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Editor's Life: 6 Suggestions When Submitting Your Work for Publication
|And apparently, are also boys with spiky orange hair.
I have been living much more as an editor recently than as a writer.
This is okay because I realize life is never perfectly balanced--there are times when you are heavy on one thing, light on another. I try to look at my life's balance over a year and not a month.
This month has been all about Crab Creek Review & the upcoming Fire On Her Tongue anthology. Both publications had deadlines on Monday, it was nutty. Now there's a little rest period while others proof and do corrections. Ahhh...
Before becoming an editor, I thought there was a lot of mystery behind literary journals. There's not. There's a lot of work, (unpaid work), loose ends, reading, following up, decision making, and dealing with finances.
Here are some things I've learned and might help you as you submit--
1) Professional over quirky is better.
I know we're writers/artists, but I prefer a cover letter that is easy to read and to the point, not anything on purple-scented paper or with weird images embedded in the email submissions.
I am more likely to take a writer seriously if they can take themselves seriously.
Personal Faux-Pas as Young Writer (part 1)-- Handwriting a giant "Enjoy these poems!" and making a unique drawing on a cover letter to the Paris Review (age 23).
2) Read the journal or learn about the journal before you submit. If you're awesome, subscribe or buy a sample copy.
This little thing will save you time and money in the long run and may introduce you to a new poet or writer, or a journal you'll want to receive at your house.
Personal Faux-Pas as Young Writer (part 2)-- Submitted poems to Parnassus: Poetry in Review without *getting* that it publishes REVIEWS and critical writing, not poems. Duh.
3) Read the submissions guidelines and follow them.
While it might feel like jumping through hoops, all the guidelines were put into place for a reason. I know ours were and they help us when we read your work.
Personal Faux-Pas as a Young Writer (part 3): Too many mistakes to name. I've sent too many poems, sent them to the wrong address, sent them the wrong time of the year, yadda, yadda, yadda.
4) Try not to take things personally.
If they don't get back to you on a timely basis, most likely they are overworked, stressing out and behind. They most likely aren't inconsiderate, just busy and overwhelmed. I would guess the majority of literary journals the editors are unpaid (or paid little) and that they have another job, commitment, or are raising a family.
The editors at Crab Creek Review have full-time jobs, part-time jobs, little kids at home, big kids at home or in college, are authors/writers themselves, other commitments, AND are all working to publish this journal on a volunteer basis.
Realizing how much there is to do at a literary journal has allowed me to submit without being annoyed at how long it took to hear from a journal, etc. because I realize how much there is to do AND read.
Personal Faux-Pas as Young Editor (part 1): Thinking I would never get behind in reading submissions, then did. More than once.
5) In you simultaneously submit, let journals know asap if your poem or story is accepted elsewhere.
This was my surprise as an editor. Not knowing I'd fall in love with poems and stories, then when accepting them, learn they are not available. I hadn't realized how attached I'd get to someone's work, how disappointed I'd feel when we couldn't publish it.
When this happens, I don't hold a grudge against the writer. I know we're doing the best we can and sometimes we forgot, make mistakes, and cannot be perfectly organized. I have sim-subbed and haven't meant to, but it just came down to bad record keeping on my part (Personal Faux-Pas part 4), so I tend to be easy on writers. Other editors may not be so easy, just be aware of that.
6) If the journal takes 4 poems, submit 3 poems you think they'd publish and one poem you think they wouldn't.
This sounds like bizarre advice, but my friend (and poet/editor/publisher) Lana Ayers gave me this and it's made a huge difference. Oddly, it seems the one poem I think a journal won't like, is the one they take.
I'm not sure why this is? Maybe we read a journal and see lots of poems on herons and think, "Oh, they'd love my heron poem" and the editor is in her office saying, "Geez, enough with the heron poems, people!" So the 4th poems, which has nothing do with herons or anything else the magazine has published recently, is accepted.
I'm not sure. Just it's a good mentality as a writer, it's not your job to try to read the editor's mind, it's your job to do good work and submit the best of it.
Good luck!


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Message Board
Richard Barre Message Board
Talk about the novels, new and used books that Barre has written!
Author Barre's Book Reviews
Burning Moon
Capra Press, May 2003, 25.95, 330 pp. ISBN 1592660118 Eight months ago, near San Miguel Island off the coast of California, Jimmy Tien and his seven month pregnant girlfriend Wen are on their boat when something causes it to disappear. Eight months later, a fishing trawler using nets finds the Harmony and scuba divers searching the boat underwater conclude it met with an accident. Jimmy's father, native born Vietnamese Vinh Tran Tien, is not sa...
Echo Bay
Capra Press, May 2004, 25.95, 354 pp. ISBN 1592660428 Once he was a star in the skiing world, thought to be sure gold medal winner at the Olympics but an injured knee put an end to Shawn Rainey's dreams of fame and fortune. After his divorce his ex-wife Loren has custody of the children and he has visitation rights until Loren and his ex-manager Terry set him up so that he can't even be in the same state with his children. He's working in a dea...

subset: commoncrawl


text: Three Bedroom, Two Bath Condo at Shipyard Village-A with partial ocean views. Features 1 king bed, 1 queen bed, 2 twin beds, a full kitchen, a dining area, a living area with a 50″ television and a DVD player, a 42″ television in the master bedroom, a washer/dryer, a balcony, and an on-site pool. Resort Amenities Include 4 centrally located golf courses, indoor pool, outdoor pool with lazy river and play plaza, health and fitness center, bike rentals and bike trails, tennis courts, fishing lake (fishing license required), business center, private beach access, wireless internet access, day spa, and Starbucks.


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No job now,
Provides the pay,
To let me find,
A place to stay.
Many folks with big incomes are responding to the tensions of America's growing economic inequality by moving into gated communities. This isn't new, just growing more common. Ten percent of us are already gated in one way or another.
The recession has added further impetus to the nation's housing challenges both inside and outside those gates. Foreclosures aren't as common as they were a few years ago when the housing bubble burst, but they're still converting more homeowners into renters. And the dwindling of the middle class keeps countless emerging young adults from ever gaining their own place.
Veterans, whom we once supported with yellow magnets, are frequently the worst off. The overall veteran homelessness rate declined last year, but the rate for Iraq and Afghanistan vets doubled between 2010 and 2012. Those former troops — many of whom returned with fearsome disabilities — are too often homeless and hopeless with no avenue into the commercial housing market
And commercial is exactly what our housing market has become. It aims mostly at upper-income buyers these days, since that's where the money is. The old mass housing market that blossomed during the middle class's 20th-century heyday is but a distant memory.
Federal housing subsidies, meanwhile, also smile more warmly upon the rich. The federal government spends more on housing programs that benefit households earning $100,000 or more per year than on people who make less than that — and presumably are the ones who really need help. That includes $35 billion right off the top that goes to families with over $200,000 in income just for their mortgage interest tax deduction. Renters need not apply.
The result of these various trends is that the prosperous are further isolating themselves physically, as well as economically, from the rest of us. And as more and more people lose their homes or fail to transition from renting to owning, they're building up less equity. That will haunt them in later life when the chasm between haves and have-nots will continue to widen unless we change course.


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So a funny thing happened on the way to the forum…
If you get that joke, consider yourself a musical theater geek.
(You're in good company here) 🙂
Clearly, I'm in a mood tonight.
This weekend was one for the books, y'all.
Let's just say, I ended Saturday night at a Brazilian dance bar/tin roofed lean-to/shanty in the heart of Brooklyn that was cash only, blasting latin pop music, and decorated in a way that would make Bob Marley proud.
The drinks were strong, but not nearly as strong as the staunch body odors wafting through the tightly packed dance floor.
But surprisingly, that was not the most noteworthy part of my night.
Rewind about 6 hours. At a beer hall with my friends. We were with a group of about 20, but I found myself at an intimate table in the back with 3 of my friends and one of their colleagues. Three boys and two girls.
And I found myself and my gal pal ( 🙂 ) listening to a heated debate the boys were having about…religion.
"Religion is dead in America." "It's nothing more than organized hope." "It's designed to just control people." "Full of bigots and racists."
Yeah. It was uncomfortable. Tense. One guy was sticking up for faith, and the colleague was on the attack.
I mean, my friends are New Yorkers. They are not "religious." I would refer to them as secular. Nothing wrong with that! I love them, they respect my faith, I don't try to push it on them, it's just kind of a non-issue. So I was quite surprised when this passionate argument was breaking out across the table.
I stayed out of the debate…but it definitely stuck with me.
And in the cab ride back to the city, I couldn't help but replay that conversation in my mind.
"Religion is dead in America."
There are times – and this is one of them – that I have to remember where I live.
New York City is not a microcosm of the United States as a whole. It is an entity unto itself. A unique beast, if you will.
This really struck me – visually – as my cab was crossing over the Brooklyn Bridge. It's like this other-worldly, threatening, mass of buildings rises from the water. The island of Manhattan is a force to be reckoned with. From the backseat of my cab, I truly appreciated how stunning it is, especially at night with the twinkling lights. Outside my window was an iconic snapshot.
But it is not a snapshot of the rest of the country.
Religion – and faith – is not dead.
I'm just living in a city where it's harder to see.
But, I'm going to be really honest. Thinking back to how that conversation played out, I felt really convicted.
I could have refuted their claims and fought back and really presented my case. I could have sent a strong message. I could have done or said a lot of different things….but I didn't.
I just kept my mouth shut. I rationalized it in my head that, Oh, I'm not even in this conversation. They're talking religion and politics…not something I want to entangle myself in.
But coming home, I realized…I am part of the problem.
How am I living my faith?
Sure, my friends know I go to church every Sunday and that I am a Christian. But Jeez Louise, my friend's colleague hangs out with us for one night and proclaims that "religion is dead?!" Clearly, I am not doing my job very well.
Maybe I need to be a little more outspoken. I always say that I try to show my faith in my actions rather than tell my faith in my words. But perhaps I need to speak up a little bit.
Politeness and being quiet, that doesn't encourage others who may also feel like they're alone in their beliefs and therefore can't speak up.
I don't know where this is going…I kind feel like this is the scene from Les Mis where they're barricading the Parisian streets singing, "Do you hear the people sing, singing the songs of angry men…"
Boy, I really am a musical theater nerd.
I'm not trying to start a revolution here. But I do feel personally responsible for this guy's perception that faith is dead.
So I'm going to take a long, hard look at how I'm living my life. Because, Leapin' Lizzards, if someone can literally be sitting across a table from me and proclaim that, then something's gotta change.
Wearing a cross necklace just isn't going to cut it anymore.
Not in today's cultural climate. Not when there's so much at stake…
Now, please excuse me as I go and listen to some show tunes and order a WWJD bracelet.
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Twitter has implemented DMARC, a standard for preventing email spoofing, in order to make it harder for attackers to send phishing emails that appear to come from twitter.com addresses.
Twitter users are constantly targeted in phishing attacks that try to pass rogue emails as official communications from the company. These phishing emails direct users to fake Twitter websites in order to steal their login credentials.
"Earlier this month, we began using a new technology called DMARC that makes it extremely unlikely that most of our users will see any email pretending to be from a Twitter.com address. DMARC is a relatively new security protocol created by a group of organizations to help reduce the potential for email-based abuse," said Josh Aberant, Twitter's postmaster, Thursday in a blog post.
DMARC, short for "Domain-based Message Authentication, Reporting & Conformance," is a standard for implementing the SPF (Sender Policy Framework) and DKIM (DomainKeys Identified Mail) email message validation and authentication systems.
The technologies can be used to verify that an email with a sender address of, for example, twitter.com actually came from servers authorized to send email on behalf of twitter.com. The goal of DMARC is to achieve a uniform implementation of these systems among the top email services providers and other companies that would benefit from email validation.
DMARC is supported by all four major email providers—Google (Gmail), Microsoft (Outlook.com/Hotmail), Yahoo (Yahoo Mail) and AOL. It has also been implemented by services like Facebook, PayPal, Amazon and now Twitter.
While Twitter's support for DMARC will help email providers block messages with forged @twitter.com addresses from reaching the inboxes of many users, it won't prevent phishing emails that masquerade as Twitter communications but have non-twitter.com sender addresses. This means that users should remain vigilant and scrutinize all details of emails received from Twitter before acting on their instructions.
DMARC celebrated its one-year anniversary earlier this month, but according to DMARC.org, the industry group that oversees the standard's development and adoption, it already helps protect 60 percent of the world's email boxes from spam and phishing. More than 325 million spoofed messages were rejected in November and December 2012 because leading email providers and email senders implemented DMARC, the group said on its website.


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MR. R. H. HORNE, the author of "Orion," has, of late years, acquired a high and extensive home reputation, although, as yet, he is only partially known in America. He will be remembered, however, as the author of a very well-written Introduction to Black's Translation of Schlegel's "Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature," and as a contributor with Wordsworth, Hunt, Miss Barrett, and others, to "Chaucer Modernized." He is the author, also, of "Cosmo de Medici," of "The Death of Marlowe," and, especially, of "Gregory the Seventh," a fine tragedy, prefaced with an "Essay on Tragic Influence." "Orion" was originally advertised to be sold for a farthing; and, at this price, three large editions were actually sold. The fourth edition, (a specimen of which now lies before us) was issued at a shilling, and also sold . A fifth is promised at half a crown; this likewise, with even a sixth at a crown, may be disposed of — partly through the intrinsic merit of the work itself — but, chiefly, through the ingenious novelty of the original price.
We have been among the earliest readers of Mr. Horne among the most earnest admirers of his high genius; — for a man of high, of the highest genius, he unquestionably is. With an eager wish to do justice to his "Gregory the Seventh," we have never yet found exactly that opportunity we desired. Meantime, we looked, with curiosity, for what the British critics would say of a work which, in the boldness of its conception, and in the fresh originality of its management, would necessarily fall beyond the routine of their customary verbiage. We saw nothing, however, that either could or should be understood — nothing, certainly, that was worth understanding. The tragedy itself was, unhappily, not devoid of the ruling cant of the day, and its critics (that cant incarnate) took their cue from some of its infected passages, and proceeded forthwith to rhapsody and æsthetics, by way of giving [page 426:] a common-sense public an intelligible idea of the book. By the "cant of the day" we mean the disgusting practice of putting on the airs of an owl, and endeavoring to look miraculously wise; — the affectation of second sight — of a species of ecstatic prescience — of an intensely bathetic penetration into all sorts of mysteries, psychological ones in especial; — an Orphic — an ostrich affectation, which buries its head in balderdash, and, seeing nothing itself, fancies, therefore, that its preposterous carcass is not a visible object of derision for the world at large.
Of "Orion" itself, we have, as yet, seen few notices in the British periodicals, and these few are merely repetitions of the old jargon. All that has been said, for example, might be summed up in some such paragraph as this:
" 'Orion' is the earnest outpouring of the oneness of the psychological MAN. It has the individuality of the true SINGLENESS. It is not to be regarded as a Poem, but as a WORK — as a multiple THEOGONY — as a manifestation of the WORKS and the DAYS. It is a pinion in the PROGRESS — a wheel in the MOVEMENT that moveth ever and goeth alway a mirror of SELF -INSPECTION, held up by the SEER of the Age essential — of the Age in esse — for the SEERS of the Ages possible — in posse. We hail a brother in the work."
Of the mere opinions of the donkeys who bray thus — of their mere dogmas and doctrines, literary, Æsthetical, or what not — we know little, and, upon our honor, we wish to know less. Occupied, Laputically, in their great work of a progress that never progresses, we take it for granted, also, that they care as little about ours. But whatever the opinions of these people may be — however portentous the "IDEA " which they have been so long threatening to "evolve" — we still think it clear that they take a very roundabout way of evolving it. The use of Language is in the promulgation of Thought. If a man — if an Orphicist — or a SEER — or whatever else he may choose to call himself, while the rest of the world calls him an ass — if this gentleman have an idea which he does not understand himself, the best thing he can do is to say nothing about it; for, of course, he can entertain no hope that what he, the SEER, cannot comprehend, should be comprehended by the mass of common humanity; but if he have an idea which [page 427:] is actually intelligible to himself, and if he sincerely wish to render it intelligible to others, we then hold it as indisputable that he should employ those forms of speech which are the best adapted to further his object. He should speak to the people in that people's ordinary tongue. He should arrange words, such as are habitually employed for the several preliminary and introductory ideas to be conveyed he should arrange them in collocations such as those in which we are accustomed to see those words arranged.
But to all this the Orphicist thus replies: "I am a SEER. My IDEA — the idea which by Providence I am especially commissioned to evolve — is one so vast — so novel — that ordinary words, in ordinary collocations, will be insufficient for its comfortable evolution." Very true. We grant the vastness of the Idea — it is manifested in the sucking of the thumb — but, then, if ordinary language be insufficient — the ordinary language which men understand — à fortiori will be insufficient that inordinate language which no man has ever understood, and which any well-educated baboon would blush in being accused of understanding. The "Seer," therefore, has no resource but to oblige mankind by holding his tongue, and suffering his Idea to remain quietly "unevolved," until some Mesmeric mode of intercommunication shall be invented, whereby the antipodal brains of the Seer and of the man of Common Sense shall be brought into the necessary rapport. Meantime we earnestly ask if bread-and-butter be the vast Idea in question — if bread-and-butter be any portion of this vast Idea; for we have often observed that when a Seer has to speak of even so usual a thing as bread-and-butter, he can never be induced to mention it outright. He will, if you choose, say any thing and every thing but bread-and-butter. He will consent to hint at buckwheat cake. He may even accommodate you so far as to insinuate oatmeal porridge — but, if bread-and-butter be really the matter intended, we never yet met the Orphicist who could get out the three individual words "bread-and-butter."
We have already said that "Gregory the Seventh" was, unhappily, infected with the customary cant of the day — the cant of the muddle-pates who dishonor a profound and ennobling philosophy by styling themselves transcendentalists. In fact, there are few highly sensitive or imaginative intellects for which [page 428:] the vortex of mysticism, in any shape, has not an almost irresistible influence, on account of the shadowy confines which separate the Unknown from the Sublime. Mr. Horne, then, is, in some measure, infected. The success of his previous works had led him to attempt, zealously, the production of a poem which should be worthy his high powers. We have no doubt that he revolved carefully in mind a variety of august conceptions, and from these thoughtfully selected what his judgment, rather than what his impulses, designated as the noblest and the best. In a word, he has weakly yielded his own poetic sentiment of the poetic — yielded it, in some degree, to the pertinacious opinion, and talk, of a certain junto by which he is surrounded — a junto of dreamers whose absolute intellect may, perhaps, compare with his own very much after the fashion of an ant-hill with the Andes. By this talk — by its continuity rather than by any other quality it possessed — he has been badgered into the attempt at commingling the obstinate oils and waters of Poetry and of Truth. He has been so far blinded as to permit himself to imagine that a maudlin philosophy (granting it to be worth enforcing) could be enforced by poetic imagery, and illustrated by the jingling of rhythm; or, more unpardonably, he has been induced to believe that a poem, whose single object is the creation of Beauty — the novel collocation of old forms of the Beautiful and of the Sublime — could be advanced by the abstractions of a maudlin philosophy.
But the question is not even this. It is not whether it be not possible to introduce didacticism, with effect, into a poem, or possible to introduce poetical images and measures, with effect, into a didactic essay. To do either the one or the other, would be merely to surmount a difficulty — would be simply a feat of literary sleight of hand. But the true question is, whether the author who shall attempt either feat, will not be laboring at a disadvantage — will not be guilty of a fruitless and wasteful expenditure of energy. In minor poetical efforts, we may not so imperatively demand an adherence to the true poetical thesis. We permit trifling to some extent, in a work which we consider a trifle at best. Although we agree, for example, with Coleridge, that poetry and passion are discordant, yet we are willing to permit Tennyson to bring, to the intense passion which prompted his [page 429:] "Locksley Hall," the aid of that terseness and pungency which are derivable from rhythm and from rhyme. The effect he produces, however, is a purely passionate, and not, unless in detached passages of this magnificent philippic, a properly poetic effect. His "Œnone," on the other hand, exalts the soul not into passion, but into a conception of pure beauty, which in its elevation its calm and intense rapture — has in it a foreshadowing of the future and spiritual life, and as far transcends earthly passion as the holy radiance of the sun does the glimmering and feeble phosphorescence of the glow-worm. His "Morte D'Arthur" is in the same majestic vein. The "Sensitive Plant" of Shelley is in the same sublime spirit. Nor, if the passionate poems of Byron excite more intensely a greater number of readers than either the "œ none" or the "Sensitive Plant" does this indisputable fact prove any thing more than that the majority of mankind are more susceptible of the impulses of passion than of the impressions of beauty. Readers do exist, however, and always will exist, who, to hearts of maddening fervor, unite, in perfection, the sentiment of the beautiful that divine sixth sense which is yet so faintly understood that sense which phrenology has attempted to embody in its organ of ideality — that sense which is the basis of all Fourier's dreams — that sense which speaks of God through his purest, if not his sole attribute — which proves, and which alone proves his existence.
To readers such as these — and only to such as these — must be left the decision of what the true Poesy is. And these with no hesitation — will decide that the origin of Poetry lies in a thirst for a wilder Beauty than Earth supplies — that Poetry itself is the imperfect effort to quench this immortal thirst by novel combinations of beautiful forms (collocations of forms) physical or spiritual, and that this thirst when even partially allayed — this sentiment when even feebly meeting response — produces emotion to which all other human emotions are vapid and insignificant.
We shall now be fully understood. If, with Coleridge, who, however erring at times, was precisely the mind fitted to decide a question such as this — if, with him, we reject passion from the true — from the pure poetry — if we reject even passion — if we discard as feeble, as unworthy the high spirituality of the theme, [page 430:] (which has its origin in a sense of the Godhead) if we dismiss even the nearly divine emotion of human love — that emotion which, merely to name, now causes the pen to tremble — with how much greater reason shall we dismiss all else? And yet there are men who would mingle with the august theme the merest questions of expediency — the cant topics of the day — the doggerel æsthetics of the time — who would trammel the soul in its flight to an ideal Helusion, by the quirks and quibbles of chopped logic. There are men who do this lately there are a set of men who make a practice of doing this — and who defend it on the score of the advancement of what they suppose to be truth. Truth is, in its own essence, sub-lime — but her loftiest sublimity, as derived from man's clouded and erratic reason, is valueless — is pulseless — is utterly ineffective when brought into comparison with the unerring sense of which we speak; yet grant this truth to be all which its seekers and worshipers pretend — they forget that it is not truth, per se, which is made their thesis, but an argumentation, often maudlin and pedantic, always shallow and unsatisfactory (as from the mere inadaptation of the vehicle it must be) by which this truth, in casual and indeterminate glimpses, is or is not — rendered manifest.
We have said that, in minor poetical efforts, we may tolerate some deflection from the true poetical thesis; but when a man of the highest powers sets himself seriously to the task of constructing what shall be most worthy those powers, we expect that he shall so choose his theme as to render it certain that he labor not at disadvantage. We regret to see any trivial or partial imperfection of detail; but we grieve deeply when we detect any radical error of conception.
In setting about "Orion," Mr. Horne proposed to himself, (in accordance with the views of his junto) to "elaborate a morality" — he ostensibly proposed this to himself — for, in the depths of his heart, we know that he wished all juntos and all moralities in Erebus. In accordance with the notions of his set, however, he felt a species of shame-facedness in not making the enforcement of some certain dogmas or doctrines (questionable or unquestionable) about Progress, the obvious or apparent object of his poem. This shame-facedness is the cue to the concluding sentence of the [page 431:] Preface. "Meantime, the design of this poem of 'Orion' is far from being intended as a mere echo or reflection of the past, and is, in itself, and in other respects, a novel experiment upon the mind of a nation." Mr. Horne conceived, in fact, that to compose a poem merely for that poem's sake — and to acknowledge such to be his purpose — would be to subject himself to the charge of imbecility — of triviality — of deficiency in the true dignity and force; but, had he listened to the dictates of his own soul, he could not have failed to perceive, at once, that under the sun there exists no work more intrinsically noble, than this very poem written solely for the poem's sake.
But let us regard "Orion" as it is. It has an under and an upper current of meaning; in other words, it is an allegory. But the poet's sense of fitness (which, under no circumstances of mere conventional opinion, could be more than half subdued) has so far softened this allegory as to keep it, generally, well subject to the ostensible narrative. The purport of the moral conveyed is by no means clear — showing conclusively that the heart of the poet was not with it. It vacillates. At one time a certain set of opinions predominate — then another. We may generalize the subject, however, by calling it a homily against supineness or apathy in the cause of human progress, and in favor of energetic action for the good of the race. This is precisely the idea of the present school of canters. How feebly the case is made out in the poem — how insufficient has been all Mr. Horne's poetical rhetoric in convincing even himself — may be gleaned from the unusual bombast, rigmarole, and mystification of the concluding paragraph, in which he has thought it necessary to say something very profound, by way of putting the sting to his epigram, the point to his moral. The words put us much in mind of the "nonsense verses" of Du Bartas.
And thus, in the end, each soul may to itself,
With truth before it as its polar guide,
Become both Time and Nature, whose fixt paths
Are spiral, and when lost will find new stars,
And in the universal MOVEMENT join.
The upper current of the theme is based upon the various Greek fables about Orion. The author, in his brief preface, speaks about "writing from an old Greek fable" — but his story is, more [page 432:] properly, a very judicious selection and modification of a great variety of Greek and Roman fables concerning Orion and other personages with whom these fables bring Orion in collision. And here we have only to object that the really magnificent abilities of Mr. Horne might have been better employed in an entirely original conception. The story he tells is beautiful indeed, — and nil tetigit, certainly, quod non ornavit — but our memories — our classic recollections are continually at war with his claims to regard, and we too often find ourselves rather speculating upon what he might have done, than admiring what he has really accomplished.
The narrative, as our poet has arranged it, runs nearly thus: Orion, hunting on foot amid the mountains of Chios, encounters Artemis (Diana) with her train. The goddess, at first indignant at the giant's intrusion upon her grounds, becomes, in the second place, enamored. Her pure love spiritualizes the merely animal nature of Orion, but does not render him happy. He is filled with vague aspirations and desires. He buries himself in sensual pleasures. In the mad dreams of intoxication, he beholds a vision of Merope, the daughter of Œnopion, king of Chios. She is the type of physical beauty. She cries in his ear, "Depart from Artemis! She loves thee not — thou art too full of earth." Awaking, he seeks the love of Merope. It is returned. Œnopion, dreading the giant and his brethren, yet scorning his pretensions, temporizes. He consents to bestow upon Orion the hand of Merope, on condition of the island being cleared, within six days, of its savage beasts and serpents. Orion, seeking the aid of his brethren, accomplishes the task. Œnopion again hesitates. Enraged, the giants make war upon him, and carry off the princess. In a remote grove Orion lives, in bliss, with his earthly love. From this delirium of happiness, he is aroused by the vengeance of Œnopion, who causes him to be surprised while asleep, and deprived of sight. The princess, being retaken, immediately forgets and deserts her lover, who, in his wretchedness, seeks, at the suggestion of a shepherd, the aid of Eos (Aurora) who, also becoming enamored of him, restores his sight. The love of Eos, less earthly than that of Merope, less cold than that of Artemis, fully satisfies his soul. He is at length happy. But the jealousy of Artemis [page 433:] destroys him. She pierces him with her arrows while in the very act of gratefully renovating her temple at Delos. In despair, Eos flies to Artemis, reproves her, represents to her the bareness of her jealousy and revenge, softens her, and obtains her consent to unite with herself — with Eos — in a prayer to Zeus (Jupiter) for the restoration of the giant to life. The prayer is heard. Orion is not only restored to life, but rendered immortal, and placed among the constellations, where he enjoys forever the pure affection of Eos, and becomes extinguished, each morning, in her rays.
In ancient mythology, the giants are meant to typify various energies of Nature. Pursuing, we suppose, this idea, Mr. Horne has made his own giants represent certain principles of human action or passion. Thus Orion himself is the Worker or Builder, and is the type of Action or Movement itself — but, in various portions of the poem, this allegorical character is left out of sight, and that of speculative philosophy takes its place; a mere consequence of the general uncertainty of purpose, which is the chief defect of the work. Sometimes we even find Orion a Destroyer in place of a Builder up — as, for example, when he destroys the grove about the temple of Artemis, at Delos. Here he usurps the proper allegorical attribute of Rhexergon, (the second of the seven giants named) who is the Breaker-down, typifying the Revolutionary Principle. Autarces, the third, represents the Mob, or, more strictly, Waywardness — Capricious Action. Harpax, the fourth, serves for Rapine — Briastor, the fifth, for Brute Force — Encolyon, the sixth, the "Chainer of the Wheel," for Conservatism — and Akinetos, the seventh, and most elaborated, for Apathy. He is termed "The Great Unmoved," and in his mouth is put all the "worldly wisdom," or selfishness, of the tale. The philosophy of Akinetos is, that no merely human exertion has any appreciable effect upon the Movement; and it is amusing to perceive how this great Truth (for most sincerely do we hold it to be such) speaks out from the real heart of the poet, through his Akinetos, in spite of all endeavor to overthrow it by the example of the brighter fate of Orion.
The death of Akinetos is a singularly forcible and poetic conception, and will serve to show how the giants are made to perish, generally, during the story, in agreement with their allegorical [page 434:] natures. The "Great Unmoved" quietly seats himself in a cave after the death of all his brethren, except Orion.
Thus Akinetos sat from day to day,
Absorbed in indolent sublimity,
Reviewing thoughts and knowledge o'er and o'er;
And now he spake, now sang unto himself,
Now sank to brooding silence. From above,
While passing, Time the rock touch'd, and it oozed
Petrific drops — gently at first and slow.
Reclining lonely in his fixed repose,
The Great Unmoved unconsciously became
Attached to that he pressed; and soon a part
Of the rock. There clung th' excrescence, till strong hands,
Descended from Orion, made large roads,
And built steep walls, squaring down rocks for use.
The italicized conclusion of this fine passage affords an instance, however, of a very blameable concision, too much affected throughout the poem.
In the deaths of Autarces, Harpax, and Encolyon, we recognize the same exceeding vigor of conception. These giants conspire against Orion, who seeks the aid of Artemis, who, in her turn, seeks the assistance of Phoibos (Phœbus.) The conspirators are in a cave, with Orion.
Now Phoibos thro' the cave
Sent a broad ray! and lo! the solar beam
Filled the great cave with radiance equable
And not a cranny held one speck of shade.
A moony halo round Orion came,
As of some pure protecting influence,
While with intense light glared the walls and roof,
The heat increasing. The three giants stood
With glazing eyes, fixed. Terribly the light
Beat on the dazzled stone, and the cave hummed
With reddening heat, till the red hair and beard
Of Harpax showed no difference from the rest,
Which once were iron-black. The sullen walls
Then smouldered down to steady oven heat,
Like that with care attain'd when bread has ceased
Its steaming and displays an angry tan.
The appalled faces of the giants showed
Full consciousness of their immediate doom.
And soon the cave a potter's furnace glow'd
Or kiln for largest bricks, and thus remained
The while Orion, in his halo clasped
By some invisible power, beheld the clay
Of these his early friends change. Life was gone.
Now sank the heat — the cave-walls lost their glare,
The red lights faded, and the halo pale
Around him, into chilly air expanded. [page 435:]
There stood the three great images, in hue
Of chalky white and red, like those strange shapes
In Egypt's ancient tombs; but presently
Each visage and each form with cracks and flaws
Was seamed, and the lost countenance brake up,
As, with brief toppling, forward prone they fell.
The deaths of Rhexergon and Biastor seem to discard (and this we regret not) the allegorical meaning altogether, but are related with even more exquisite richness and delicacy of imagination, than even those of the other giants. Upon this occasion it is the jealousy of Artemis which destroys.
—— But with the eve Fatigue o'ercame the giants, and they slept.
Dense were the rolling clouds, starless the glooms;
But o'er a narrow rift, once drawn apart,
Showing a field remote of violet hue,
The high Moon floated, and her downward gleam
Shone on the upturned giant faces. Rigid
Each upper feature, loose the nether jaw;
Their arms cast wide with open palms; their chests
Heaving like some large engine. Near them lay
Their bloody clubs, with dust and hair begrimed,
Their spears and girdles, and the long-noosed thongs.
Artemis vanished; all again was dark.
With day's first streak Orion rose, and loudly
To his companions called. But still they slept.
Again he shouted; yet no limb they stirr'd,
Tho' scarcely seven strides distant. He approached,
And found the spot, so sweet with clover flower
When they had cast them down, was now arrayed
With many-headed poppies, like a crowd
Of dusky Ethiops in a magic cirque
Which had sprung up beneath them in the night.
And all entranced the air.
There are several minor defects in "Orion," and we may as well mention them here. We sometimes meet with an instance of bad taste in a revolting picture or image; for example, at page 59, of this edition:
Naught fearing, swift, brimfull of raging life,
Stiff'ning they lay in pools of jellied gore.
Sometimes — indeed very often — we encounter an altogether purposeless oddness or foreignness of speech. For example, at page 78:
As in Dodona once, ere driven thence
By Zeus for that Rhexergon burnt some oaks. [page 436:]
Mr. Horne will find it impossible to assign a good reason for not here using "because."
Purevaguenesses of speech abound. For example, page 89:
— one central heart wherein
Time beats twin pulses with Humanity.
Now and then sentences are rendered needlessly obscure through mere involution — as at page 103:
Star-rays that first played o'er my blinded orbs,
E'en as they glance above the lids of sleep,
Who else had never known surprise, nor hope,
Nor useful action.
Here the "who" has no grammatical antecedent, and would naturally be referred to sleep; whereas it is intended for "me," understood, or involved, in the pronoun "my;" as if the sentence were written thus — "rays that first played o'er the blinded orbs of me, who &c." It is useless to dwell upon so pure an affectation.
The versification throughout is, generally, of a very remarkable excellence. At times, however, it is rough, to no purpose; as at page 44:
And ever tended to some central point
In some place — nought more could I understand.
And here, at page 81:
The shadow of a stag stoops to the stream
Swift rolling toward the cataract and drinks deeply.
The above is an unintentional and false Alexandrine — including a foot too much, and that a trochee in place of an iambus. But here, at page 106, we have the utterly unjustifiable anomaly of half a foot too little:
And Eos ever rises circling
The varied regions of Mankind, &c.
All these are mere inadvertences, of course; for the general handling of the rhythm shows the profound metrical sense of the poet. He is, perhaps, somewhat too fond of "making the sound an echo to the sense." "Orion" embodies some of the most remarkable instances of this on record; but if smoothness — if the true rhythm of a verse be sacrificed, the sacrifice is an error. The effect is only a beauty, we think, where no sacrifice is made in its behalf. It will be found possible to reconcile all the objects in view. Nothing can justify such lines as this, at page 69: [page 437:]
As snake-songs midst stone hollows thus has taught me.
We might urge, as another minor objection, that all the giants are made to speak in the same manner — with the same phraseology. Their characters are broadly distinctive, while their words are identical in spirit. There is sufficient individuality of sentiment, but little, or none, of language.
We must object, too, to the personal and political allusions — to the Corn-Law question, for example — to Wellington's statue, &c. These things, of course, have no business in a poem.
We will conclude our fault-finding with the remark that, as a consequence of the one radical error of conception upon which we have commented at length, the reader's attention, throughout, is painfully diverted. He is always pausing, amid poetical beauties, in the expectation of detecting among them some philosophical, allegorical moral. Of course, he does not fully, because he cannot uniquely, appreciate the beauties. The absolute necessity of re-perusing the poem, in order thoroughly to comprehend it, is also, most surely, to be regretted, and arises, likewise, from the one radical sin.
But of the beauties of this most remarkable poem, what shall we say? And here we find it a difficult task to be calm. And yet we have never been accused of enthusiastic encomium. It is our deliberate opinion that, in all that regards the loftiest and holiest attributes of the true Poetry, "Orion" has never been excelled. Indeed we feel strongly inclined to say that it has never been equaled. Its imagination — that quality which is all in all — is of the most refined — the most elevating — the most august character. And here we deeply regret that the necessary limits of this review will prevent us from entering, at length, into specification. In reading the poem, we marked passage after passage for extract — but, in the end, we found that we had marked nearly every passage in the book. We can now do nothing more than select a few. This, from page 3, introduces Orion himself, and we quote it, not only as an instance of refined and picturesque imagination, but as evincing the high artistical skill with which a scholar in spirit can paint an elaborate picture by a few brief touches. [page 438:]
The scene in front two sloping mountains' sides
Display'd; in shadow one and one in light.
The loftiest on its summit now sustained
The sun-beams, raying like a mighty wheel
Half seen, which left the forward surface dark
In its full breadth of shade; the coming sun
Hidden as yet behind: the other mount,
Slanting transverse, swept with an eastward face
Catching the golden light. Now while the peal
Of the ascending chase told that the rout
Still midway rent the thickets, suddenly
Along the broad and sunny slope appeared
The shadow of a stag that fled across
Followed by a giant's shadow with a spear.
These shadows are those of the coming Orion and his game. But who can fail to appreciate the intense beauty of the heralding shadows? Nor is this all. This "Hunter of shadows, he himself a shade," is made symbolical, or suggestive, throughout the poem, of the speculative character of Orion; and occasionally, of his pursuit of visionary happiness. For example, at page 81, Orion, possessed of Merope, dwells with her in a remote and dense grove of cedars. Instead of directly describing his attained happiness — his perfected bliss — the poet, with an exalted sense of Art, for which we look utterly in vain in any other poem, merely introduces the image of the tamed or subdued shadow-stag, quietly browsing and drinking beneath the cedars.
There, underneath the boughs, mark where the gleam
Of sun-rise thro' the roofing's chasm is thrown
Upon a grassy plot below, whereon
The shadow of a stag stoops to the stream,
Swift rolling toward the cataract, and drinks.
Throughout the day unceasingly it drinks,
While ever and anon the nightingale,
Not waiting for the evening, swells his hymn —
His one sustained and heaven aspiring tone —
And when the sun hath vanished utterly,
Arm over arm the cedars spread their shade,
With arching wrist and long extended hands,
And grave-ward fingers lengthening in the moon,
Above that shadowy stag whose antlers still
Hung o'er the stream.
There is nothing more richly — more weirdly — more chastely — more sublimely imaginative — in the wide realm of poetical literature. It will be seen that we have enthusiasm but we reserve it for pictures such as this. [page 439:]
At page 62, Orion, his brethren dead, is engaged alone in extirpating the beasts from Chios. In the passages we quote, observe, in the beginning, the singular lucidness of detail; the arrangement of the barriers, &c., by which the hunter accomplishes his purpose, is given in a dozen lines of verse, with far more perspicuity than ordinary writers could give it in as many pages of prose. In this species of narration Mr. Horne is approached only by Moore in his "Alciphron." In the latter portions of our extract, observe the vivid picturesqueness of the description.
Four days remain. Fresh trees he felled and wove
More barriers and fences; inaccessible
To fiercest charge of droves, and to o'erleap
Impossible. These walls he so arranged
That to a common centre each should force
The flight of those pursued; and from that centre
Diverged three outlets. One, the wide expanse
Which from the rocks and inland forests led;
One was the clear-skied windy gap above
A precipice; the third, a long ravine
Which through steep slopes, down to the seashore ran
Winding, and then direct into the sea.
Two days remain. Orion, in each hand
Waving a torch, his course at night began,
Through wildest haunts and lairs of savage beasts.
With long-drawn howl, before him trooped the wolves —
The panthers, terror-stricken, and the bears
With wonder and gruff rage; from desolate crags,
Leering hyenas, griffin, hippogrif,
Skulked, or sprang madly, as the tossing brands
Flashed through the midnight nooks and hollows cold,
Sudden as fire from flint; o'er crashing thickets,
With crouched head and curled fangs dashed the wild boar,
Gnashing forth on with reckless impulses,
While the clear-purposed fox crept closely down
Into the underwood, to let the storm,
Whate'er its cause, pass over. Through dark fens,
Marshes, green rushy swamps, and margins reedy,
Orion held his way — and rolling shapes
Of serpent and of dragon moved before him
With high-reared crests, swan-like yet terrible,
And often looking back with gem-like eyes.
All night Orion urged his rapid course
In the vex'd rear of the swift-droving din,
And when the dawn had peered, the monsters all
Were hemmed in barriers. These he now o'erheaped
With fuel through the day, and when again
Night darkened, and the sea a gulf-like voice
Sent forth, the barriers at all points he fired,
Mid prayers to HephÆstos and his Ocean-Sire. [page 440:]
Soon as the flames had eaten out a gap
In the great barrier fronting the ravine
That ran down to the sea, Orion grasped
Two blazing boughs; one high in air he raised,
The other, with its roaring foliage trailed
Behind him as he sped. Onward the droves
Of frantic creatures with one impulse rolled
Before this night-devouring thing of flames,
With multitudinous voice and downward sweep
Into the sea, which now first knew a tide,
And, ere they made one effort to regain
The shore, had caught them in its flowing arms,
And bore them past all hope. The living mass,
Dark heaving o'er the waves resistlessly,
At length, in distance, seemed a circle small,
Midst which one creature in the centre rose,
Conspicuous in the long, red quivering gleams
That from the dying brands streamed o'er the waves.
It was the oldest dragon of the fens,
Whose forky flag-wings and horn-crested head
O'er crags and marshes regal sway had held;
And now he rose up like an embodied curse,
From all the doomed, fast sinking — some just sunk —
Looked landward o'er the sea, and flapped his vans,
Until Poseidon drew them swirling down.
Poseidon (Neptune) is Orion's father, and lends him his aid. The first line italized is an example of sound made echo to sense. The rest we have merely emphasized as peculiarly imaginative.
At page 9, Orion thus describes a palace built by him for Hephæstos (Vulcan.)
But, ere a shadow-hunter I became —
A dreamer of strange dreams by day and night —
For him I built a palace underground,
Of iron, black and rough as his own hands.
Deep in the groaning disemboweled earth,
The tower-broad pillars and huge stanchions,
And slant supporting wedges I set up,
Aided by the Cyclops who obeyed my voice,
Which through the metal fabric rang and pealed
In orders echoing far, like thunder-dreams.
With arches, galleries and domes all carved —
So that great figures started from the roof
And lofty coignes, or sat and downward gazed
On those who strode below and gazed above —
I filled it; in the centre framed a hall:
Central in that, a throne; and for the light,
Forged mighty hammers that should rise and fall
On slanted rocks of granite and of flint,
Worked by a torrent, for whose passage down
A chasm I hewed. And here the god could take, [page 441:]
Midst showery sparks and swathes of broad gold fire
His lone repose, lulled by the sounds he loved;
Or, casting back the hammer-heads till they choked
The water's course, enjoy, if so he wished,
Midnight tremendous, silence, and iron sleep.
The description of the Hell in "Paradise Lost" is altogether inferior in graphic effect, in originality, in expression, in the true imagination — to these magnificent — to these unparalleled passages. For this assertion there are tens of thousands who will condemn us as heretical; but there are a "chosen few" who will feel, in their inmost souls, the simple truth of the assertion. The former class would at least be silent, could they form even a remote conception of that contempt with which we hearken to their conventional jargon.
We have room for no farther extracts of length; but we refer the reader who shall be so fortunate as to procure a copy of "Orion," to a passage at page 22, commencing
One day at noontide, when the chase was done.
It is descriptive of a group of lolling hounds, intermingled with sylvans, fawns, nymphs and oceanides. We refer him also to page 25, where Orion, enamored of the naked beauty of Artemis, is repulsed and frozen by her dignity. These lines end thus:
And ere the last collected shape he saw
Of Artemis, dispersing fast amid
Dense vapory clouds, the aching wintriness
Had risen to his teeth, and fixed his eyes,
Like glistening stones in the congealing air.
We refer, especially, too, to the description of Love, at page 29; to that of a Bacchanalian orgie, at page 34; to that of drought succeeded by rain, at page 70; and to that of the palace of Eos, at page 104.
Mr. Horne has a very peculiar and very delightful faculty of enforcing, or giving vitality to a picture, by some one vivid and intensely characteristic point or touch. He seizes the most salient feature of his theme, and makes this feature convey the whole. The combined n;auaiveté and picturesqueness of some of the passages thus enforced, cannot be sufficiently admired. For example:
The arches soon
With bow-arm forward thrust, on all sides twanged
Around, above, below. [page 442:]
Now, it is this thrusting forward of the bow-arm which is the idiosyncrasy of the action of a mass of archers. Again: Rhexergon and his friends endeavor to persuade Akinetos to be king. Observe the silent refusal of Akinetos — the pecu-liar passiveness of his action — if we may be permitted the paradox.
"Rise, therefore, Akinetos, thou art king."
So saying, in his hand he placed a spear.
As though against a wall' [[t ]]were set aslant,
Flatly the long spear fell upon the ground.
Here again: Merope departs from Chios in a ship.
And, as it sped along, she closely pressed
The rich globes of her bosom on the side
O'er which she bent with those black eyes, and gazed
Into the sea that fled beneath her face.
The fleeing of the sea beneath the face of one who gazes into it from a ship's side, is the idiosyncrasy of the action of the subject. It is that which chiefly impresses the gazer.
We conclude with some brief quotations at random, which we shall not pause to classify. Their merits need no demonstration. They gleam with the purest imagination. They abound in picturesqueness — force — happily chosen epithets, each in itself a picture. They are redolent of all for which a poet will value a poem.
— her silver sandals glanced i' the rays,
As doth a lizard playing on a hill,
And on the spot where she that instant stood
Naught but the bent and quivering grass was seen.
Above the Isle of Chios, night by night,
The clear moon lingered ever on her course,
Covering the forest foliage, where it swept
In its unbroken breadth along the slopes,
With placid silver; edging leaf and trunk
Where gloom clung deep around; but chiefly sought
With melancholy splendor to illume
The dark-mouthed caverns where Orion lay,
Dreaming among his kinsmen.
The ocean realm below, and all its caves
And bristling vegetation, plant and flower,
And forests in their dense petrific shade
Where the tides moan for sleep that never comes.
A fawn, who on a quiet green knoll sat
Somewhat apart, sang a melodious ode,
Made rich by harmonies of hidden strings. [page 443:]
Autarces seized a satyr, with intent,
Despite his writhing freaks and furious face,
To dash him on a gong, but that amidst
The struggling mass Encolyon thrust a pine,
Heavy and black as Charon's ferrying pole,
O'er which they, like a bursting billow, fell.
—— then round the blaze,
Their shadows brandishing afar and athwart,
Over the level space and up the hills,
Six giants held portentous dance.
—— his safe return
To corporal sense, by shaking off these nets
Of moonbeams from his soul.
—— old memories
Slumbrously hung above the purple line
Of distance, to the East, while odorously
Glistened the tear-drops of a new-fall'n shower.
Sing on!
Sing on, great tempest! in the darkness sing!
Thy madness is a music that brings calm
Into my central soul; and from its waves,
That now with joy begin to heave and gush,
The burning image of all life's desire,
Like an absorbing, fire-breathed, phantom god,
Rises and floats! here touching on the foam,
There hovering over it; ascending swift
Starward, then swooping down the hemisphere
Upon the lengthening javelins of the blast!
Now a sound we heard,
Like to some well-known voice in prayer; and next
An iron clang that seemed to break great bonds
Beneath the earth, shook us to conscious life.
It is Oblivion! In his hand — though naught
Knows he of this — a dusky purple flower
Droops over its tall stem. Again! ah see!
He wanders into mist and now is lost! —
Within his brain what lovely realms of death
Are pictured, and what knowledge through the doors
Of his forgetfulness of all the earth
A path may gain?
But we are positively forced to conclude. It was our design to give "Orion" a careful and methodical analysis — thus to bring clearly forth its multitudinous beauties to the eye of the American public. Our limits have constrained us to treat it in an imperfect and cursory manner. We have had to content ourselves chiefly with assertion, where our original purpose was to demonstrate. We have left unsaid a hundred things which a well-grounded enthusiasm [page 444:] would have prompted us to say. One thing, however, we must and will say, in conclusion. "Orion" will be admitted, by every man of genius, to be one of the noblest, if not the very noblest poetical work of the age. Its defects are trivial and conventional — its beauties intrinsic and supreme.
[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 425:]
*Orion: an Epic Poem in Three Books. By R. H. Horne. Fourth Edition. London: Published by J. Miller.
[S:0 - WORKS, 1850] - Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore - Works - Criticism - R. H. Horne (Text-B)


text:
On my way home from coaching basketball yesterday, I was listening to WGN; my favorite talk radio station out of Chicago. I could tell right away that there was something wrong by the somber mood of the speaker.
There had been a plane crash. Two small planes collided into each other over a northern suburb of Chicago. What made the story hit close to home was that Bob Collins, the morning show man for WGN, was the pilot of one of the planes and had been killed. (I'm sure that many readers have tuned in "Uncle Bobby" on their car radios in the Midwest.)
Later that night, as I made my 40 minute drive to my third shift job, I listened as the station reminisced and paid tribute to a man who was loved by many. They told story after story, describing him as the ultimate friend, and a man who had lived life to the fullest. Genuine love and affection poured in from all over the country. The more I listened about how this man had influenced those around him, the more discouraged I became.
Why you ask?
I was discouraged because I wanted to know why we as a culture, wait until somebody has passed away before we tell them how much we love them? Why do we wait until someone's ears can't hear before we let them how much they mean to us? Why do we wait until it is too late before we recall the good qualities of a person? Why do we build someone up after they have gone into eternity? What good does it do then! We share memory after memory, as we laugh, cry, and think back about what was positive in a person's life. Yes, it does help us cope with the grief of losing someone that was special to us. And yes it does bring those who are coping, closer together. But as we lovingly remember this person, our words fall short of the ears that most needed to hear them.
Just once I would like to see a celebration of life, instead of a gathering of death. A celebration where stories are told, eyes mist over, laughter rings out; and as the speaker concludes his or her loving tribute, the person they are honoring rises from their chair and gives them the biggest bear hug! Wouldn't that be something! The special person gets to hear the stories and come to the realization that they have made a difference on this earth. And all this is done well before they leave their earthly bodies and go into eternity. And when the inevitable funeral finally comes, we can say good bye with the knowledge that they knew exactly how people felt about them while they were here on earth.
I now have a stronger resolve to tell those around me how much they mean to me. I am going to let my wife know just how loved and appreciated she is, not only by my words, but also by my actions. I am going to play Batman with my four year old more often, and in the middle of our romping, I am going to grab him, hug him tightly, and tell him how thankful I am that he is my son. I am going to sneak into my sleeping toddler's bedroom, place my lips on his chubby cheek, and thank God for the bundle of joy he has brought into my life. Each day I will make a point to tell both of my boys how much I love them, whether they are four or eighteen! From there, I am going to let family and friends know the tremendous impact they have had on my life. And last but not least, I am going to let the high school players I coach know that I look forward to each and every minute that I get to spend with them in the gym.
Do you love someone? Then tell them! Has someone been an influence in your life? Then give them a call! Has someone made a difference in your life? Then write them a letter or send them an email! Don't let another day go by without letting that person know. There is something special about a written letter that expresses feelings of love towards another. I don't know about you, but I have letters and cards from people that I have saved for years, and from time to time, I get them out and reread them. They can turn a depressing day into one where you realize just how blessed and loved you are.
Life is too short to leave kind words unsaid. The words you say, or the letter you write, might just make all the difference in the world.


text:
Genderless identification just won't fly, a New Zealand woman learned this week while trying to catch a domestic flight out of Kelowna International Airport.
Sharon Duley is a frequent traveler, and was booked on a flight to Vancouver Sunday when she realized she didn't have her passport with her — it was in a bag with her husband who had chosen to drive the route.
She did a quick search on the airline website and learned that all needed to fly was valid government issued, photo ID.
"My New Zealand Driver's Licence is a valid government-issued, photo ID … so I thought it was fine," Duley said, from New Zealand.
She learned at the gate, and during a subsequently longer read of Canadian aviation regulations, that it wasn't entirely the case. Information indicating gender is required on one piece of ID, so she was barred from the flight.
"The thing that gets me — and the law is the law — is there's no way they are going to identify a person, especially in the current climate, by their gender," she said.
At the airport Duley found out that the same thing happened to an Aussie the week before.
"It's just not a good way to treat tourists," she said. "When you come in legally on your passport and you're flying domestically, it doesn't say you need a passport."
A witness to the situation also saw fault in how it was dealt with and detailed it on Facebook this week.
"In this day of gender neutrality….we are at the airport boarding a flight to Vancouver and they removed the bags of a lady from New Zealand and won't let her on the plane because her Driver's License doesn't specify male or female," said Blake Roberts.
"(They don't specify there evidently). This poor lady is left crying and stranded alone at the airport in Kelowna. The federal government better get consistent in its law and the fact that the WestJet staff wouldn't turn a blind eye for her? Poor form WestJet." "
When flying a domestic flight passports, which have gender on them, aren't required and licences can be used. But apparently not all of them are consistent and certain things are required.
"Although I cannot speak to this specific situation, in accordance with Transport Canada regulations, WestJet must check identification at the boarding gate for all guests 18 years of age and older," said Lauren Stewart, a WestJet representative. "The name on the ID must match the name used on the reservation or ticket."
At the boarding gate, a guest must present:
• Two pieces of valid government-issued non-photo identification with matching names, as long as at least one piece also includes the date of birth and gender; or
• One piece of valid government-issued identification with photo showing the name, date of birth and gender.
Jasmine Patrick, communications staff for the airport, couldn't say if this sort of situation had occurred before and noted that City of Kelowna policies protect against any kind of discrimination among staff, this case is beyond their jurisdiction and is a question for the federal regulator, Transport Canada.
Transport Canada responded to a query and said that in August 2015, Public Safety Canada created the Secure Air Travel Regulations, which replaced previous regulations.
"In general, the purpose of this section of the Secure Air Travel Regulations is to ensure air carriers confirm the identification presented belongs to the travelling passenger in order to prevent circumvention of the Passenger Protect Program and the Secure Air Travel Act list," reads the statement.
The Government of Canada is exploring an update of the Secure Air Travel Regulations should amendments to the Secure Air Travel Act be passed as part of Bill C-59.
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Microsoft is letting developers create apps for its Band fitness tracker that convey information pulled from RSS feeds and display it on the device's screen.
The apps, which Microsoft calls Web tiles, work best at relaying "glanceable" information, like stock quotes or weather reports, the company said Thursday.
Creating an app is a quick and straightforward, according to Microsoft. First, developers visit a Microsoft website where they provide an icon file and link to an RSS feed.
The app is then loaded to the Band via the Microsoft Health app that controls the wearable device. Because Microsoft Health works on several mobile platforms, the app will run on devices that run iOS, Android and Windows Phone.
The end result is an app that has limited functions, but can provide people with small bits of news that are relevant to them. But by offering users apps that provide bite-sized portions of information, the Band may better compete against and possibly stand out from other fitness trackers. Some of the Band's features, which include the ability to track steps, calories burned and sleep quality, are also found in wearable devices from rivals including Fitbit and Jawbone.
Microsoft is also opening its Health Cloud platform to developers. By using APIs, developers could incorporate a user's activity data into their apps. For example, an app could take location data from a user's run and use it to create a map of the route. Apps could also use the fitness and biometric data a user stored in the cloud to customize workouts. A user would have to agree to give an app permission to access this information in order for the program to offer personalized services, Microsoft said.
The Microsoft Band has been steadily gaining features since it debuted last October. Some of the additions include a virtual keyboard that came in a February software update and integration with the popular cycling app Strava in April. This week, the Band received an update that allows it to track golf swings.


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Pryce Hadley, '12, had a distinguished college career at Albion. He won a Udall Environmental Scholarship his junior year and helped to start Albion's student farm.
Now he's helping launch an iOS app with his uncle Tom Bender, '85.
Pryce moved to Boulder, Colorado last fall to help kick start History Spots Inc., Tom's mobile tech start-up. Their first project is an education entertainment mobile web app called The Story of Where.
"The Story of Where pulls from a variety of publicly available historical databases, such as the National Register of Historical Places, to fuel a user-friendly, place-based educational tool," Pryce says.
The idea, says his uncle Tom, came from his own cross-country travels with his family.
"My kids were in the back seat on their iPod Touches killing zombies, flinging Angry Birds and playing Doodle Jump and I thought, 'Hey, there needs to be an app that tells kids all about their surroundings on a road trip,'" Tom says.
Unhappy with the travel apps available, Tom decided to launch his own -- with Pryce joining him in September 2012.
During his own college search, Pryce valued the guidance of his uncle.
"I wouldn't have heard of Albion without his advice," Pryce says. "As I was raised in the Upper Peninsula, Albion was not exactly on my radar. My uncle's stories about going to college and the funky places he discovered in the surrounding community caught my attention."
Ultimately, Pryce's interest in the environment drew him to Albion.
"It was Albion's Center for Sustainability & the Environment that sealed the deal," Pryce says. "Dr. Tim Lincoln and the other professors involved with environmental causes on campus are truly a great, open-minded bunch. They convinced me it was worth giving Albion a shot."
Tom had a family connection to Albion as well. His uncle, Bill Pincoe, '61, was captain of Albion's baseball team. Tom remembers playing with his uncle's baseball gear while visiting his grandparents in Battle Creek, Mich.
Although his mother and father each attended different colleges, Tom says he always had a "draw for the purple and the gold."
"I look back on the Albion College experience and have some wonderful memories," he says. "I remain very close with many, many friends from Albion and continue to see many of them once or twice a year in Colorado and Michigan."


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The middle of February is not exactly a busy time for college football news, but based on my email traffic, I guess I should post a couple of things.
First, if it weren't already pretty obvious, FTB tends to be dormant during the off-season. Believe it or not, I do try to not write here (or elsewhere) if I don't actually have anything to say, and since recruiting just doesn't interest me (having gone to the same high school as Alan Evans and Charlie Dare--two of the biggest flops in recruiting history--pretty much cured me of that malady), I really don't have a whole lot pertinent to note about Auburn or SEC football in general right now. I do plan to go to A-Day in April, and assuming it rises above the standard bore-fest, I'll probably post something about it--but no promises.
Second, a lot of people are apparently curious as to whether I'm still as down on Gene Chizik as I was the day he was hired. The short answer is, ask me again in October, because it won't be until then that anybody has anything approximating a good idea about how the Chizik regime is going to work out.
The longer answer is, we'll see. I am encouraged by the new coaching staff. I like pretty much everybody Chizik has hired, and more importantly, people who know a lot more about X's and O's than I do are very impressed by these assistants. Given the likelihood that with a merely mediocre offense, Auburn would have won at least eight games and played on New Year's Day last year, and the near certainty that the incoming offensive staff is light-years more competent than the one most recently departed, there are reasons for optimism.
As I just noted, I'm about as far from a "recruitnik" as you can get, but I do think Chizik and his staff did as well as could reasonably be expected this year, given that they only had six weeks on the job. Once again, people with more knowledge (and frankly, interest) in the subject than I possess like what they've seen, and that's likely a good thing.
All that understood, the jury is obviously still out until Chizik has several games under his belt as Auburn's head coach. I'm not going to go all sunshine-pumpery here and declare that I was nuts to think hiring a guy with a 10-game losing streak was a bad idea. To be perfectly honest, the reports out of Iowa regarding chaos on the sidelines and poor game planning still scare me to death. As an alumnus and life-long fan, I'm quite happy to be supportive of the team , but the coaches have to earn it, especially a coach who comes in with a less-than-stellar (let's be honest here--really awful) track record.
So, like I said, ask me again in October.


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Eben Moglen
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Eben Moglen (né le 13 juillet 1959) is a professor of law and history of law at Columbia University, serves pro bono as General Counsel for the Free Software Foundation, and is the Chairman of Software Freedom Law Center.
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- The great moral question of the twenty-first century is this: if all knowledge, all culture, all art, all useful information can be costlessly given to everyone at the same price that it is given to anyone; if everyone can have everything, anywhere, all the time, why is it ever moral to exclude anyone?
- The DotCommunist Manifesto, UNC-Chapel Hill, Howard W. Odum Institute, November 8, 2001 [1].
- We are a non-utopian political movement. We are not interested in going nowhere. We are not interested in going to some place we have never been, which we will get to after the revolution because people will be different.
The crucial operating premise of the Free Software Movement as a revolutionary politic is: Proof of Concept plus Running code. Here. We did it already. It's sort of working. If you take a copy and help us fix it, it could really be something. Here. You want it? Take it. We like it.
It's Free.
- Talk at Seattle University, March 13 2009 [2]
- I think Larry is right to notice that the contradictions are catching the allies up already. It's one of those cases where even before you begin bombing the children, the coalition is falling apart. And that's good news. And I'm very much in favor of it. Some Powell or other is messing up the war.
- Panel on Public Domain at Duke University Law School, November 10, 2001 [3].
- The Entertainment Industry on Planet Earth had decided that in order to acquire Layer 7 Data Security, it was necessary to lock up layers 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 so that no technological progress could occur without their permission. This was known by the IT Industry and the Consumer Electronics Industry on the planet to be offensive nonsense, but there was no counterweight to it, and there was no organised consumer dissent sufficient to require them to stand up for technical merit and their own right to run their own businesses without dictation from companies a tenth their size. Not surprisingly, since it is part of the role we play in this political power concentrated in poverty, humility, and sanctity, we brought them to a consensus they were unable to bring themselves to - which is represented in the license by a rule which fundamentally says "If you want to experiment with locking down layer below 7 in the pursuit of data networks inside businesses that keep the business's data at home, you may do so freely, we have no objection - not only do we have no objection to you doing it, we've no objection to your using our parts to do it with. But when you use our parts to build machines which control peoples' daily lives - which provide them with education and culture, build devices which are modifiable by them to the same extent that they're modifiable by you. That's all we want. If you can modify the device after you give it to them, then they must be able to modify the device after you give it to them - that's a price for using our parts. That's a deal which has been accepted.
- Talk titled The Global Software Industry in Transformation: After GPLv3, Edinburgh, Scotland, June 26, 2007 [4].
- You could make a good case that the history of social life is about the history of the technology of memory. That social order and control, structure of governance, social cohesion in states or organizations larger than face-to- face society depends on the nature of the technology of memory--both how it works and what it remembers... In short, what societies value is what they memorize, and how they memorize it, and who has access to its memorized form determines the structure of power that the society represents and acts from.
- Talk titled "Freedom Business" @ The O'Reilly Media MySQL Conference, 2007-04-25 [5].
- The difference is, this time, we win.
- Varied closing line in many speeches


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Watch & learn
By Frank D. Roylance, Baltimore Sun
By analyzing a person's body language, gait and other movements, behavior recognition software is helping catch criminals and may be useful in the war on terror, as well as have medical applications
It's 11:30 at night on Lovegrove Street, an alley near the Homewood campus of the Johns Hopkins University.
A lone man is looking up and down the street, apparently waiting for someone. A pickup truck drives up. The man says something to the driver, gets in and they drive off.
Minutes later, a block away, a woman is robbed at gunpoint by two men who speed off in a pickup. No one at the scene can describe the truck to campus security officers or to Baltimore police.
This case last June might have gone cold. But it did not. The Lovegrove caper was solved by technology that plays the role of an old-fashioned tipster.
Behavior recognition software enables computers to alert people when something, or someone, appears suspicious. The Hopkins system employs one application of the technology to watch for aberrant movements captured by dozens of cameras - far more than any person could track.
Computer analysis of the way people and objects appear and move on video is also being developed at the University of Maryland's A. James Clark School of Engineering and elsewhere for use in surveillance, security, anti-terrorism and even medical applications.
Hopkins' security system caught the robbery suspects on a video camera on Lovegrove Street. The software registered the man's behavior and the late hour, and alerted the security officer on duty in the command center.
The view down Lovegrove was singled out by the computer amid the incoming imagery from 89 campus security cameras. It popped automatically onto the officer's screen, with the man's image highlighted in a yellow box. She quickly zoomed in and recorded images of the suspect, the truck and its license plate.
After the victim reported the robbery, the tag number led police within hours to a borrowed truck and the suspect, who had a police record. The victim picked him out of a photo lineup. He was arrested a few days later, linked to a second crime and charged with both.
"If we didn't have this video system, or she didn't focus on him, he would have gotten away," said Edmund Skrodzki, executive director for security for Hopkins' Homewood campus. "One person can't monitor 89 screens. You need help with it, and behavioral recognition provides that assistance."
The technology has attracted interest and research dollars from the Pentagon and the Department of Homeland Security. Some of that money has gone to the University of Maryland, College Park, where Rama Chellappa is a professor of electrical and computer engineering and director of UM's Center for Automation Research. He is exploring more sophisticated ways to flag people and suspicious activity.
One way is by their gait. The way people move while walking can reveal a lot, Chellappa said.
Is this person male or female? Are his arms both swinging, or is he carrying something? How tall is he? How heavy? How heavy does his burden appear to be? Is it in view or hidden? Has he put it down and walked away?
The computer may even calculate whether this is a gait "signature" it has seen before. Do we know this person?
Some Americans might also want to ask whether this sort of public surveillance and scrutiny is a good thing, or a threat to privacy. At Hopkins, Skrodzki said he's had no complaints. "If anything, we've actually gotten a lot of feedback from faculty, students and staff saying we've increased their comfort level," he said.
Hopkins' camera system is watching a 140-acre campus and nearby areas - up from 32 cameras when Skrodzki was hired in mid-2005. It displays 19 scenes at any one time on a large screen in the command center.
In addition to the Lovegrove loiterer, the system has alerted security to a juvenile as he attempted to steal a motorbike, leading to an arrest. Another youth was spotted, tracked by cameras and arrested after spray-painting graffiti on campus buildings.
A nighttime bicycle thief was confronted after another alert brought nearby security officers to the scene. The crook dropped his bolt cutters and ran off, but the bike was recovered, Skrodzki said.
Other potential criminals were warned off because of automated alerts as they cased a sorority house, or tried doorknobs and car handles near campus.
"It's been fantastic for us," Skrodzki said. "We are responding more to alerts, and that's a good thing because our whole thing is prevention."
Campus bike thefts dropped from 25 during the 2005 fall semester to three last fall. Overall crime was down 20 percent in 2006. And Skrodzki credits the behavioral recognition software for providing a critical assist.
The Pentagon and Homeland Security have bigger fish to fry, of course.
At College Park, Chellappa said that the Pentagon's interest in the remote identification of security threats began in 1996 after terrorists in Saudi Arabia drove a fuel truck into the Khobar Towers housing complex and blew it up, killing 19 American servicemen and one Saudi. More than 300 were injured.
Clearly, it's too dangerous to let potential terrorists get close enough to be identified by fingerprints and iris scans. So the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) began funding research to develop new ways to identify suspicious behavior at a safe distance.
In 2000, Chellappa began working on gait recognition with Mark Nixon of the University of Southampton in England. They developed computer programs, using algorithms that convert digital video data to mathematical patterns. The software analyzes whether patterns generated by an individual's movements match those designated as suspicious.
For example, the computer can note when the subject is running, loitering or moving oddly; whether he is carrying something in one arm, both arms or concealed on his body, or whether someone's gait changes in a way that suggests he has left a heavy object behind.
Chellappa has provided algorithms for gait recognition and estimating a person's height to Honeywell International, which is using them under a Homeland Security contract to devise video technology for automatically tracking suspicious people through airports while alerting security personnel. Honeywell's pilot system is running at Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport.
"If you see someone you think may be a bad guy, and you want to follow that person, it's pretty straightforward to track him in one vision zone," said Dan Sheflin, chief technical officer for Honeywell's Automation and Control Solutions division.
"But picking that person back up and being able to track them [on non-overlapping cameras] is a very important problem ... one nobody's figured out yet," he said. "I think we're only a year or two away from having it figured out."
A person's weight, and the weight of any objects he's carrying, could also be estimated from his height and movement patterns, Chellappa said.
"If I know how tall you are, and have a rough idea of how much you weigh, I can build a model and put a backpack on your back and increase the weight 10, 20, 30 pounds," he said. He can then generate a "library" of subtle gait changes that computers could reference to provide weight estimates for suspect bundles.
Gait recognition technology may also prove useful in healing. Chellappa is working with Thomas P. Andriacchi of Stanford University and John Jeka in UM's Department of Kinesiology to apply gait recognition technology to motion analysis in patients recovering from surgery, or coping with disabilities such as Parkinson's disease.
That could be used to develop treatment regimens, adjust a patient's prosthesis or spot developing problems.
But the technology's primary applications, for now, seem to be security-related. With Virginia-based SET Corp., DARPA, Homeland Security and the Air Force, Chellappa is working on linking video tracking and gait analysis technology to a low-power radar system that - at a safe distance - could "frisk" a person singled out by his movements as a potential suicide bomber.
There are difficulties, of course. People walking in a crowd are difficult to isolate, and when they're not walking crosswise to the camera there is less gait information to process.
"This [technology] will work when you have a portal kind of a situation and a person walks by one by one, for example when we come out of the immigration and customs area at an airport," he said.
Even so, the variety of "normal" behaviors is so wide that it's difficult to draw the line between the normal and the abnormal, and innocent people may be stopped for questioning. "If you create too many false alarms, nobody's going to buy [the technology]," he said.
In the end, Chellappa said, even after an automated alert, "humans have to make the judgments."
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Before that drought, he completed Li(f)e, the just-released CD that's his final work on Anti- Records. Knowing that Francis's contract was about to expire, Anti- president Andy Kaulkin encouraged the rapper to use the label's connections and leave on a high note. Francis took Kaulkin up on his offer by enlisting an array of rock-centric players rather than underground hip-hop producers to craft his backing tracks. His oddest guest arrived at the party late. Two days before recording was to wrap, Francis received a contribution from Yann Tiersen, the French musician best known for scoring Amélie. Tiersen composed a piece so striking that Francis had to include it. That, however, left him one night to write the lyrics.
Francis had to rummage through old material to find something — anything — that could start a fire. He ended up unearthing a letter sent to his girlfriend when he was touring Europe a few years back. The opening phrase — "It's been a long and lonely trip but I'm glad I took it" — triggered a torrent of memories.
Sage returned to being just Paul Francis, a paranoid, obsessive kid who flirted with suicide. "I don't remember much from my youth," he spins on "The Best of Times." "Maybe my memory is repressed/Or I just spent too much time wondering if I'd live to have sex." We hear about his fighting parents, his failed therapy, even the time in eighth grade when he stuck a love letter to a long-time crush into the wrong locker. Meanwhile, Tiersen's lullaby piano sparkles behind Francis's verses, coating his fractured autobiography with a sweet balm. "The Best of Times" makes for a startling, if imperfect, coda to Li(f)e. It's "the most epic track I have ever made," Francis has said. (Amusing when you consider that he needed three years to make the rest of the disc.)
Production is rarely easy, but Li(f)e required an extra dose of TLC. "It took a lot of fishing around to find instrumentalists willing to provide music for a hip-hop artist they probably didn't even know that well," he tells me over the phone from Providence. Eventually, the first portions rolled in via Mark Linkous, the now-deceased architect of indie-folk outfit Sparklehorse, who passed along unused demos for the rapper to chop and loop into new form. Linkous's collaboration enticed other names to come aboard.
Fleshed out with an unlikely cast, the album produces some spectacular results. On "Diamond and Pearls," DeVotchKa's elegant, antiquated folk turns ugly when Francis conflates prison imagery with jabs at organized religion. In "Slow Man," he embraces the notion of getting old atop Calexico's simmering blues. "Little Houdini" tells the saga of a real-life fugitive as ex-Grandaddy frontman Jason Lytle unravels a gloomy alt-country sprawl. Even Death Cab for Cutie's Chris Walla makes good, powering "Three Sheets to the Wind" with a tense Les Savy Fav–style guitar line.
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Sweaters and Sweatshirts
Stay warm and cozy in these beautiful women's sweaters and sweatshirts from Mary's Tack and Feed. This selection includes a variety of ladies' tops that make for excellent riding apparel. However, they're so soft and comfortable that you may just find yourself wearing them just as often when you're not on your horse. From classic equestrian sweaters to trendy horse zip-up hoodies, you'll find a wide selection of women's riding apparel to add to your wardrobe or give as gifts to loved ones. Shop now to find the perfect style to wear on chilly days.
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When the weather cools down, pull on one of these sweatshirts or sweaters to stay warm and comfortable. These casual tops are designed with female riders in mind, so they're perfect for training, working in the barn and a variety of other equestrian activities. They allow for the range of motion you need to maintain control on your horse and attend to indoor and outdoor chores. Layer a thick sweater or sweatshirt under a warm jacket or vest to get extra protection from the cold during the chilliest months of the year.
Pick Your Favorite Style
You'll have plenty of options for adding a new top to your closet when you shop this collection at Mary's Tack and Feed. We offer a variety of great styles from which to choose, including pullover sweaters, zip-up sweatshirts, cardigan sweaters, hooded sweatshirts, fleece tops, sweater capes and more. Plus, you'll find options from some of your favorite brands, including Cavalleria Toscana, Kingsland Equestrian, Stetson, Wrangler and Ariat shirts. Find something for yourself or pick out something to give as a gift to a fellow horse lover when you shop at Mary's Tack and Feed.