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It has been 10 years since the McCann family was plunged into a nightmare when three-year-old Madeleine went missing from their holiday resort in Portugal's Praia da Luz.
The little girl vanished in 2007 from the apartment as her parents dined with friends at a tapas bar nearby.
Kate and Gerry McCann, of Rothley, Leicestershire, have previously spoken of their bitter regret about leaving Madeleine and her two-year-old brother and sister, twins Sean and Amelie, alone.
The investigation into Madeleine's disappearance continues to this day, although it has been scaled down drastically.
Last month the Home Office confirmed £85,000 was being given to the UK-based Metropolitan Police inquiry to cover operational costs from April to September and, in all, more than £11 million has been spent on the inquiry so far.
A new programme from BBC's Panorama, Madeleine McCann: 10 Years On, will be revisiting the story a decade on to reexamine the evidence and investigate what became of the men questioned by British police about the case.
What are the key theories about Madeleine McCann's disappearance?
Burglary gone wrong
Madeleine may have woken up while an attempted robbery was taking place in the apartment.
She could then have been snatched when she disturbed the intruders.
In 2014 it emerged the Portuguese Attorney General had received a formal International Letter of Request from British officers investigating the mystery.
It was believed Met detectives made the request to interview three burglary suspects after mobile phone records placed them at the scene and revealed they had made an unusually high number of phone calls to each other shortly after the little girl disappeared.
They were arrested at the request of the Met and during interviews they admitted stealing from the apartments but denied they had anything to do with Madeleine's disappearance.
Paulo Ribeiro was also questioned as part of this theory, and told the BBC's Panorama: "I thought it was incredible.
"I knew of nothing when the police arrived at my door with a piece of paper that had a drawing on it, saying it bore a likeness to me and that someone had said I was involved and that I looked like the person who had kidnapped Maddie.
"I don't know who that person was."
Ribeiro claims to have been at home on the night in question and to never have been involved in any burglaries.
The BBC said Scotland Yard announced last week that there was no evidence to implicate the four men and the case against them had been closed.
In the days before she vanished, two other holiday flats in the same resort are reported to have been raided, with a child being awoken in one, though the suspects fled after the parents returned. The Portuguese police attached no significance to the incidents, however.
Ahead of the 10th anniversary of Madeleine's disappearance, the Metropolitan Police admitted that this theory has still not been entirely ruled out.
Abducted by a paedophile
Madeleine may have been snatched by a sex offender who later killed her.
Nine sexual assaults and three "near misses" on British girls between 6-12 years old were identified on the Algarve coast by police in the three years before Madeleine's disappearance, the Telegraph reports. In one of those cases, a 10-year-old was assaulted in an apartment in the resort of Praia da Luz.
Former Ocean Club waiter Euclides Monteiro was identified as a suspect in this attacks but he was already dead, having been killed in a tractor accident in 2009. He was eventually ruled out by DNA evidence, according to Sky.
There were also reports of a man seen carrying a child around Madeleine's age on the night she disappeared and an e-fit was featured on BBC One's Crimewatch.
The man remains a suspect.
Another image was also circulated after a friend of the McCanns, who was dining with them said she saw a man carrying a child in pink pyjamas when she went to check on her own child.
However, he was later identified by police and ruled out, according to the Telegraph.
Taken by child traffickers
This theory argues that Madeleine was taken by a gang of child traffickers, who took her abroad - probably to north Africa - and sold her into slavery.
It would not have taken long for a potential trafficker to drive to Portugal's border with Spain from the resort. From there it would be easy to travel by boat to northern Africa.
Investigators have pursued leads in Morocco, which is on a trafficking route to Mauritania, which only abolished slavery in 1981.
This included numerous reported sighting of Madeleine, including a very similar-looking girl who was photographed in Tangier, later identified as local Bouchra Akchar.
The McCann family actually went to Morocco in the weeks following Madeleine's disappearance to make an appeal for information.
Stolen to order for childless couple in pre-planned abduction
Madeleine could have been taken by a desperate couple who wanted a child of their own.
A number of people came forward to report people acting suspiciously around the resort at the time Madeleine vanished.
The son of a paedophile who lived an hour from the area at the time said that on his deathbed, his father claimed this was what had happened to the youngster.
Raymond Hewlett, whose past included a strong of child sex convictions and three jail terms, denied having anything to do with the disappearance of the toddler but said he knew she had been "stolen to order" by a gang who kidnap children for wealthy couples unable to have their own or adopt.
In 2013 the Met's Detective Chief Inspector Andy Redwood told Crimewatch: "Madeleine McCann's disappearance does, on one reading of the evidence, have the hallmarks of a pre-planned abduction."
She wandered off
It has been posited that Madeleine could have woken up and gone looking for her parents.
The apartment in which the McCanns were staying had been left unlocked so if she had managed to get out of the door, she could then have wandered off into the night.
A number of things could have then happened to her, but theories include that she could have been hit by a car, fallen into a well or a roadworks pits near the resort or been abducted.
What now for the McCann family?
Kate and Gerry McCann have vowed to do "whatever it takes for as long as it takes" to find their daughter.
In an interview with the BBC's Fiona Bruce, Madeleine's mother said: "My hope for Madeleine being out there is no less than it was almost 10 years ago."
Speaking ahead of the anniversary, the couple described it as a "horrible marker of time, stolen time".
Last month, Scotland Yard said its officers are still pursuing "critical" leads to trace Madeleine, with officers receiving information on a daily basis.
Kate McCann said: "We just have to go with the process and follow it through - whatever it takes for as long as it takes. There is still hope that we can find Madeleine."
Asked how the family would get through the anniversary, she added: "Every day is another day without Madeleine.
"I think we'll get by as we have any other year really, we'll be surrounded by family and friends, you know, obviously we'll be there remembering Madeleine, as we always have."
How will the 10th anniversary of Madeleine's disappearance be marked?
A special service will be held on Wednesday for missing people in the Portuguese village where Madeleine disappeared 10 years ago.
The service, expected to last for about 30 minutes, will take place at the Church of Nossa Senhora da Luz at the time that Madeleine went missing, reports the Press Association.
A public gathering is also expected to take place in her home village in Rothley, Leicestershire.
In previous years, villagers have joined members of the McCann family near the local war memorial on May 3 to offer their support to the continued search for her.
Madeleine McCann: 10 Years On airs at 9pm on Wednesday 3 May on BBC One.


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subset: commoncrawl


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I have always loved the label Moschino and I do own quite a few jewelry and accessory pieces (vintage...real and faux). I love the playfulness of this brand. BUT I'm not sure what this Spring Summer 2013 collection was really supposed to be doing. At first I thought it was going to be Mod. But then it turned a little here and a little there. I don't know how much of this is really wearable, but I think as a former fancy magazine editor, I think they're very cute and very editorial. My favorite things/pieces have to be all the white eyelet stuff. Anyone who knows me knows I love white or black eyelet. Anyway, have a look for yourselves. xx♡
more girl friday ♥ dita von teese perfume


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New Shit!
Hey there internet,
I don't know about you, but it's my favourite time of year. Varsity work: zero. Early mornings: zero. All that's on the agenda is gym (cuzzie), food and music. I've already taken slack for going to Nickelback, and had the opportunity to see how Rous pimped out his car. Over all its been a pretty good end to the year.
As much as I hate to say it, we're on holiday. And when I say hate, I mean love. And when I say we, I mean everyone in the band. I've only been free for a few weeks and already I've been Jesus, had my annual shave and been to Jozi (cuzzie). It's been pretty intense. And there is even more stuff happening in the rest of the holiday. I don't know how I'm going to manage the excitement. Probably yoga or something.
The best news I have to give you today is that we have some gigs (!!!) lined up for the near future. We'll be performing at Zula Bar on the 18th of December, at Casa Nostra on the 21st of December and at Ragazzi on the 8th of January. We're really rather excited. And we'll be bringing you new music to boot. What more could you ask for? Keep your eyes and potatoes peeled for news and cooking purposes respectively.
Where's my alarm clock?
Holy barbeque chicken wing it's been a long time!
It has come time for all of us at the University of Obama Activities to get out our timetables and wristwatch calculators and begin work on those assignments we were given to do during the holidays. Cause like really. Who thought that would actually get done "during the holidays". #retardswithPHDs
That's right. The holidays are coming to an end, and with that gone are the days of rising at noon, consuming the day with series and ending it of with a live rerun of Taylor in the Jive Cape Town Funny Festival at the Baxter Theatre. Taylor has been performing with a comedian called Wilfredo for the last month, along side Marc Lottering and Alan Committee to name a few. I must've seen the show 4 times, and every time was a laugh. (more…)
Mmm holidays – delicious, and indeed refreshing. There's nothing like waking up at 1 in the afternoon to remind you that for all the crime, corruption and disaster in the world, good still prevails. It's also refreshing to be writing a blog post again, now that I think about it. And now that I think about me thinking about how refreshing writing is just then, part of the reason why we're feeling so refreshed is probably because we're writing new music. Did that sentence confuse you? Well, me too. But the absence of a squiggle means that Bill Gates followed along quite nicely. Thank you, Microsoft.
(If you thought "Refreshing" referred to refreshing this website in order to receive new blog posts and are feeling disappointed, I'd like to apologise. I'd also like to apologise for the immense strain your keyboard must have taken refreshing this page over and over for the time we were away.) (more…)
First and Foremost
"Friday, Friday, gotta get down to Zula on Friday the 15th February 2013" – Rebecca Black
Truly a quote to live by from one of the finest performers of our generation. Lolwut. But seriously, we're so excited about this Friday we'd go even if Miss Black was going too. (We've confirmed that she won't be attending though, so don't worry)
For those of you who haven't been checking up on our Facebook/Twitter/Blog that you're currently reading, or have been otherwise unable to decipher our elated hysterics, we are proud to announce that we will be launching First and Foremost, our EP, this coming Friday at Zula. You read that right. No more of this "omg guise we're totally making a cd, you've got to believe us" – we're bringing you the goodies.
Things are very busy at Forefront Head Offices – flyers and posters have been printed, cd's are being duplicated, line-ups have been organised and venues acquired. It's all coming together. On the odd chance that you don't lay your eyes upon a flyer/poster/event-page, here's the plot synopsis for the event: (more…)
See You This Wednesday™
Hey errboddeh!
I know. It's been a while.
A good… Long while.
Now I am telling you that we're back with our first gig of the year at Zula Bar this Wednesday (16 Jan, 2013, just in case you wanted to put that date on your calendar or list of things you totally have to do) for Early Bird Wednesdays! FREE ENTRY (c'mon, seriously.) 4 BANDS –
9pm – Jesse And The Process
10pm – Set For The Sky
11pm – Forefront (that's us, in case you were weren't sure)
12pm – Elusive Moose
Gigs Gigs Gigs…
Hey hey hey hey! Hey! We here at Forefront HQ are all bumbling with excitement, as months and years and decades and centuries of work has finally brought us to the stage where, with a little bit more work, we can finally release our loooong anticipated, twice post-posed, twice cousin removed with no relation by marriage, FIRST & FOREMOST EP. As we speak, Forefront vocalist Taylor Jackson sits in Jason's home-studio where the two will be recording a few final vocal takes needed for the EP. As Taylor stands in concentration in the vocal booth, honing in his voice-missile at the targeted microphone, his cell phone begins to vibrate (producing a sound louder than if he had his phone on loud). It is none other than world renowned sex-offender, Rous.
"Hey Taylor!"
"Hi there!"
"Oh hey Rous! What's up?"
"Nothing much, just thinkin bout chooo"
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm I'm so gay for you!"
*Recorded dialogue, 100% facts.com lollol! (more…)
11: Catch Up
Morning world.
It's been years since my last post. Literally. Well a year. Well part of a year. It's been a while…You get the point.
In the time that I've been gone so much has happened. I've met Linkin Park and a whole lot of their awesome fans, Done a whole lot of recording and mixing for the EP, and I've taken a trip to the land of traffic and crime with the ginger.
Joburg was lots of fun. Dancing on high ways (Just for the record, this is a load of fun. If you guys have so much traffic there, I don't understand whai [why] this hasn't become a daily pass-time), almost getting arrested (literally), and klapping the gym of course. 'Cause when you're in Joburg so as the Joburgians do. Okay that last one didn't happen. (more…)
Joe Berg
It feels good to be back in civilisation. As you might be aware, myself and Jason spent the last two weeks in Johannesburg and have returned mugged, hijacked and dead. Not really though, don't worry. We actually had a spectacular time, learnt a few things and gained a few skills.
Without name-dropping the whole list, we have the best friends on earth. Brad, Dev, Shane, Roxie, Shan, Dan, Tayla, Chloé, Roy and everyone else we saw for less time, you're great. From letting us spoon and occasionally sleep in their houses to taking us to Gold Reef City, taking us quad biking and jet skiing, feeding us, teaching us mad drinking games, ice-skating, dancing on the highway, bowling, arcading, driving us around, jolling, letting us braai badly and play with their kittens, and showing us to their families – thank you guys. We will never forget the experiences you gave us, except for a few involving copious amounts of alcohol. Much luvvies. (more…)


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|Gentlemen Start Your Shopping!
I laugh about it now. There are a lot of opportunities to laugh at your former self after becoming a parent. I mean, they seemed so unsanitary, and certainly not a place I would ever want MY kids hanging out in. Grimy is probably the word that comes to mind to best describe my feelings towards them.
Of course now that I am a father - a full time working father who also drives his son to and from school- I know better. There are times, like tonight, when they seem nothing short of a Godsend.
I'm referring, by the way, to those shopping cart cars that line the entrances of local grocery stores. Yes, those grimy, beaten up red cars with the yellow roofs attached to the front of a shopping cart.
But new dad's take note. Now, if I am lucky enough to score one of them while stopping in to pick up a few items for dinner on a solo trip home at the end of the day with Lukas, I consider myself golden.
Take last night for example. After a long hard day at his daycare Lukas was T.I.R.E.D. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything at the house to make for dinner so I had to stop at the grocery on the way home. I had tried a walk in with him under similar circumstances a few days before, with disastrous consequences. He was mobile, tired, hungry, and grabby. Needless to say that outing didn't end so well.
But last night we scored a red car on the way in to the store. He actually wanted a blue version he spied as we pulled up, but once we got there, it had been commandeered by a set of twins. Lukas just looked a me with a 'Dude! Where's my car?' expression, before jumping into a red model. From there I was able to dart from aisle to aisle looking for items on my list, keeping him entertained by zipping around the store at a jogging pace making hairpin turns around newly formed displays of crackers and soda.
I have found the key is to treat the ride like it's the 24 hours of Le Mans. And most importantly, to keep moving. I don't need to tell you how many 'treats' they keep on the bottom shelves at these places. There were several occasions last night where zoomed right past an item while Lukas' arm and finger were outstretched and he implored me to "Stop! Stop! Look! Look Daddy! Look!"
There were even a couple of times when he tried to crawl out the window of the cart car while it was still moving, ala Bo or Luke Duke in the General Lee. I think I even heard him let out a high pitched "Yeeeee Haaaaw!" as we passed that same blue car sailing fast down one aisle. I could have swore one of the twins looked a little like Roscoe P. Coltrain.
And when he wasn't itching to get out and grab something tasty that we passed, he was actually hamming it up with the other patrons. There were several folks who were caught off guard by a tiny little voice inside the car saying "Hello!" as we passed them. Invariably, this brought a few smiles to some otherwise serious faces.
No, I no longer have disdain for the grocery cart kids cars. I now think they are a pretty awesome way for me to keep my son entertained and out of trouble while I am getting some necessary shopping done. And despite being foiled from grabbing all the goodies the store has to offer as he passes, I think the amusement park ride type of atmosphere has Lukas sold on them too.
Plus, as the 3 year old smiling blonde who came up to talk to him while he sat in the car in the checkout line can attest, the fairer sex seem to dig a guy with a cool set of wheels too.
Vroom, Vroom indeed.


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There's no denying that Thomas Dyk remains one of the best-loved STAXUS icons – and this classic scene with the relatively unknown star, James Byron, provides a plethora of reasons to account for that fact. Unbelievably good-looking, able to give and receive cock with equal abandon, and always more than happy to get his face splattered with spunk – let's face it, guys, what isn't there to love about this fellow? Certainly Byron seems to fall for his charms from the very start, that's for sure – like so many other guys before and since! – and before you know it he's allowing Dyk to reach into his trousers to see how their two dicks compare.
Needless to say, both buddies are soon rock hard and ready for action; signalling the start of a terrific sucking session that culminates in the two fellows 69-ing each other like a couple of cheap whores. Not that either of these guys seem content with just pleasuring each other's dicks. In no time at all they're both eagerly rimming each other's ass-holes simultaneously – the kind of five-star performance for which STAXUS is rightly proud and that'll no doubt have you furiously working your own shaft!
Don't run the risk of blowing too soon, however. For the flip-flop fuck that follows really is second-to-none; with Dyk first riding Byron's knob cowboy-style, then banging his buddy raw in return, then finally getting his ass re-pounded missionary style. It's no fucking wonder that the chap is soon spewing over his own toned belly; before allowing Bryon to wrap up the scene by kneeling over his face and creaming his mouth!


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At first we were not going to go.
As we made plans for a last-minute business/pleasure trip to New York City, my husband and I decided not to go see what is left of the World Trade Center — thinking it would be disrespectful to the thousands who died on the site and to those who lost loved ones there.
But go we did for the chance to see a snippet of history that is thankfully disappearing a little each day in the massive cleanup. Part of our curiosity to see the devastation stemmed from the fact that we had stayed at the Marriott World Trade Center back in 1998, a hotel that up until Sept. 11 was situated between the two towers. For $12 or $15, you could board a long escalator on the mezzanine of one of the towers, then take an elevator to the top of the world.
On our first morning back in New York, we took the subway downtown as far as we could to the site (some subway stations were damaged in the attack). For gawkers like us, the site can now be seen only atop a special platform built by the city to control the crowds — a brilliant move that no doubt will help workers haul the tons of debris out of the hole faster.
As we neared the WTC site, we noticed that certain streets in the financial district were blocked off from traffic. People with briefcases still hurried about, but there were plenty of construction workers there, too, and a feeling that something was not right. "The Closest Beer to Ground Zero" read an ad taped to a traffic blockade, and several unmentionable jabs at Osama were also taped up along the streets.
There is no way to pass the site without feeling the great loss of so many people. Long plywood walls that block people from the site have become memorials for those who died. Every inch is covered with hand-written poems, good-byes, a wedding picture cut from a newspaper, baseball caps, T-shirts, a thick scrapbook opened and leaning against a wall.
Standing at the bottom of the long plywood platform, we expected to go right up, but in another smart move by the city, you must have a ticket for a specific time. Even smarter is the fact that those tickets, which are free, can only be obtained at a ticket booth several blocks away. Less congestion, less people for workers to deal with.
The line was extremely long for the tickets, but it was a line that moved at lightning speed. Again, we were impressed at how well New Yorkers have organized this ordeal, always with respect for the dead.
With tickets for 1 to 1:30 p.m., we headed for the site and found a line had formed that stretched a good two blocks. Our hearts sank thinking we'd never make it to the front before our time was up, but again we found a well-run system. A loud man in an orange jacket was on the job, moving people up to the front so they would not miss their chance to see the site. I doubt, though, that they would have turned anyone away.
We had just five minutes on the platform. We found a spot in the small, quiet crowd and looked down into what at first looked like a typical construction site. The recognizable pieces of the building have been hauled away, leaving mostly just dirt and rubble in a huge hole.
Equipment, trailers and men in hardhats were everywhere, but a look at the damaged buildings around the site reminded you of the terrible event. One young man spent his entire five minutes with hands folded and eyes shut tight, praying for the dead. It was an unnaturally quiet place for New York, except for the sound of machinery clearing out the debris.
So that we may never forget this tragedy, pieces of the buildings have been hauled to an empty tarmac at Kennedy Airport to save for a future memorial. One of the most alarming items, as reported in last Sunday's New York Times, is a block of fused metal and debris that is actually four floors of the Trade Center squashed into just two feet.
New York is a place where people walk fast with eyes to the ground — perhaps because it's cold or perhaps they don't want to meet the eyes of so many people who beg for money on the street. When the Times asked people to write in with ideas about what makes a New Yorker a New Yorker, one funny, but probably true, reply was:
"You're extremely embarrassed when your out-of-town guest speaks to your neighbor in the elevator."
Perhaps, though, New Yorkers too often get a bad rap. Their alarm, their grief is evident in the American flags that hang in apartment windows, the anti-Osama merchandise for sale on the street and in gift stores, countered by even more massive quantities of T-shirts, caps, mugs and other items for sale in support of the New York Fire Department and Police Department. Most impressive of all, however, is their respect for the dead in the quick, quiet, and well-organized way they move people through Ground Zero for a quick glimpse of history. In their hands, what could have been a chaotic, crowded tourist site is transformed into a small, quiet place to reflect and to remember.
Going to Ground Zero made me feel a bit like an intruder, like someone who goes to gawk after a terrible tornado has struck a neighborhood. Still, I am thankful for my brief chance to see this piece of history that will soon be gone, and for the chance to remember, to pray for everyone who was caught by surprise by a terrible act of terrorism.
Contact MBJ Staff Writer Kelly Russell Ingebretsen at firstname.lastname@example.com.
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Hayward police are looking for an armed man who shot a loss prevention security officer and pistol whipped another at a Home Depot Sunday afternoon.
The Home Depot is on Hesperian Boulevard, not far from the Southland Mall. The shooting happened outside the Home Garden Center.
The suspect was described by police as a light-skinned Hispanic male in his 30s, 6-feet tall, with short grayish hair worn in a small ponytail. He was wearing long denim shorts, an orange t-shirt, gray sweatshirt and white socks pulled up to his knees.
Police said two loss-prevention security officers who were on duty spotted a man trying to walk out of the store with a cart full of tools without paying. When the loss prevention officers approached the man outside the Garden Center, a struggled ensued and the suspect pulled out a gun and shot one loss prevention officer and used the revolver to strike the other on the left side of his head, according to police.
The home improvement store said the man who was shot is still in the hospital. Both security officers are expected to recover, according to Hayward police.
At the time of the shooting, the store was open and full of shoppers. The store closed immediately following the shooting, but opened shortly thereafter.
Shoppers said it was a bit chaotic at the time of the shooting.
"We pulled in just as the first officer arrived, and there was some hysterical people in the gardening department, and I think the gentleman ran away," shopper Reno Caldwell said. "And when we went into the store, we were told that the security officer had an incident, and apparently, he was shot."
A spokesperson for Home Depot said the store did not think its customers were at risk, so it remained open Sunday as the investigation continued.
The suspect is still on the loose, and he was last seen running across Hesperian Boulevard.
Police canvassed the area for security footage at local businesses.


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Magnify, Sanctify
[In] the process of grieving we wait in full knowledge that what we wait for will not appear..
–Charles Baxter, "Stillness"
It's time to feel better. Shloshim is over, the thirty days when we can't go to parties or clip our fingernails. I'm not observant but Nate was, so we're trying it on. I am. Going through the Jewish motions. I shaved my thirty-day beard and got a haircut. My beard is gray though my hair's still brown, most of it; I still have most of it. In the barber's mirror I looked younger. Shloshim means thirty.
For the moment I am able to work. I meet my scheduled classes. In accord with Jewish law I went back right after shiva. But after three hours of studio I drive home as if I just woke up. As if all day there was another I out in the world, affecting people. Who came to my office hour? Was I helpful? Who in the hallway said comforting things? I try to imagine how I look, zombie-ish, probably. Before I shaved, someone said I looked like a hippie. Thea says I look shell-shocked.
Not that my job is in danger. People are kind; I have what is called leeway. Praise ye the tenure system. But where my emotions reside, or are said to, I don't care. I'm trying to be accurate. The sheets are off our mirrors, and I look at myself to see what's left. I must care about some things. Thea; Dylan. I don't want to lose my job. I want to do my part for my abridged family. But when Dylan tells me a stupid, funny thing his gym teacher said, and I know he won't always be twelve years old wanting my attention, I get heavy in the gut, like I've eaten too much. Thea and I keep to our sides of the bed like there's a hole in the middle. But when I think of holes, all I see is Nate's open grave and the basketball his friend threw in for him. It bounced on the casket and bounced out and I started to laugh. O God.
I never thought he would die. Not when he was diagnosed. Not when the cancer came back. Not even as he took his last breath, because who knew there would not be another? His breaths were unusually slow that night, far apart, and I lay beside him reading to him from Dave Barry and doing some cheerleading in my mind. Come on, breathe a little faster. Deeper. He exhaled once, harsh and loud, in his bed at home—not a hospital bed, the same futon he'd slept on since he left the crib. He was walking, going to the bathroom on his own. He was not in hospice care. With a spurt of hopefulness I waited for his next, yet-more-vital breath, and it didn't come. It didn't come. I waited, putting off full comprehension. Then something must have thrust me through and past, because for no reason that I grasp even now (my unbelief having just been reaffirmed), I rolled over to him and murmured in his ear,
Hear, O Israel. The Lord our God, the Lord is One.
Blessed be God's name and glorious kingdom forever and forever, the mandated last words on a Jew's lips. I hope he heard. And that it made his light glow brighter, if there was light. Now, though, I wish I'd held him. Maybe his mind was still chugging away in there (according to the Tibetan Book of the Dead the soul lingers by the body for three days). His neck was warm. It's been two months, spring is here, and I'm freezing cold.
The Jewish Way of Mourning
Today V'ad Chesed called. There's a retreat in the fall for Jewish parents who lost children to cancer. At Camp Osher Hanefesh where Nate went in remission. It's free, even the plane fare. Thea thinks we should go. I don't know. Being with all those believers. At Camp Happiness.
Before he got sick we were happily secular. I was, yes, a Son of the Covenant but had no such plans for the boys. We joined a temple only because my father begged, in honor of his father. Bet Hashemesh, House of the Sun, called by Nate (haha!) House of the Rising Sun (not that he necessarily understood the joke). It was Reform, tolerant and inclusive. Rabbi played the guitar, God was unisex, called God and not He/ Him. But the main sanctuary was domed like a church, a big bubble for genderless "God" to bob around in. In Exodus, Jews prayed in a tabernacle, 45' x 15' x 15' (multiply by 2/3 to convert back to cubits), long and low like a Frank Lloyd Wright house. The kids had their own complaints: Sunday school didn't count (as did their grammar school). It took up time better spent on basketball. When Tuesday-Thursday practice with the cantor was added to the program, Nate threw a fit.
I can't say we tried that hard to return him to Yahweh. Why make a kid recite mishmash, not to mention what the party costs. Then our personal bomb drops; someone hooks us up with V'ad Chesed, the Jews' Make-a-Wish. And instead of Disney World or lunch with Bret Favre, Nate gets a Hassid "big brother," to visit him in the hospital and take his mind off of bad things when he's home. And maybe convert him too, but so what? Whatever his brand of Judaism, this young man was just plain good; seemed to enjoy hanging out with a sick kid. Seriously ill. He took Dylan on too, took them places we avoided that they loved—horror films, laser tag, a huge, crowded video arcade called Dave & Busters—and suddenly Nate was a Hassid. We went to a dinner for cancer families, sixty or eighty people at a kosher restaurant in Skokie. We ate in a private hall, and afterward there was dancing and singing, the cancer boys and their Lubavitcher mentor-pals circling the tables. It was a bit disconcerting since the girls didn't dance and the men we met wouldn't shake Thea's hand, but the sick kids were into it—teenagers in baseball caps or openly, exuberantly bald, hopping around like I never would have at that age, some of them older than Nate. And suddenly in and out of the hospital Nate was studying Torah. Life beckoned sacrosanctly. His shrunken tumor was removed, scans showed him cancer-free. One steamy July morning he became a bar mitzvah, impressing us all with the clarity and length of his recitation.
I was developing a mild, grudging affection for Judaism. My firstborn son and I, Sons of the Covenant. Now Dylan's is coming up. I cringe at the sound of his Torah CD. Please shut the door.
The one part of Judaism that still makes sense is shiva. Not the food people bring, or even their heartfelt sympathy, but the fact that Thea and I had to sit on low stools for a week. Our friends and family sat on chairs and we sat at their feet on footstools, meaning we had been downed, Cast Down in Fortune and Men's Eyes, down on our luck, down and out. We were. How right, to enact it.
But shiva lasts only seven days. Shiva means seven. Shiva is long gone, and I still want to sit on a low stool. I could sit on a footstool the rest of my life.
Who I used to be
A reasonable man. A happy man, shy lover of women (too shy to take full advantage). Passionate lover of Thea, who accepted me despite my advanced age. Now I look at my wife and see she is pretty. I look at the young women in my classes: Pretty. So-so. Not. I attach names to faces, but to what end?
Office hour
Denise Lockhart came to see me today. She's the student you love to hate, or at least I do. Streaked yellow hair, big breasts, big confiding smile. She might have run the show in her high school, and she could draw after a fashion—horses and children's faces with big, sad, eyelashed eyes; here she can't understand why she isn't at the top of the class. Some teachers are good with plodders. They remember how they came to know what they know and guide the student there step by painstaking step. For me, if there were steps in my learning I've forgotten them. I'm not a bold thinker but that's what I'm drawn to, quick, inventive students like Thea was. Although I try to be patient with Denise, in the end she's near tears. She dumps her model bus stop on my desk and half yells, "What's wrong with it?" and can't or won't recognize that the painstakingly glued flower boxes on her plexi walls block the view of an approaching bus. I show her Brian Donleavy's model, an L-shaped plexi front to block the wind, but she's relentless. She spent all weekend on it, the semester is ending, only one more project, she needs an A on it to get a B in the course, she doesn't know where to start!
A cramp starts in my heart and travels the length of my arms to my hands, which curl with a bizarre rage. At this girl for whom tragedy is a C in Design II. Maintaining, however, the required professional distance, I suggest a tutor. I recommend someone, a graduate student to help her develop her ideas, but she's out the door without even a grudging thank-you. Without her model, which sits grumpily on my desk confirming the badness of my teaching. Fuck me.
Persistence of memory
Nathan's former violin teacher sent us a CD of Nate's last recital. Bach's Sonata in C for solo violin. It's complicated, fast music. I listen with my eyes closed, picturing, grateful for the clarity of my memory: instrument tucked under his chin at the front of the room his teacher rented at the Three Arts Club. He's pretty good, I say to myself, although in truth I believed he was very good, gifted, his sure, agile fingers, and his heart for the music that governed how long he held certain notes. On the third or fourth go-around Thea comes into my study, goes straight to the radio-CD player and turns it off.
I threw my coffee mug. Not at her, but in her direction. In truth, I wanted to slug her.
"How can you stand it?" she says.
I can't even look at her.
"I'm sorry," she says, "but it goes all through the house. It goes into my bones."
He's already in your bones, he's in our bones, I think but don't say.
Of course I apologized too. The cup didn't touch her, and luckily Dylan was out of the house. She got a broom and swept up the mess. She kissed my cheek. "Allan, I miss you."
By every criterion my wife is doing better than me. She wrote thank yous to everyone who tried to help us these two years, to people who did no more than send cards. A card for a card. Now it's bar mitzvah plans. We do for Dylan no less than for Nate. She's right. She hasn't started traveling again but she goes to the office, comes back with groceries, makes dinner. She talks on the phone a lot. She wants to go to Europe next summer, the three of us, with the Rosenthals or maybe just Kevin Rosenthal. She started taking karate. I don't think she loved Nate less than I did, or that her feelings are shallower than mine. But she seems to want to forget him or at least allow forgetting to take place in her.
Forgetting for me is a new death.
My bad
I'd nearly made it through the semester without calling negative attention to myself. On the weary last afternoon of the last class, my Design IIs delivered their final projects and piled out undifferentiated. I'm straightening the chairs, a task that helps me leave one room and enter another, and I fix for a moment on the churning dust in the slanting sunlight from the high oblong windows, dust to which I will one day to return, and there's Denise in front of me. Her face is pale, her gaze neurotically intense. Under her paint and glue-daubed T-shirt there is no sign of a brassiere.
"Can I help you?" I say, a statement I'm pretty sure isn't actionable. I gaze beyond her nicely formed breasts like a teacher zombie, wondering why she's paying so much attention to me when most students don't seem to know my name. She fidgets with a plastic bag in her hand. Digs her toe into the floor tile. Then she opens the bag and hands me a disc, looking hard at me like I'm supposed to understand something. The disc, home-made, is titled in the handsome lettering of one who has taken graphic design, Stress Relief in the Age of Anxiety.
Denise is eighteen but looks fourteen, there's nothing she can give me, and the idea that she doesn't know it starts me breathing hard. I grope for a mask of courtesy. "Thanks, that's kind of you," then, I don't know, I indulge myself: "But I'd rather you'd brought me an apple?"
She looks at me for a second while the full nastiness of my words blooms inside her. And inside me too. I'm wondering whether or not an apology would make it worse when she's out the door.
When friends visit, Thea entertains them. "It's right to grieve," they say to me, "it's only four months." Weeks later: "Not even a year." I try to think when he died. It seems long ago, it seems like yesterday. It was January 6. In an ice storm, broken branches on the streets. It's May now, new leaves on the trees. To Thea they say, "Are you going back on the road or is it too much now?" To me, "Are you seeing someone?"
"Yes, though it's pointless," I tell the first one who asks. With the next I don't bother to elaborate. "Yes." There's dead silence, a void, familiar to me but probably not to my consoler.
My mother calls with advice. "Do something new," she says. "That you aren't used to. It'll put your mind in a new place."
"How about Sudoku?" I say. Every morning I do the Sudoku in the Tribune. I'm pretty good at it.
"How about tennis? Or yoga? Men do yoga these days."
"You know what's really sad?" I say. "He died without ever having sex. I think about that."
"Honey," she says.
The Hassid brother calls to say that he and a group from Chesed are saying prayers for Nate's soul. "Thank you," I say, meaning, Is that all? Meaning, What for? Meaning: Oh yeah? Well, I'm playing Sudoku!
I asked for and received a leave for the fall. My shrink says I'm depressed. Well, duh, as Nate used to say. But, according to Diane, until my depression lifts I won't be able to feel grief. Ah, motivation? But she has her MSW. She says I'm mired in guilt. She thinks I think I failed Nate somehow.
Obedient client that I am, I've addressed the question. I don't say Kaddish, which may delay Nate's entry into Jewish Heaven. As a Jew, I am obviously half-assed. Half-hearted. I can't magnify and sanctify anything, let alone Whoever's running this show.
But sincerely, Diane, with all my flaws, when it comes to Nate I find no other fault in me. I was with him in the hospital, and at home I slept in his room. Beside him on his futon. Thea was in and out, so it was up to me, but I wanted to. If I stinted someone it was Dylan, all those nights at the Rosenthals'. They, if anyone, deserve a thank you. And despite everything, in the face of shit (it's true!) Nate's final year was happy. We hung out. We laughed, a lot. We had a pact. No tears.
He was afraid, of course, when his cancer came back, and though I was freaking out I didn't lose it. The test—of my adulthood, my self-control—came after the second scan. The doctors mentioned new tumor growth and we were trying to absorb it, trying to climb back toward hopefulness. There were second-line drugs. Nate, who had played basketball the previous day, sat on the hospital bed in his street clothes, awaiting the first round of what Paul jokingly called Chemo Lite: wouldn't even touch his hair, which had grown in thick and curly. Nate felt fine. Then the Bad Doctor laid it all out right in front of us and Nate too—may Someone forgive her (because I won't)—the five new tumors she saw in the scan—five—and a spot near his heart. Spot? I wanted to strangle her, but it was too late. Nate's eyes widened, his chin wobbled, and I can hear his voice, suddenly high and thin and helpless: Does this mean I'm going to die? Such a wee voice. When I think of that woman, my hands still clench. Later Thea and I would sit in the car in the parking lot and weep, but Nathan got only our strength, such as it was. I sat down on his bed and took hold of his hand. "Look at me," I said. "I will not let you die, do you hear me?" I outlined all the second line drugs for his treatment, and angiostatin, which cuts off the tumor's blood supply, and then herbs and acupuncture and as final assurance a Brazilian faith healer. A trip to Brazil, him and me. "My grand finale?" he said, a riff. He felt better already. I loved him so much at that moment I thought I'd fall to my knees.
"Let's just call her back-up," I said, and he laughed. Yes, he died, but not in pain, not miserably.
Am I protesting too much?
Family visit
In June my folks fly in from Florida. They are elderly but healthy, Dad a golfer, Mom a player of bridge. Mom, at Arrivals with tears in her eyes: "It should've been me and not him. I'd've traded places." She said the same thing at the funeral but it's true. She would have, if she could have. My father scowls, which means pain, not disapproval (it took me years to understand that). He sits in the passenger seat. We scowl at each other companionably.
"How's Dylan holding up?" my mother calls from the back. "We're so excited about his bar mitvah. And Thea sounds good on the phone. Are you taking care of yourself?"
"Don't I look like it?"
I'm aware of their tanned, creased, concerned faces. They will die one day, soon maybe. All of us will die.
The next day all five of us visit the cemetery, Nate's as yet unmarked grave. Tonight for the first time in years we will go to services. Dylan starts to protest then cuts it off, good boy. "You haven't ordered the stone?" says my father. "You ought to, you know. Want me to take care of it?"
"It's under control," I say. It's under Thea's control. I don't look at her but feel her shoulder against mine. We gaze down at the close-mown, unmarked sod.
If loss is measured by the mandated length of the mourning period, the most profound loss in Judaism is of one's parents. I regard them, trying crazily to gauge my response to their deaths. Parents are mourned eleven months, till the stone setting, while official mourning for children ends at shloshim. My extended mourning, therefore, is unofficial. Perhaps that's why it seems endless. A state of being.
In the Exodus days children of course died aplenty.
She's back to work full time now, travel and all. New people, sights, sounds, smells. New, new, new. At home, less desperately lively, she attends to me. Today she brings me a second cup of coffee and a bagel from the good bagel place near us. She brings a chair into my office and sets it next to mine.
She seems to want to talk, which makes me nervous, as I have nothing to say. If I have to be with people, I want at least two in the party, so they can talk to each other. She puts her head on my shoulder. I smell her shampoo, which I've always liked. What did we used to discuss, the boys? Our work? Another stupid thing Bush said? The August sun burns through the window onto my keyboard. My hands feel ice cold. "I'm cold," I say.
"So turn off the air-conditioning," she says. "Put on a sweater." She goes out and brings back a sweater. She opens a window. We're swathed in hot air. "You seem—" She looks at me.
"How do I seem?"
"I don't know. Angry? Lost?"
I shrug. "I hate Name-That-Feeling. It's bad enough with Diane."
"Allan," she says, "do you love me? Or is that an ignorant question? I know it's hard to feel it when you're in pain."
Her voice is barely inflected, but I recognize the question as one I'm not permitted to avoid. I try not to sound surly. "Nothing's changed in that department." Then, more gently, "I know I don't show it these days."
She leaves the room but not huffily. I sit and shiver in my sweater, wondering what she decided not to say. I want a divorce. Wondering when she'll say it.
I've tried to remember what I was like before Nate died. Private. Gruff? An asshole? (But it wasn't my job to please the world). I was also, I believe, easily hurt, though I don't know how much of it came through. Humorless I may have seemed although Thea could make me laugh. She used to like that about me—that she, and few others, could make me laugh.
Is there sex after death?
Tonight is Friday and Dylan is sleeping across the street. Thea's old silky pajamas slide her across the bed to me. Thea wants to make love. Why not, we're alone? We can groan, we can shout with joy.
Obedient chap that I am, I give it a shot. Our lips come together. My hands commence what hands do in such circumstances. We tried it once or twice in the winter. Disaster. I'm glad she still wants to. But I may have transcended sex. I don't even masturbate. She looks at me and I have to say something. "I'm sorry?"
With a whispered curse she rolls out of bed. She stands over me, punching out her complaints. "We have one child left. Do you know how much weight he's gained? It's like your life is over, it's so—" she sifts for the word "—self-indulgent!" She takes her pillow and goes to sleep in Dylan's empty room.
Alone, I try to explain myself: Nate was my boy like Dylan is hers. When I tried to soothe infant Dylan, when I picked him up he would cry louder. He wouldn't even let me give him a bottle. Nate loved both of us.
He tosses me a note from his camp counselor. Mom's in London so it's my problem. The envelope is sealed; he hasn't tried to open it. I understand, or think I understand: He doesn't care. "So how's camp?" I say.
This is a new word for him, at least to my ears, but I take it in. "In what way does it suck?"
"I want to stay home. Please?"
The note mentions problems with another camper, unspecified. It is handwritten and signed Tiffany Diebenkorn. Tiffany wants me to talk to him about aggression. Using words, not fists.
Dylan stands at the door of my office, hopping from one foot to the other like he always does. He has gotten a little tubby, but he looks like himself; no suppurating wounds. He can't stay home. I've gone through the Sudoku book that Nate got in the hospital, all the puzzles, easy, medium, hard and evil. Now I download them from the website. Mind-numbed days pass, in which I should be writing a new article. A book: Interiors of Grief? "Do me a favor," I say. "It's only one more week. And you like the sports, right? They have soccer?"
"It's a week and a half." He stomps his foot, a very minor loss of self-control.
"Please," I say. "Exercise is good for you. And there's a reward. Which would you rather have, a computer or a new bike?"
"I have Nate's computer!" He glowers at me.
"Well, what do you want?"
"Take me to Great America?"
He sounds almost eager; I am suffused with relief. "Sure! I'll take you and Kevin."
"Kevin's so gay."
"Please don't use that word as a pejorative. Do you know what that means?"
He goes down the hall to his room and bangs the door shut.
Zombie as cuckold
I read the counselor's letter over the phone to Thea in her hotel room. It's midnight in London, dinnertime here. Ordinarily after a couple of minutes with my itinerant wife I'm ready to hang up, but I've resolved to be patient. I give Dylan the phone, hear the lilt of their voices. Upbeat. Liking each other. She will approve, I think, my concern for him.
When I retake the phone she says drily, "So what are you going to do?"
My response is automatic. "What do you want me to do?"
She's swallowing exasperation. "You could start by talking to the counselor."
"Tiffany Diebenkorn? What would I say?"
"Oh I don't know!" she cries sarcastically. "Are you free this weekend?'" Her laugh is furious.
"What have I done, Thea?"
"Good question. What have you done?"
Her words clatter like hail on the roof. I want to calm her down. "I'm sorry. I know you wish I were more proactive—"
"Sorry? Are you really sorry? What are you sorry for?"
I'm thrown for a loop. She has been angry with me before, but not sarcastic. She's drunk or she has started to despise me, I'm thinking, when the picture comes clear: There's someone in the room with her.
I've had intuitions in the past; they rarely pan out. Thea doesn't try to get off the phone. But she bursts into giddy laughter, which comes from somewhere beyond me—even her apology (for her so very mild outburst), and her murmured I love you as we hang up. Afterward I wished I'd said coolly, You aren't by chance fucking somebody over there? Though, I suppose, I can hardly blame her.
With Thea returned to the marital bed, I have a bad dream. We're at "Fallingwater," a Frank Lloyd Wright house in Pennsylvania we visited as a family the year before Nate got sick. There's a huge fireplace made of living rock, a natural boulder at the heart of the house while everything else went up around it. It's a house that lets the outside in, that blurs the boundaries between outside and inside; I love that place and the boys loved it too. A stairway leads down to a stream you can see through a glass hatch. Which opens, and you walk down and stand in the stream. Nate asked me to build us one like it with a water slide. In my dream Nate and I are looking down through the glass at the fast-moving water, and then Nate is gone, the hatch yawning open. I jump into the icy stream and wake up with a bad headache.
It's midnight, I've slept an hour. Thea lies on her side of the bed with her back to me. "You aren't over it," I say. "Don't pretend."
She turns. I see she's been crying. I prepare to hold her like a good husband but she will not be touched. "I'm trying to live with it!"
She sits up, hugs her knees, and tells me about her affair—she is indeed having an affair, in London, on and off for two years and more, it started when Nate got sick. Do I want details? I want no details. "Does it matter to you? Tell me the truth," she says. "Is there anything you want to say about it? Would you like to know, for instance, if I'm in love with him?"
"No," I say, suppressing I knew it! and the concomitant tone of triumph. I do not feel triumph.
It's Friday night, Shabbat, the night that married Jews are enjoined to conjoin. I take my pillow into the den and lie down on the couch. Instead of Thea and her lover, I focus on Nate, who made us keep Shabbat even in the hospital, with electric candles since fire wasn't allowed. We brought challah and blessed it. We blessed the hospital grape juice and sometimes smuggled in wine. We had given up on his bar mitzvah but now he wanted it. The cantor came to the hospital and they practiced together, Nate sitting up in bed with a tube running into his port from a bag of yellow liquid that couldn't have been good for him. With poison dripping into his vein, he and the cantor sang. Nurses stood at the door. It was sweet and uncanny, something going on bigger than all of us.
If I were a believer I'd hate God for setting him up like that. I think how Nate must have felt. Betrayed.
The zombie walks
The weekend passes in a surreal silence that not even Dylan tries to break. On Monday as usual Thea goes to work. As usual I drop Dylan at camp. He doesn't resist; doesn't say goodbye. I wonder if this is how we are going to live from now on. In silence, eating, sleeping, working. It's how I've been living.
I don't want to go home. In my car in my fully legal parking spot, I think of Dylan behind the doors of the Evanston Y. Try to picture him being welcomed into roiling groups of boys his age. Is that unrealistic? At the wheel of my car in front of the building I wait for my body to choose its next move, trying to remember where I read that 75% of the couples who lose a child get divorced and consider the effect on the statistic from sexual betrayal. That I sensed it before the confession may have lessened the shock. I'm pretty sure my former self—though more and more a figment—would have felt bad, but then? My current self would not choose divorce.
Then I'm walking into the Y's odors of chlorine and teenage sweat. There's a glass enclosure with a small aperture through which papers can pass. "Where is Tiffany Diebenkorn?" I say into the aperture more aggressively than necessary. The ceiling is two stories high; words lose their way. I wave the counselor's letter, am led down a corridor to a door that opens onto a small office where, behind a large desk, as young and round-faced as when the roles were reversed, sits Miss Denise Lockhart. Director, says the tag on her shirt.
We gaze at each other while perspective dissolves and reforms, I imagine, for both of us. If she says Omigod! I am resolved not to sneer. Professional as you please, though, she waves me to a seat. I place the letter on the desk and watch her read it. Her hands are plump and white, holding each other. I imagine their warmth, the dampness of the palms. "I feel so bad," she says. "About your son, I mean your other son . . ." There are tears in her voice. Then without a thought, though I am not an impulsive man, I have taken hold of one of her hands and pressed it to my lips. She doesn't cry out. Nor does she snatch it back. Her ears are red and she's panting slightly. Eventually our hands return to where they belong. "I'm sorry," I say when I have regained some control of myself. "I sincerely do not want to hurt you."
She blinks and the tears are gone from her eyes. "How could you hurt me?" she says. "Do you think like you're God or something?"
Sex and death
Then there's the night soon afterward when Thea sweeps into the den where I'm trying to sleep. She turns on a light. "Do you know how angry I am?" she says.
"I don't know," I say. It seems insufficient. "I am, too."
She snorts contemptuously. "That's better than nothing."
We stare at each other across our customary gulch. Then she yanks off my blanket, yanks off my PJs, steps out of her bathrobe.
I said I was angry, but am I? Heat is steaming from her. Her skin glows, as perhaps it did with that chap of hers, that bloody Brit. But the part of me that once held jealousy seems to have been excised—whatever held my manhood up to be honored and avenged. My brain is an empty hole in the ground.
Then I think of her free, of me, free of pain and grief while I'm drowning in it, and a small but palpable clot of what might be rage rolls around my chest. It finds a site in one of the valves of my heart and swells, and I come at her howling like a sick dog. I don't want to hurt her, but I'm not protecting her either, and if I hurt her, what does it matter with all the other pain? She stuffs an end of the sheet in her mouth and comes harder than I've ever felt her, gasping and sobbing and holding onto me. For a second I'm hovering over the face of the deep, King of the Universe, creator, destroyer.
"You're shaking, Allan."
Am I?
"Please look at me."
My eyes will not focus. I sense, faintly, the locus of sounds and smells that is my wife.
"I don't want to have a tragic life," she says in a tiny, child's voice: "Is that too much to ask?"
The word seems to arrest her. Her eyes scan my face. Interesting am I. An odd, interesting chappy. "You're so wry," she says. "That's what I've always loved about you. One of the things." She smiles. Then tears begin.
She is much younger than me. It worried me then I forgot about it. Overlooked. Something. She hugs me hard then releases me, quick and sorrowful. She breathes, "I'm moving out. I have to, Allan. I'm so, so sorry."
I'm nodding agreement. Of course she has to. No point in arguing. I'm not God, am I?
But on its own a groan of sorts is rising in my chest. No more loss, please. I'm down on my knees before her, an abject petitioner, with nothing to offer but my entire, rich to overflowing, share of our pain. "Please don't," I say, a fragile pair of words, foolish, reckless, wafting out into the world as if they think they can soften a heart out there. "Dear wife of mine, please?"


text:
Hello in November to everyone reading this issue.
We are well into the fall admissions season for traditional students here in the U.S. and it is fitting that the New York Time Education Life supplement for November includes 4 articles that focus on different parts of the admission process. If you don't get the Sunday NY Times, you can find everything online at nyti.ms/1Ws5DXl
The supplement includes an article reviewing the issues around a proposed new admissions process that caused no small amount of controversy at NACAC 2015 in September. You can skip everything else in the supplement and go right to A New Coalition of Elite Colleges Tries to Reshape Admissions at nyti.ms/1k5UR8h
I am still in awe at the title appropriated by the group of 80+ schools: "Coalition for Access, Affordability, and Success" leaves no high ground unclaimed. Fortunately, the title has not awed the critics into silence.
On a more practical level: Do people on your campus think social media marketing is more important than your website for successful student recruitment? If so, send them to 4 Top Marketing Lessons for Student Recruitment at bit.ly/1PAwtER
Conference Event in November
The AMA Symposium for the Marketing of Higher Education in November is just two weeks away. You can still register and add my Sunday afternoon Digital Marketing Strategy tutorial at bit.ly/1mIBYqb
Invite a friend or colleague to subscribe to this newsletter. Just 30 seconds at bit.ly/aRePLm
If you are not already a Twitter follower, join me at twitter.com/HighEdMarketing for daily marketing updates.
And now here are your November marketing news and notes.
Cartoon of the Month: Your Marketing Toolkit
What is the most important element in a successful marketing campaign? Laugh at the possibilities in the Cartoon of the Month at bit.ly/1XKc2dP
"The New Math of College Rankings": Especially for Wall Street Journal Readers
For families who have the most money to spend on a college education, the WSJ is providing advice on how to best select a college with "return on investment and graduation prospects" in mind. In other words, focus on how a college or university will provide ROI on the cost paid.
The November 2 article highlights 8 websites that parents can visit to find ROI content. Wise marketers will read this article, review what is available on their website, and wonder how they can help potential students and their parents complete the task the WSJ article is encouraging them to research elsewhere.
Suggestion: See how your school fares on the 8 websites listed by WSJ at on.wsj.com/1Q6WWge
World University Rankings: U.S and U.K. Dominate Top 25
The Times Higher Education rankings for 2015-2016 perhaps are not surprising, although no Ivy League university made the first five. Two countries other than the U.K. and U.S. have universities listed in the Top 25 at #9 and #19.
Check the ranking criteria and search the 800 listed universities by individual countries at bit.ly/1l4oNSp
Niche Rankings: Top 100 Test-Optional Colleges in the U.S.
Here is a new list of public and private sector schools that do not require either ACT or SAT scores to make an admissions decision. Bowdoin College heads a list that ends with Walsh University.
A "show details" link grades each school in 10 areas that start with academics and end with campus safety, including "value," "professors," and "campus quality."
See the rankings from Niche, a lead-gen site, at bit.ly/1GIpsTo
Reducing Tuition at Utica and Rosemont Colleges: What Do We Call It?
Is reducing your tuition level by 40 percent or so a "tuition reset" as the colleges prefer to call it or a "cut" or "slash" as has been reported in newspaper and TV reports?
The difference shows just how nervous a school can be when flying in the face of prevailing sentiment that a high sticker price conveys a high-quality image. Both Utica and Rosemont are attempting a realistic approach in the face of tuition discounting that NACUBO reports as now averaging about 48 percent.
Time will tell if the lower sticker price approach works. Meantime, neither school likely is happy with the "bargain basement education" label used by CNBC in a report at cnb.cx/1GIsdE9
Brand Evolution in Higher Education: A Brief History
Take just
a few minutes to read this fine review of higher education from the 1600s to the present, prepared by Sean Carton to keep everyone rooted in reality as we continue to debate who should go to college and the value of a college degree.
You can find "The Brand of Higher Education: Context for the Conflict" at bit.ly/1Mdi6rb
Mobile Marketing: Google and Why "Every Second Counts"
Do you have skeptics on your marketing team who do not yet believe that "every second counts" in online marketing, especially on mobile? Ask them to read the AdAge article outlining new plans from Google to boost speed expectations from mobile users.
Check your web pages at Google PageSpeed Insights after you read "Google is Making the Mobile Web Faster" at bit.ly/1Phtm6Y
Social Media Marketing: Check Your Landing Pages
If you marketing plans call for students to journey from a social media site to become an inquiry, the quality of your landing page likely will decide your success. Nothing will kill marketing ROI faster than a bad landing page.
Create a separate landing page for every ad or post that you expect people to follow to become an inquiry or register for an event. Never drop people into a regular website page. That might sound obvious, but I have seen graduate programs in Integrated Marketing Communications drop people right into a home page with no obvious place to take the desired action.
Read the Social Media Examiner recommendations and/or listen to the podcast for "How to Optimize Landing Pages to Boost Social Media Conversions" at bit.ly/1P6v3Wa
International Student Recruitment: Impact of Cost on U.S. Success
Cost is the factor most likely to keep students accepted to U.S. universities from enrolling here, according to a recent Eduventures report. For 2015, about 47 percent of students accepted to a U.S university declined the invitation.
Nearly two-thirds gave "I can't afford it" as their reason not to enroll. About one-third said they might enroll at a later time. And a surprising 23 percent said they did not know enough about the school that accepted them.
The countries most often selected as U.S. alternatives: Canada, the U.K., Australia, and Germany.
More details from the research are at bit.ly/1NhkzTq
Twitter vs. Instagram: Which Will Best Boost Your Marketing Results?
The answer to that question is complex. Instagram, says author Dominque Jackson, is better for engagement within the network. Twitter is better at creating engagement outside the network.
See the reasons and review detailed demographics of the people using each site at bit.ly/1Mf20Jk
Pell Grant Enrollment: Variations in Enrollment and Graduation Levels
How serious are universities about enrolling low-income students? A new report from the Institute for Higher Education Policy suggests that some schools are more serious than others.
In addition to four universities in California cited for strong performance with Pell Grant students, universities in four other states made a "Strong Student Outcomes" list: Indiana Wesleyan, Grand Valley State in Michigan, Stetson University in Florida, and University of Tennessee – Knoxville.
For a detailed review of how 18 universities are meeting the challenge of enrolling and graduating Pell Grant students at varying net price points see the report at bit.ly/1PhIEIJ
Most Popular Topic in October Newsletter: Growing a New a Brand Reputation
It takes generations to grow a brand reputation and not nearly as long to lose one. The Cartoon of the Month gives pause for thought to anyone thinking about a rebranding campaign at bit.ly/1QVq2Nq
Be a marketing champion on your campus.
Bob Johnson, Ph.D.
Bob Johnson Consulting, LLC
Bob Johnson Consulting, LLC
Increase your marketing success with these services. Contact me for details at firstname.lastname@example.com
Top Task Website Design Research with Gerry McGovern
Expert Marketing Communications Website Reviews
Writing Right for the Web: Webinars, Conferences, and Campus Workshops
Competitive Website Reviews and Secret Shopping Projects
Communication Audits
Your Higher Education Marketing Newsletter… November 2015
Hello in November to everyone reading this issue.


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The term xenophobia received mainstream media attention following the election of Pauline Hanson to the Australian Federal Parliament. Comments in her maiden speech including that Australia was/is 'in danger of being swamped by Asians' led to her being asked on a tabloid current affairs program if she was xenophobic. Whilst the 'please explain' response resonated with many disaffected with tabloid journalism, out-of-touch elected representatives and the liberal elite, the notion of xenophobia as widespread, even hegemonic is something that has hit me pretty hard in the last week. The context of this is my attendance a school in Canada (for close to a week now) and the significantly more diversity in people/cultures here than in Australia.
I consider myself (and hope others do, and think my posts here indicate/support this) to be progressive and one working on addressing/challenging racism, amongst other things. It came as a big shock, and somewhat disturbing, that I have come to the realisation I unconsciously harbor a form of hegemonic xenophobia. This is (hopefully was) not overarching in the sense that I do not find myself scared of difference, yet that I was second looking and also being the presence of a feeling that I was out-numbered (that is the only term I can come up with at the moment).
In Australia, the notion of being 'swamped by Asians' – which has now been superseded by a fear/ostracism of Muslims – receives widespread mainstream media coverage and reification. Is this so pervasive that it has become hegemonic to the extent it permeates into the mindset of those challenging such racist stereotypes and misnomers. The frequent shock-jock beat-up on talk-back radio may promote this heavily, yet those with a critical outlook and reflection surely must not be so easily persuaded? How has this become hegemonic to such an unconscious level?
My awareness came when walking around campus and not being part of the visible majority. There were many people who looked different (and this had little to do with being in a different country) to me, and I was not in the majority. It seems that Australian xenophobic hegemony was showing itself. I also noted my reaction when seeing many posters promoting seminars about Islam (was it trepidation? – I am not sure). I am certain these reactions are rooted similarly.
Having become aware of this I can critically reflect and use this awareness to work towards self-change. However, it says a lot about (mainstream) Australian society – and more than the existence of xenophobia. Why can a country like Canada exist without the racial stereotyping and scape-goating (I am not saying it is non-existent) that we see day-to-day in Australia – especially given the level of diversity present? Why does Australian society (generally) view Islam in such a negative way? How has it become so pervasive that it affects those of us with a critical outlook?
These are questions that need to be considered and addressed. Is there a viscous cycle in that such stereotyping and scape-goating leads to those targeted banding together, and thus perpetuating the fear (and even hatred)? This is something that Australians specifically (and people more broadly) need to consider and discuss with our Asean, Muslim, people of colour and other minority/marginalised sisters and brothers. For everyone's benefit.
I, for one, am shocked and disturbed by the impacts this has had on myself and glad that my circumstance has forced personal reflection before I made any actions that were visibly racially based. I hope this helps me in working towards changing this, and perhaps provides insight for reflection into other problematic areas of my existence and outlook I am not even aware of.
Cheers to personal growth…


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Fraction is a Multipurpose News Magazine WordPress Theme .
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Demo & Soruce
Download Fraction – Multipurpose News Magazine Theme[sociallocker]Download Fraction – Multipurpose News Magazine Theme[/sociallocker]


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I'm a performer. I routinely do insane things on stage, that most people would be terrified of doing. And secretly, I'm terrified, too, but I go on stage and dance or speak or improvise and I LOVE IT. And I always know beforehand that I'm going to love it.
Taking tests, though – I hate them. I don't know why, I've always been a decent student. I freaked out before taking the PSAT and the SAT and the ACT, and I did really well on all of them. I panicked before taking the WEST B and the WEST E for Elementary Education, which are two tests required to teach elementary school in Washington. I passed them both.
Tomorrow I'm taking the WEST E for middle school Humanities and Math, and I am more nervous than I have been for anything, in a very long time.
I know the material – I can do middle school math. And I'm not worried about social studies and language arts.
I already talked to the program adviser and he told me that I was NOT going to be kicked out of the program if I don't pass this time – I just have to re-test in September. So it's not like it's the end of the world if I do poorly.
However, that doesn't make me feel any better.
Math, math, math.
I used to love it. And this is exactly why I WANT to teach middle school math – in middle school, I didn't understand geometry and my teacher didn't explain it and for the first time in my life I wasn't a high achiever. I tried and I tried, but I couldn't figure out the math.
I can do geometry. I do geometry on a regular basis. I build things and sew things and garden and do all these things that require geometry. But I got a bad grade (I didn't even fail, I think I got a C) in one class and it changed my whole outlook on math.
I want to be a better math teacher than that.
But first I have to (wo)man up and pass this test.
On the plus side – I will never dismiss my students who have test anxiety. It's real, and it's crippling.


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AGDATATechnology Company Branding
AGDATA works closely with the world's biggest agrochemical and animal health manufacturers to help them understand who is buying their products and execute rebate programs that drive sales and influence customer behavior. To pursue new revenue streams, AGDATA needed a dynamic new brand platform.
Given the complexity of what the Company does, it is hard to quickly communicate key brand attributes and benefits.
Historically, AGDATA has had a reactive inward facing technical mindset – not a proactive external-facing user mindset.
Young competitors with sophisticated technological capabilities pose an increasing threat to AGDATA's market share.
AGDATA is known as a data collection company – not a data enablement partner.
The consolidation of growers, retailers, manufacturers has made the industry much more competitive.
Smaller agrichemical companies need help understanding the benefits of a data-driven marketing approach.
Build an intuitive, extensible brand platform capable of unifying all existing brands while providing a framework to launch and support new products and services.
The new brand position has created greater alignment and focus among internal teams, including sales, marketing, and product development. Externally, the new brand continues to foster greater awareness among emerging accounts and support AGDATA's efforts to sell a more relevant, clearly defined offering to an expanding customer base.
- Research
- Brand Strategy & Positioning
- Logo and Visual Brand Development
- Persona Development
- Marketing Tactics
- Website Design & Development
- Sales Presentation
- Photography
- Tone of Voice


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Cabrini Medical Imaging offers a professional and friendly service with access to the latest medical imaging technology and a broad range of scans and tests reported by specialist Radiologists.
|General Inquiries
Phone: (03) 9508 1444
|Additional Information
After hours services available via our Emergency Department at Malvern Hospital
|Operating Hours
Monday - Friday, 8.00 am – 6.00 pm
Required.For Patients | For GPs | Referral Form
Consent to Release Patient Health Information
Transfer of Patient Health Information
Malvern Bookings
Brighton Bookings
Ph: (03) 9508 1444
Ph: (03) 9508 5660
Or complete our online booking request form
|Book now
The Medical Imaging Department at Cabrini Malvern and Brighton offers patients access to world-leading medical imaging equipment. Our radiologists have expertise in a wide range of sub-specialities supported by our dedicated and highly qualified radiographers, technical and nursing staff.
We provide a professional and friendly service in a comfortable setting including full recovery suite for x-ray day cases, onsite parking and concierge services at both of our locations. After hour services are available at Malvern through our 24 hours, 7 days a week Emergency Department.
We also offer immediate digital access to your images and reports through our PACS (Picture Archiving and Communication System) program. Digital images and reports are stored online and are kept permanently so they can be accessed at any time.
Our state-of-the-art technology includes:
Angiography is a diagnostic test performed to evaluate your blood vessels, usually arteries, and most commonly is used to look at the blood vessels of the brain, chest, abdomen and legs. Angiography is performed by a specialist radiologist and nursing team. Contrast is injected into the blood vessels to be viewed on the x-ray image in real-time. Blockages and narrowing of the blood vessels are easily seen and may sometimes be treated in the same visit. It may also be used to demonstrate leakage or bleeding from a blood vessel, such as in the bowel.
A Bone Mineral Density (BMD) test is the only test that can diagnose osteoporosis before a broken bone occurs. This test helps to estimate the density of your bones and your chance of breaking a bone. It is recommended to have a bone density test of the hip and spine by a DEXA machine to diagnose osteoporosis. DEXA stands for "dual energy x-ray absorptiometry". A bone density test can help you and your healthcare provider:
Download > Bone Mineral Density DEXA Request
Computed Tomography (CT) is performed using x-rays and a sophisticated computer that obtains information from many angles to create cross-sectional slices. These slices can be put together to generate detailed images in any plane. CT is an excellent diagnostic tool which is used to detect multiple medical conditions and can also look quickly and accurately at the lungs, internal organs and the bowel. The scanners at Cabrini are among the lowest dose scanners available, with typically 40% less radiation dose than older models.
Download > CT Contrast Form
General x-rays are the most common diagnostic imaging test usually performed for assessing injured limbs or examining the chest for possible infection. A picture is taken of the inside of the body by a machine, which emits a small amount of radiation energy. The x-rays cast shadows of soft tissue and bone, these shadows are captured and displayed on a computer screen. General x-ray is a quick, painless procedure and the images can be made available to your referring doctor immediately.
Intervention radiology (IR) is an exciting area of modern medicine delivering precise, targeted treatment for complex diseases and conditions throughout the body. Using minimally invasive image-guided techniques, interventional radiologists provide high quality care with less morbidity and often at a lower cost than many surgical alternatives.
IR is practised across a spectrum, from basic procedures performed by clinical radiologists through to complex vascular, oncological and neurological interventions performed by versatile specialist radiologists with advanced skills in IR and interventional neuroradiology (INR).
Mammography is specialised medical imaging that uses a low-dose x-ray system to see inside the breasts. At Cabrini, we use the latest advances in mammography, including Digital and Breast Tomosynthesis to aid the early detection and diagnosis of breast diseases in women.
Digital Mammography is a mammography system in which the x-ray film is replaced by electronics that convert x-rays into mammographic pictures of the breast. These systems are similar to those found in digital cameras and their efficiency enables better pictures with a lower radiation dose. These images of the breast are transferred to a computer for review by the radiologist and for long term storage. The patients' experience during a digital mammogram is similar to having a conventional film mammogram.
Breast Tomosynthesis, also called three-dimensional (3-D) mammography and Digital Breast Tomosynthesis (DBT) is an advanced form of breast imaging where multiple images of the breast from different angles are captured and reconstructed into a three-dimensional image set. It can result in:
Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) is an examination that can produce very detailed images of your body without the use of radiation. MRI uses magnetic fields and radio waves to visualise your internal organs and soft tissues such as the brain, spinal cord, blood vessels, muscles, cartilage and skin. MRI uses a very powerful magnet; therefore it may be necessary check any surgical implants to determine if it is safe for you to have a scan. This includes pacemakers, aneurysm clips, stapes (ear) implants or other metallic foreign bodies. You are welcome to bring your iPod, mp3 player or iPhone as we are able to play music for the majority of our examinations.
The Nuclear Medicine department provides a comprehensive range of diagnostic and therapeutic Nuclear Medicine procedures. The department utilises two SPECT-CT Gamma Cameras and a dedicated Myocardial Gamma Camera, ensuring your patient has access to the highest quality state-of-the-art technology that optimises clinical diagnosis, patient outcomes and the lowest possible dose of radiation use.Download > Nuclear Medicine FAQs
All of our reporting consultants are dual-accredited, providing a wide range of clinical expertise. To enhance your patients' diagnostic outcome, we can offer bookings on the days that the relevant subspecialist consultants are on-site.
|Dual Accredited
|Rostered Days
|Dr HB Toh
|Radiologist | Nuclear Medicine Physician
|A/Professor Nathan Better
|Cardiologist | Nuclear Medicine Physician
|Dr Dinesh Sivaratnam
|Cardiologist| Nuclear Medicine Physician
|Wednesday & Thursday
|Dr Jenny Woo
|Endocrinologist | Nuclear Medicine Physician
Same day results are available for the majority of studies. Reports and images can be accessed online via InteleViewer (PACS).
PET/CT imaging is used extensively in oncology to direct biopsy, stage disease extent and monitor response to therapy. It is increasingly being used in the diagnosis of dementia, infection imaging and in cardiology.
Based on the principal that it is able to provide a metabolic map of an anatomical site which enables it to differentiate pathologies. The Cabrini PET/CT unit enables pinpoint accuracy using the lowest dose of tracer possible.
Download > PET Imaging Request Form
|Rostered Days
|Dr Dinesh Sivaratnam
|Dr Aurora Poon
|Dr HB Toh
|Dr David Nadebaum
|Dr Yung Kao
|Dr Chian Chang
Fluoroscopy is a diagnostic test that uses real-time x-ray images and is most commonly used to assess the function of a particular body part. Fluoroscopy is routinely used to look at swallowing (Barium Meal), the bowel and bladder and is also an excellent tool for the radiologist when performing procedures such as lumbar punctures.
Ultrasound uses a sound wave with a frequency much higher than human hearing. Diagnostic Ultrasound, or Sonography, is similar in principle to sonar in a submarine whereby images are formed by detecting reflected sound waves or echoes. Most people are familiar with ultrasound examinations as they are routinely used during pregnancy. Gel is placed on the relevant body part and a small hand held ultrasound probe or transducer is applied. The transducer emits a high frequency sound wave, which then passes into the body. Some sound is reflected back to the transducer and this reflection is reconstructed as an image on a monitor. Ultrasound is used to image many soft tissue structures in the body including blood vessels, muscles and internal organs.
Medicare rebates are available for most Specialist Referred Scans and certain GP Referred Scans. However, for some medical imaging services an out-of-pocket expense will apply. Please call us on (03) 9508 1444 for specific out-of-of pocket costs.
Private patients with an agreed health fund will have no out-of-pocket expenses for most Medical Imaging services whilst in hospital. All medical imaging related expenses will be billed directly to the health fund.
HCF + BUPA Funds
AHSA Agreed Funds
|Private patients with Non-Agreed Health Funds
|You will receive an account to enable a claim from Medicare and your health funds. Your out-of-pocket cost will be capped at $500 per admission for Medical Imaging for rebatable Medicare items.
|Private patients with Pension or Concession Cards
|Your out-of-pocket cost will be capped at $250 per admission for Medical Imaging for rebatable items.
|Cabrini Chemocard holders
|There will be no out-of-pocket cost for current for Medicare rebatable items.
|Third Party Claims such as WorkCover and TAC
|Patients will be billed to the relevant authority, however, should the claim be rejected it is the patient's responsibility to settle all outstanding accounts. An account will be sent to the patient for payment.
|Department of Veterans Affairs (DVA)
|Gold cardholders will be covered for most services. White cardholders authorisation is required to ensure that the service is related to specific entitlements.
|Non-insured Patients
|Will be responsible for all out-of-pocket costs between the Medicare rebate and the private patient fee.
Cabrini Medical Imaging offers high quality, efficient imaging and delivery of electronic reports and images. We are committed to providing timely and secure access to reports and images for referrers; with digital imaging available immediately through our PACS (Picture Archiving and Communication System) program. Digital images and reports are stored online and are kept permanently so they can be accessed at any time. When set up, reports can be securely downloaded to your clinic software once they are finalised. Alternatively, if requested, reports can also be automatically faxed to your practice when they are finalised. If you require further assistance please contact us as follows:
|Contact details
|Opening hours
|Access to reports & enquiries
|Medical Imaging
|(03) 9508 1444
|Monday – Friday
8.00am – 7.00pm
|PACS support & using InteleViewer
|PACS Support
|(03) 9508 1338
|Monday – Friday
8.30am – 5.00pm
|Urgent, out of hours support
|Radiology Onsite
|(03) 9508 1920
|After hours
Click here to view the FAQs related to our reports and electronic downloads.
Click here to login to our PACS (Picture Archiving and Communication System) program.
A referral will be required for all tests from your GP or specialist. We ask that you bring this with you to your appointment.
For detailed information on your test, what to expect, the duration of the test and what preparation is needed, please view our comprehensive patient information sheets - specific to the type of test or scan you are having.
All of our medical imaging services require a referral. Our medical imaging referral forms are available in the Download section on top of this page.
Medical Imaging services are available at our Malvern and Brighton hospitals, however, Nuclear Medicine, OPG, Bone Densitometry and Angiography are only available at our Malvern location.
Radiologists are on site five days a week and are available should you need to discuss interpretation of imaging results or imaging requirements.
Cabrini Medical Imaging offers high quality and efficient imaging and delivery of reports with digital imaging available immediately through our PACS (Picture Archiving and Communication System) program. Digital images and reports are stored online and are kept permanently so they can be accessed at any time.
If you require assistance with using InteleViewer, accessing PACS, or have a query regarding image access or downloads please contact
Cabrini PACS support on 03 9508 1338
8.30 am-5.00 pm Monday- Friday
For urgent matters out of hours, please contact the medical imaging staff on site on 03 9508 1222 and they will be able to direct your query further.


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"Play the Game": Feature written in March 2017 for 'Postgraduate Futures' magazine published by Refraction Media; Looks at the kinds of tests (like personality and psychometric tests), challenges and games that some employers pose to interviewees during the hiring process.
Fran Molloy
FRAN MOLLOY is an experienced Australian freelance journalist, editor and educator whose work is regularly published in the Sydney Morning Herald, The Age, BBC, ABC Online, G Magazine, BRW, Medical Observer, Education Review, Campus Review, Pharmacy News, and many other Australian and international outlets including the South China Morning Post, UK Overseas, Whole Life Times in the US and South Africa's Business Day. She runs the Freeline journalism network, is a regular judge of the Walkley Awards and lectures in Environmental Journalism at the Sydney campus of New York University.
Here is some text. In 2012, Fran wrote a series of articles for the SMH technology news section, ITPro, including some focused on developments in eHealth: May 28: about the slow start predicted for eHealth records July 9: about low sign-up and issues with launch of PCEHR Aug 12: about patient experience with new scheme
Feature article: Smartphone apps raid doctor's data
This feature article by Fran Molloy published on 31 October 2011 for the Australian medical newspaper Medical Observer, investigates claims that some smartphone apps that are promoted to doctors and health professionals can allow pharmaceutical companies to harvest doctors' usage data for market research and to promote sponsored 'health information.' This article (full version requires a subscription) includes interviews with key Australian sources about the risks to data integrity built into the use of some medical apps. Fran has written …
Copywriting: General Practice Registrar's Association
Between 2009 and 2011, Fran was engaged by the General Practice Registrar's Association (GPRA) to interview and write profiles about over fifty working GPs for six issues of the GPRA's highly successful glossy magazine, 'Going Places.' Released three times a year to around 6,000 junior doctors and medical students, the magazine was a successful part of the GPRA strategy and marketed as an engaging and entertaining read which was informative and show-cased the careers of a huge variety of doctors …
Freelance journalist article: The end of Search Engine Optimisation?
Do smarter search engines spell the end of SEO? In this article in NETT magazine, I've spoken to some key experts about what happens when keyword-stuffing and other techniques designed to boost page rankings don't work. Ultimately, perhaps you'll need is darn good content – and the search engines will find you.
Freelance travel writer article: Teen holidays in Australia
This article about holidays for teenagers was published in the SunHerald on September 6, 2009.
Freelance feature article: Brand Me: how to create a new brand
Finding a business name and appropriate logo that will turn heads in the marketplace is actually really difficult. What do you need to do to invent a brand (name, logo design, web presence) – and what online tools are available to help? What comes first: the brand or the domain name?
I was commissioned to write a series of SEO-optimised articles about conception, pregnancy, birth, and parenting for their Huggies parenting website.
Freelance feature article: Small business and insurance
Feature article about how small business can save money on insurance – and what factors are important when selecting cover.
Copywriting through a Commercial Writing Agency
Between March and May 2009, I delivered an extensively-researched white paper for a large Australian information technology firm on behalf of Corpwrite and my work was profiled in the Corpwrite newsletter


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The What's in the Bible? VBS is a one-of-kind family ministry experience that will bring the families in your church closer together as they journey through the Bible – from Genesis to Revelation.
- Fun, Family-Friendly & Easy-to-Use at Any Sized Church
- Teaches Kids & Parents the Bible's Big Story…God's Rescue Plan
- Video Clips on DVD & Digital File DVD-Rom for Easy Use
- Make Copies or Email Print Materials from CD-Rom
- Go Home Cards, Family Journal, & Website for Home Use
The What's in the Bible? VBS Kit comes with everything you need for two versions of VBS – a rotational, kids-only VBS and an evening-format family VBS that includes a parenting track. The VBS is a 4-day (with optional 5th) experience designed for elementary-aged children.
Looking for more information about how to host the What's in the Bible? VBS at your church?
- Sample Day Schedule
- VBS Roles & Volunteer Needs
- Supply Lists (With Links to Purchase)
- Decorating Ideas
- Sample Videos
Have questions about the What's in the Bible? VBS? Check out our FAQs page for answers about VBS, its content, ordering VBS, and extras.
The What's in the Bible? VBS Kit contains all the resources you need to host an amazing Vacation Bible School – and samples of great orderable resources that you can add to enhance the experience for your kids and families. When you order the kit, you will receive the following:
- Director's Guide Book
- DVD with all videos
- DVD-Rom with all videos and music in .mov and .mp3 format for use in presentation software)
- CD-Rom with all print materials and activities
- 5 promotional posters
- 5 registration posters
- 1 sample t-shirt
- 1 sample family journal
- 1 sample family prayer wristband
- 1 sample What's in the Bible music CD
- 1 sample pair of What's in the Bible sunglasses
- 1 sample name tag lanyard with exclusive website link for families to visit


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James Cox Jr - Knits for Boys
Now both Dad and Junior can enjoy wearing a James Cox design. You can knit matching father and son sweaters, belts or caps. And if you're looking for something special for a grandson, nephew or that adorable little guy next door, you've just found a nice selection of patterns in beautiful yarns.