentment while Tommy's chip pile grew.
That was when Helen, the lady in the purple pantsuit, came and asked if he knew where Marcy was.
"I thought she was with you," said Floyd. It came out like an accusation.
"Well, we agreed to meet for lunch at three," she said, "but then nobody could find Marcy. We figured maybe you two went off together."
And that's how well you know us, Floyd thought. "Maybe she just went off to another casino by herself," he said. Even though he was losing, and wasn't even playing at the time, he didn't want to have to leave his spot and go look for his wife. "There's no law says we got to stay here."
"Blackjack," said the dealer, flipping another ace.
But after a minute he did get up to look, as he knew he would, leaving Tommy, who still had a hot hand and was no doubt wondered what all the fuss was about.
"Did you try the ladies' room?" Floyd asked Helen.
"That was one of the first places we looked. They have sofas in there, you know." She paused. "Do you think we should call security?"
The suggestion made his blood pressure rise. "No, I don't think we should call security. Christ sake, grown woman goes off for a few minutes and you want to call the cavalry?"
"Does she have a cell phone?"
"Our son gave her one but she couldn't figure out how to use it." Eric had given them each one last Christmas, and neither of them could figure out how to use it. By the time Floyd got the hang of it he realized that the only person he would call was his wife, which was kind of stupid since he saw her all the time anyway.
They looked all the places that they had already looked and the lady in the Kente cloth joined them, acting more concerned than Floyd felt. "We need a system," she said, as they circled the room for the second time. The place was more crowded than ever and Floyd could hardly hear what she was saying. "How about I go stake out the buffet and you stay here?" she suggested to Helen.
"How 'bout I go stake out the buffet?" Helen said. "I haven't had lunch yet."
Floyd said they could both go feed themselves and take their time doing it; Marcy would turn up. He stood like a sentinel beneath the bells and sirens of the Mardi Gras slots, scowling most of the time. He hated slot machines; there was no sport in it, as he often told his wife. With blackjack at least you were playing the odds. Slots to him was just dumb luck, like a rabbit betting it wouldn't get run over when it ran across the road. Twice he thought he saw his wife, and each time he took pleasure in anticipating just how much grief he was going to give her. But each time he was wrong.
By four o'clock they were back together, Tommy too, and they began to set out in search parties. They were a small group: most of the travelers didn't want to leave their stations, since the bus was scheduled to leave at six and this whole business had already cut into their time as it was. The lady in the Kente cloth, who finally introduced herself as Niobe, took charge. She contacted hotel security, who seemed to have some experience with old folks wandering off, and as the witching hour neared, and the day-trippers started heading back toward the bus, she went out and argued with the bus driver, who was pretty adamant about leaving on time.
"You can't just go off and leave an old lady alone," she scolded him. The engine was already running, gently shaking the bus, while the AC gusted out the door in heavy welcoming breaths.
"I won't be leaving her alone," the driver said. "I will be leaving you to find her."
He agreed to wait as they made one last search. A handful of them fanned out, going to neighboring casinos and restaurants, off the boardwalk and into the side streets. Floyd couldn't help but think that Marcy was messing with him the whole time, and when he saw the impatient faces of the other folks on the bus – they'd lost their money and had their fill, they just wanted to go home – he couldn't help but side with them.
As he wandered, most of the people he saw were wearing shorts and T-shirts. Used to be people would get dressed up to go someplace. And when did everybody get so fat? Walking down the boardwalk, bag of French fries in your hand, what did you expect? The new motto for the city was "Always Turned On," which he found kind of creepy. There was nothing that he saw that turned him on.
Doors were open, air conditioning blasting out, cooling nothing. Floyd took to popping into places and doing a quick look around, not even asking half the time if they'd seen anyone who looked like his wife. One, they couldn't hear you with all that noise and two, half of them couldn't speak English.
"You seen an old black lady?" he shouted at one girl scooping ice cream. Her nails were so long he figured they might end up in somebody's cone. "Blue shirt, about this high?"
She stared at him like he was the one with the language problem.
He kept walking. Going in and out of the summer sun was making him thirsty. He wished for the first time that Tommy was with him. That man would always stop for a drink. He saw people in those rolling chairs, being pushed by young people, girls sometimes. And you wonder why you so fat?
Down at one end of the boardwalk he found what looked like a real bar. The crowd had trickled off as the sun sank lower in the sky. Go on, get out of here. A lot of good you been. Floyd ducked inside and felt the rivers of sweat roll out from under his hat and chill on his face and neck. His glasses steamed as he took a seat at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. He perched on the stool and looked up at the game on TV. The waitress brought him his drink and man, did that taste good. No skimping on the gin, either. He forgot to ask her about Marcy. His wallet was bothering him; he felt like he was balancing on it. When the waitress asked him if he wanted to start a tab he simply nodded.
"You got a phone?" She pointed to an old-fashioned booth in the back, the kind Superman used to change in. The place was filling up, young couples waiting for dinner. Once inside the paneled wood booth he forgot who he was going to call. Eric, right. He searched the scraps of paper in his wallet for the number he never had cause to memorize and let it ring, go to voicemail, and then dialed again.
"This ain't no telemarketer."
"Hey, Pop." He did not sound happy to hear from him and Floyd had already put enough change in the machine so he cut straight to the point.
"We in Atlantic City and your mother's gone missing." He backtracked from there, explaining the whole afternoon in greater detail than Eric needed, but never did his son sound any more excited than Floyd felt. He asked the obvious questions – had they called the police? Who else was looking?
"Did she have her cell phone?" he asked, pointedly.
"That's why I was calling," Floyd said. "I figured maybe she'd called you."
Eric was silent. Floyd imagined him at home, still in his work clothes, the sound on the TV muted, his eyes on the game. From his perch in the booth Floyd could see the TV over the bar. Jeter was trying to steal.
"I'm sure she'll turn up, Pop. I mean, where's she gonna go?"
"I know that."
"You got your cell phone with you? So I can call you if she does?"
Floyd muttered something and got off the phone. That boy would go to his grave asking about those damn phones. He should just wrap them up and give them back to him for Christmas. Turn 'em into salt-and-pepper shakers.
When he got back to his seat at the bar Jeter got picked off and he ordered another drink. Now they could send the search party out for him. The tumblers were tall and when he turned in his seat he found he had company. Big old white dude with long hair and a pointed beard. He was sipping a Budweiser longneck and looking at the screen. His arms were covered in tattoos; dragons, snakes and skulls disappeared into his shirtsleeves.
"Fuckin' Yankees," he said and turned to look at Floyd. "Nice hat."
Floyd turned to face his own reflection in the mirror behind the bar. "You wouldn't believe how long I had this hat," he said.
"There isn't much I wouldn't believe," the man said.
They got to talking. Turned out he worked in a tattoo parlor on the boardwalk, which explained all the ink. Halfway through his second drink, Floyd was feeling generous in his opinions.
"Back in the day," he said, "man had a tattoo it meant he'd been someplace. In the service, in the joint, you know."
"I hear you," the man said. "These days it just means you been to the mall." He drained his beer and held up the empty. "Buy you a drink?"
"Let me buy you a drink," said Floyd, and pulled out the fat wallet that had been giving him such a pain and laid it on the counter. Soon he had the pictures out and was showing him snaps of Eric, bragging on his son's job even if he wasn't exactly sure what he did. Then one of the whole family, when everyone was young.
"Where's your other boy?" the stranger asked.
Floyd made a face like he was sucking on a lime. "Wilson got killed in a hold-up ten years ago," he said.
"Oh, man, I am sorry. They catch the guy who did it?"
"No, it was in Prospect Park one night. Lot of crime in there."
"That's why I could never live in the city," the man said, which struck Floyd as funny. Most people would be scared of this dude, even in Brooklyn.
"So what happens when folks get old?" said Floyd, changing the subject. "Maybe they don't want all those tattoos any more."
"Shit, you don't have to wait 'til you're old to regret something stupid you did." The man laughed and Floyd got a glimmer of a gold tooth in his head. "People come in all the time wanting to have tattoos taken off, usually the name of some girl that don't love them anymore."
"Can you do it?"
"Sure," the man said. "Hurts like hell and costs twice as much. But we can do it. Easier just to change it, though."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, there was this one girl who loved a guy named Chris and had it tattooed on her ass. Until she found Jesus and then we just added a 'T'."
He didn't smile at first and it took Floyd a minute to figure it was a joke. "Hey, I got one," Floyd said. The stranger's eyes gleamed in anticipation. "There was this guy who loved this old girl so much he had her name tattooed on his johnson."
"Now that's gotta hurt!"
"Hell, yeah." Floyd wiped his mouth. "Then they broke up, you know, and soon he started missing her real bad. So he went all over looking for her, from Wisconsin all the way down to Jamaica. Then he's in the bathroom one day and he looks over and he sees this other guy's dick." He stopped for a minute. The stranger kept staring at him. "Now I can't remember that girl's name."
"Is it important?"
"Yeah, it's the whole punch line."
"Uh, oh. Better have another drink."
Floyd felt flushed and excused himself to go to the bathroom. There he stared straight ahead at the wall and read all the graffiti as if looking for a message. And by the time he got back to the bar, he was not surprised to see the stranger was gone and with him, Floyd's wallet, though all Floyd could feel was a keen sense of disappointment: He remembered the end of the joke now. He had remembered that old girl's name.


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Join us for in-store sampling and specials on select Dr. Bronner's products! Feel the love with our floral, fresh rose-scented bar and liquid pure-castile soaps. Taste the rich, nutty flavor of our , Organic Virgin Coconut Oils, good for sautéing-baking-moisutirizing (we have recipe booklets too!). And don't forget to try our new Organic Magic Balms, which comes in two varieties: Baby-Unscented to provide instant relief and protection from wind-cold-clothing that has rubbed you raw, and Arnica-Menthol to help cool and soothe sore muscles and achy joints. Take home coupons and samples while supplies last! All-One!
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GEORGETOWN, Del. (AP) — An 8-foot tall whipping post was removed from a Delaware county courthouse square Wednesday after activists said the post was a reminder of racial discrimination.
The post outside the Sussex County Courthouse in Georgetown was removed after an hour and a half of excavation and put in storage unit with other historical artifacts.
The Delaware Division of Historical and Cultural Affairs said the post was used to bind and whip people publicly for committing crimes up until 1952. However, Black people were disproportionately punished, according to the historical group.
The group said the post was a "cold deadpan display" that didn't "adequately account for the traumatic legacy it represents."


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DMW presents the official music video for Instagram sensational comedian, Broda Shaggi's latest single "Oya Hit Me".
The new 30 Billion Gang, Broda Shaggi as finally released his anticipated video for his hit single 'Oya Hit Me' which was produced by Masterkraft and Aunty Shaggi the interviewer was the one on the hook of the song that spiced it up.
The video is a funny one that will excites you with cameo appearance of Mc Lively, Nedu Wazobiafm, Josh Toofuny and some other Instagram comedians. It was shot by Avalon Okpe
Watch and Enjoy the visual below


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The thing is, I know Jesse, kinda. I mean, I don't "know him, know him"... We send each other emails throughout the day comparing blog notes, comments and follower tips. I know him enough that he actually let me "friend him" on Facebook. So it's not like I've formed this fake image to go along with his blog the way I've done with other bloggers who don't post their photo on their blog profiles.
There's just something about his blog name that's hot-ish. I guess I can compare it to names like Ben and Adam are too. I have no way of explaining this other than I had several crushes on stars and kids in school who were named Ben and Adam.