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VIA SCRIBNER
The Homeric Epic of LeBron James
Humble beginnings; killer biceps; purpose-driven departure; grand quest...
By David Giffels
The following is from David Giffels's The Hard Way on Purpose: Essays and Dispatches from the Rust Belt:
On the very afternoon I write these words, the second planet is about to pass directly in front of the sun, an event called the Transit of Venus, which, in silhouette, looks (though it cannot be viewed without appropriate eye protection) like a pea passing in front of a Hollywood searchlight, a minor epic of the cosmos that occurs just once every 105 years, which seems like a very long time until you remind yourself that this is Venus and the sun we're talking about. And also tonight, June 5, 2012, LeBron James will play an ostensibly meaningful basketball play-off game with the word HEAT lettered across his torso. And he will lose.
Whenever I try to unravel the Homeric epic of LeBron James (humble beginnings; burden of expectation; killer biceps; purpose-driven departure; grand quest; home, home, home, home, home; daddy issues; failure of pride; etc.), I find myself invariably, involuntarily, incessantly tracing a line backward through personal chronology and geography (his and mine), and then conversely forward, toward the potential infinity of those same territories. And I'm still, every time, left wondering whether this is as important as I think it is, and then utterly convinced that it is.
LeBron James was born into an identity crisis. He came into the world on December 30, 1984, and not just the world, but a world, a very particular world, one that would make him irrevocably who he is, and one from which he will never be able to extract himself. He was born into Akron, Ohio, at exactly the moment the city was losing all sense of what it was about, all confidence, all antecedent. He was like Swee' Pea in the Popeye cartoons, crawling out of the womb, oblivious and innocent, onto an I-beam dangling from a wire, everything falling apart methodically and chaotically behind him.
Two years before his birth, the last-ever passenger tire was built in Akron by a man named Richard Mayo, who paused afterward to look into a newspaper camera, a sturdy man in a V-neck T-shirt, thirty years on the job, his gloved fist perched on his hip, the other against his forehead, hands unsure what to do with themselves. The furrowed brow, the narrowed eyes, the strain at the corners—this was a look shared by men across a vast and hard-to-harness region, one defined ultimately and elliptically by water, by the Great Lakes and the Wabash and Ohio and Mississippi Rivers, routes of entry and departure to and from cities where the certainty of old factories was sagging and imploding.
Until then, for as long as anyone in my city could remember, Akron had been known as "the rubber capital of the world." Like most manufacturing cities in the industrial Midwest, this was plenty enough identity, and the reputation carried far enough and wide enough for the people here not ever to feel obscure or irrelevant, and this reputation rested on a civic infrastructure that provided solidity and security. Akron was the birthplace and the center of the world's tire industry, the most singular and therefore the most overtly significant supplier to Detroit's auto industry. Which, yes, represents a stature something akin to being the Ralph Malph of the American industrial belt, and also a civic identity that requires being inordinately passionate about radial tires. (In defense: the profoundly intertwined, ultimately tragic histories—personal and corporate—of the Ford and Firestone families would have sent Shakespeare positively apeshit.) Anyhow, what more did we need to know? All the major American tire company world headquarters were here. Much of the production. Virtually all the high-tech research and development. The headquarters of the international rubber workers' union.
Tire-building was the city's defining profession. Tens, maybe hundreds, of thousands had made a good living at it, generation after generation. And then, one afternoon in August 1982, suddenly and completely that was gone.
A few months before, a photography exhibit called Factory Valleys opened at the Akron Art Museum. It made the city uneasy. Three years prior, the museum had commissioned Lee Friedlander, one of the most significant photographers in America, to come to Akron and make pictures. Any subject of his choosing. We must be important, the city thought. And lovely to see. Friedlander set off and started shooting. Cracked, empty streetscapes. Forlorn factories. Bent fences. Skewed signs. Punch-clock workers in ragged routine. He went up to Cleveland and down to Canton and over to Pittsburgh and came back again and again, through the monochrome winter of 1979 and into 1980. A pattern revealed itself into a story, and it was a story of ourselves and one we didn't yet quite know, and that is the worst kind of story: the one about yourself that you ought to know but somebody else has to tell you. Friedlander finished his work, and when executives of the bank that had sponsored his commission saw the grimy, hardbitten black-and-white pictures, they said this was not what they'd expected. This is not what we look like. This is not how we ought to be seen. They paid him his money but never showed the pictures in their branches. While the museum exhibited its collection, the commissioned pieces went into storage, locked in the dark. The bankers never gave a reason, but who can ever put reason to identity?
Then that same summer, a new term popped up in the American lexicon: Rust Bowl. It derived from Dust Bowl, another time, another place, someone else's eyes, the grim matrons of Steinbeck and Dorothea Lange. Soon it was bent into Rust Belt, and then it stuck like a barb. The first known use of the term was in a politician's speech in 1982. Akron, because it was so closely tied to a single industry, one that was disappearing like an exhale in the quick of a Lake Erie winter, was feeling a sudden and profound loss of identity. The term Rust Belt was sucked hard into that void and there it would stay.
If you look at a socioeconomic map of the broad Rust Belt region, you find, unmistakably, Akron at the dead center, geographically and philosophically set squarely between the automotive and steel regions. The city was among the first to hit bottom.
As all this was taking hold, right in the middle of that city LeBron James pushed his first basketball up into the air.
I graduated high school that summer of 1982, the same high school James would attend, St. Vincent–St. Mary, home of the Fighting Irish. We had many of the same teachers, sang the same "high atop a hill in Akron" alma mater, idled in the same "learning resource center," departed through the same glass doors every afternoon into a city we both love, but one best described as "unbeautiful." In fact, James and I share a unique quirk in NBA history: both of us went directly from St. Vincent–St. Mary to the Cleveland Cavaliers. I was an entry-level ball boy. He was the first pick in the NBA draft. But still. We knew what that meant. We both grew up well aware that Cleveland bears the unfortunate distinction of having suffered longer than any other American sports city without a championship in any major league.
The last time it happened was the year I was born, 1964, when the Cleveland Browns won the NFL championship game, which is what it was called then—the NFL Championship Game—which is to say the term Super Bowl didn't even exist yet. A lifetime like this. That's what LeBron James and I and our people share. A lifetime, one might say, of loss, but we here recognize something much different, more nuanced, more full of shadows. A lifetime of hope.
And anyone who's done both—hoped and lost—knows that in many ways hoping is worse.
My professional basketball career was short and relatively uneventful. I served during the worst seasons in the history of the team, some of the worst times ever endured by any sports franchise, an epically bad spell of losing and bizarre management and shabby catering and forgotten players in a time when the NBA was not yet prime entertainment. Eventually, I was fired by Ted Stepien, who is generally considered the most profoundly inept team owner in the history of American professional sports. The highlight of my tenure was the day the Cavaliers' arena, the old Richfield Coliseum, played host to the NBA All-Star Game and I escorted Bob Hope from his courtside seat to the home locker room so he wouldn't have to use the public restroom, then stood guard while he did his Bob Hope business at the urinal. My grandmother was stone-cold starstruck when I told her of this.
My tenure was marked by long, mind-numbing nights of home- team loss after home-team loss—twenty-four games straight, which stood as the longest losing streak in NBA history until 2011, when it was surpassed by . . . wait for it . . . the Cleveland Cavaliers. Inside that hollow concrete arena, I came to recognize the peculiar nature of loyalty, the way a small core of people kept re-upping their season ticket packages for a team that you couldn't give away tickets for. (And I mean this literally. Part of my ball-boy compensation was two complimentary passes to every game, and most nights those sat in the box office, unclaimed.) I came to recognize true loyalty in the likes of Joe Tait, the meat-and-potatoes Cavaliers radio announcer, who, despite Stepien's attempt to unseat him, returned after Stepien flamed out, and then Tait remained in the announcer's chair until retiring in 2011.
And in Rick Hofacker, the de facto manager of the ball boys who got me my job and went on to become a foot doctor specifically so he could in some way continue to serve the team he loved, which he has done now for many years, basketball feet being rather like NASCAR tires. And in Andy Bell, the team's equipment manager, whom I would spot off at the fringes of TV shots for years after my employment ended, still doing his job, much of which involved rich men's laundry. I saw a sometimes inexplicable but undeniably charming core of support for something that wasn't easy to support or even understand, and I came to regard it not as charity or mere fandom but something more complex: a symbiotic relationship of need.
The Cleveland Cavaliers of my adolescence needed to be loved. And the people of my place and time needed something to love. The seeds of this understanding were sown as I sat on my bony, polyester-warm-up-clad teenage ass on the hard wooden floor watching the nonsense of sport yearning for relevance, World B. Free gunning rainbows from the corner.
Give us something to root for. We'll take anything.
As I grew into early adulthood and observed a larger pattern of hope and loss and hope and loss and hope and loss, and the con- current resilience thereof, I came to a begrudging conclusion: neither of these things—hope and loss—can exist without the other, and yet at every turn it is necessary to believe that at some point one will ultimately conquer. And that will be our legacy.
Half a generation after I graduated from that drab, ungarnished school building near the decaying central industrial core, James entered as a freshman and began one of the most star-crossed careers in the history of American sports. As a youth-league player, he had found the group of people he knew he belonged with, a tight collective of schoolyard friends who called themselves the Fab Five and who made a vow to keep their team together into high school. By his junior year, James was on the cover of Sports Illustrated, under the audacious title "The Chosen One." After that, everything got weird, in a specifically parochial way. James, a local teenager, was also an international superstar, the most promising athlete in the world. He represented a bizarre divide between the hyperreal details of my own place—living two miles from my house, walking the same hallways I had, eating carhop hamburgers at Swensons Drive In, befriending my best friend's son—and the notion of external identity that had vexed and eluded my home- town since I'd first begun to explore it. We in Akron began measuring James's personal reputation against our civic reputation, and hungering for the ways those two notions were aligned.
Who was he? Who were we? Were we him? Was he us? Could this be what we've been longing for lo these many years?
In 2002, James, then a junior, was named Parade magazine's high school basketball Player of the Year. I was working as a columnist at the local newspaper, the Akron Beacon Journal. Because the paper carried Parade on Sundays, the magazine arranged for us to host a small awards ceremony in a meeting room just down the hall from the newsroom. A number of us made our way to the gathering that afternoon, drawn by the curiosity of this growing phenomenon whose story had become part of our daily working lives.
I sat in the back, watching. James had requested that his teammates join him, and so this group of young men in sweatpants and letter jackets all growing into themselves—one the size of a fifth grader; another who would soon sign as an Ohio State defensive lineman—sat at his flank with the awkward politeness endemic to Catholic schoolboys.
James was young, still slender, uncomfortable speaking in front of the small gathering, but he did his best and thanked his teammates and coaches, and everything he said seemed careful and true, in the give-110-percent-it's-all-about-the-team sort of way. He has always seemed earnest in such settings (a certain hour-long ESPN special notwithstanding). He has improved at public speaking, certainly, but even then there was an inscrutable purity about him— can one be confidently humble?—which has always been central to his demeanor. That afternoon, he seemed like a young man being fitted for a tuxedo, trying on a shell that didn't seem natural yet, but one—like this national award—that he was willing to grow into.
LeBron James had become a wrinkle in our journalistic routine. Almost daily, one of us had to answer the phone call, or the e-mail, or the chance query in the grocery store—why do you give so much attention to a high school athlete when there are real problems in the world?
The growing reality, however, was that maybe he was the solution to one of those problems, the answer to the very real, legitimately grave question of postindustrial American cities. Who are we? What are we?
As the ceremony finished and James gathered up his warm-up jacket and his award, I lingered in the room because I wanted to congratulate him. And also to fulfill an instinct left over from my younger days in an NBA locker room. I was curious how tall he seemed up close. (A universal male instinct: literally to size up other males. Once, lingering outside a concert venue, my brother eased in among the autograph seekers surrounding R.E.M. drummer Bill Berry and surreptitiously placed the flat of his palm atop his own head, extending it levelly toward Berry's, shooting me a revelatory and excited glance: I am taller than a rock star!) As James neared the door, I reached out my hand, and he reached back with a palm the size of a palm leaf. We shook.
"Congratulations," I said.
He nodded awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. He was either just a kid or he was a burgeoning aloof celebrity. I couldn't answer which, but I believe it was the former.
"We went to the same high school," I said. "Or I went to the same high school. That you go to now. I went to St. V."
He smiled, but he didn't say anything. I'm sure all those he met, even at that early stage, were looking for some context, measuring themselves against him, as it were. His eyes drew him toward the exit.
And then, through the kind of fate that never, ever, ever, ever happens here, particularly with regard to sports, the woebegone Cleveland Cavaliers drew the first pick in the 2003 draft lottery and selected James, who emerged as a man in full, wearing a suit as white as ice, diamonds in his ears, to become the hero of a team that needed one deep down in its soul.
You're not the one who has to worry about everything.
The boy said something but he couldnt understand him.
What? he said.
He looked up, his wet and grimy face. Yes I am, he said. I am the one.
—CORMAC MCCARTHY, THE ROAD
I have spent my whole life watching people leave. This is a defining characteristic of the generation of postindustrial Midwesterners who have stayed in their hometowns. At every stage of opportunity, at every life crossroads, friends and family members and enemies and old lovers and vaguely familiar barflies depart. Piles of demo- graphic and sociological data chronicle this, the term brain drain serving as a sort of catamaran counterpart to Rust Belt. Akron's population peaked the decade I was born and has dramatically fallen every decade since—from 290,000 in 1960 to 199,000 in 2010. High school graduation, college graduation, career opportu- nity, layoff, coming of age, crisis of confidence, marriage, divorce— the conditioned, perhaps prescribed, response is to go somewhere else. They all leave. A conversational quirk exists among natives of this region: Whenever we hear people say they've moved here from somewhere else, we instinctively respond, "Why?"
And so those of us who have stayed through all of our versions of those same life moments have a perpetual reflex of self- explanation, a desperation of identity, an instinctive yearning toward legitimacy and a kind of pride that is a far piece from Chamber of Commerce jingoism. Something that allows us to coolly intone, "It's a Rust Belt thing. You wouldn't understand."
Look, we don't get to be cool very often. We take it where we can get it.
There may, then, be no professional athlete in the history of American sports more directly connected to the narrative of his or her hometown. Plenty have played for the home team, certainly, but James seemed actually fated to play for the home team, as though he was conceived of this time and place, concocted from the ash of ourselves by some higher power, which power predes- tined the arrangement of those lottery Ping-Pong balls, and which power, if you're going to play along with this sort of stoner logic, would (if ours is a benevolent God) also have to have known about "The Decision," thus implying that we need to understand why maybe that was a necessary turn of events. For us.
Once we began to believe we deserved him, we slowly began to recognize that we would also deserve whatever he became.
James grew up with a definition of loyalty much like the one I'd developed watching those shitty old wine-and-gold Cavs. He reveled in his closeness to his childhood friends, to the neighborhood barber, to those Swensons hamburgers. After turning pro, he got the Akron area code—330—tattooed in chunky script down his powerful right forearm: sense of place, writ large. He would repeatedly, in a way that only the true, ear-to-the-ground native understands, make a formal distinction between Akron and Cleveland, two places that stand shoulder to shoulder, thirty- five miles apart, and are entirely similar yet entirely something of themselves. (There's an old saying here: it's a half hour from Akron to Cleveland and two hours from Cleveland to Akron. [It's a Rust Belt thing. You wouldn't understand.]) We make this distinction in great part as a matter of identity, the way brothers and sisters choose to express their individual personalities, even within the family.
So it wasn't just that he was from here and identified overtly with being from here. It was the very notion of what that identification implies. Factory towns, places that make things, are defined by work. That should be obvious. But when that is the prime element of integrity, it insinuates into the pores the same way soot once did. Here, uniquely, we do things the hard way on purpose. We recognize a virtue and a necessary creativity in choosing to do things that way. I once heard Jack White—a native Detroiter; one of us—say that he preferred playing plastic guitars that didn't go into tune, that the challenge was inspiring. If the keyboard onstage needs to be two feet away for him to reach it, he moves it three feet away. The struggle becomes its own aesthetic.
And unto this place comes the most promising athlete in the world, and the most famous (and for us, the celebrity is vitally important), who, if you're going to do things the hard way, couldn't have asked for much better than the 2003 Cavaliers. Soon a cliché emerged, about James carrying the team "on those broad shoulders of his." And not just the team, but all of us.
It wasn't that LeBron James was the solution to our identity crisis. It was that he was its embodiment.
I was working in my office on a gray Sunday afternoon near the end of the spring semester, chilly gusts sweeping at the windowpanes. In the middle of a recession that had gutted the industry, I'd left my newspaper job and begun teaching at the University of Akron. There was an echo of commotion from out on the commons, and I rose from my chair and looked down to see a steady progression of people heading toward the basketball arena, one building over from the English department. I was finished for the day and gathered my things and decided to walk the long way back to my car, to see what was happening. As I approached, I saw a big satellite dish above a television truck and realized what I'd just walked into. LeBron James was being awarded the NBA's 2010 Most Valuable Player award, and he'd arranged for the presentation ceremony to be held at the University of Akron gym, where he'd played many of his high school games. The year before, he'd also been named league MVP and had brought this same event to St. Vincent–St. Mary.
I arrived at a loose yellow police tape, clattering in the breeze, cordoning off the traffic circle in front of the arena. A couple hundred people had gathered, awaiting James's emergence from the building, hoping for a glimpse, maybe a wave, a handshake, an autograph. He'd led the team, once again, through a stellar season, and now, with a play-off series against the Boston Celtics about to begin, the hope was growing into something like belief that finally, after all these decades, our championship was within reach. He could be the one to take us there. I looked at my watch. I decided to stay.
Soon his teammates, who'd been there at his insistence to share the award, began to emerge, waving and joking as they slipped into expensive automobiles, some with drivers, some alone. The coach, Mike Brown, jogged past in a golf shirt, wiggling his hand in a goofy wave. And then, we waited. A lull settled. The sky bruised over with clouds. A cold drizzle began. Every now and again, a figure would emerge, generating a moment's excitement before the realization that, no, it's not him. TV guy. Security. Crew. Nobody.
The crowd began to dwindle. I stayed. I wanted to see him, this person I identified with in unique and paradoxical ways. We, who have nothing and everything in common.
The rain picked up. I reached into my bag for a little pop-out umbrella, soon realizing I was surrounded mostly by Sunday-afternoon dorm students and strays, and that college students, as a rule, do not own umbrellas, and so I felt a little guilty but also a little superior beneath the flimsy comfort of this one. My guilt and my superiority both were soon relieved when a grunt in a hoodie insinuated himself underneath.
Time dragged along. A half hour. Forty-five minutes. An hour. More. A late-afternoon chill had set in. The crowd grew impatient, small jeers brewing with each false alarm. A car pulled up, slowing into an auxiliary driveway right in front of where I was standing, stopping near the entrance where the TV crews had been soldiering in and out like ants after an ice cream social. It was the sort of luxury car that appears not to be a real model, but a full-size toy, a prototype for a movie, a gleaming two-tone sedan, classic yet inscrutable lines, a capped silhouette at the wheel. It sat there for a long time, chrome exhaust breathing papal smoke.
And then, finally, he emerged, in dark glasses, flanked by two hard men shaped like telephone booths. He was dressed in a silvery suit and a robin's-egg shirt, hurrying toward the car in a now- steady rain. The first shout rang from the crowd:
"Go Celtics!"
I looked in the direction of the voice, wondering. You stood out in the cold drizzle? For more than an hour? Just to do that?
James didn't respond. One of the attendants popped the trunk and James slipped off his jacket and handed it to him. The man laid it out carefully, smoothing the cloth. James hurried around the corner of the car to the back door, raindrops spattering his sunglasses.
"Ass-hole!"
He disappeared behind the rain-streaked glass. The car pulled out and away.
The Decision. Yadda.
So I watch him now in these games that he plays for Miami and try to unravel the complexity of my response. Because he's some- one who still—just as others who've moved from Ohio into distant spotlights—represents my hometown, I want him to succeed personally. But not ultimately. Choosing Miami was choosing to not do things the hard way anymore. If there was a betrayal, that was it.
I want him to succeed, that young man from the newspaper conference room, so full of promise, of promises, of the hardest promises. But I want him to wish he were succeeding for us, for the only people who will ever really understand this desire of his to be, more than anything else, an identity.
I have heard James criticized for being more interested in his "brand" than his athletic legacy. But that's missing the point. His basketball talent, his basketball legacy, is a means to something else, and it's something unique in the history of sports celebrity. It's a means to the journey back through his own narrative, to translate the code written literally and figuratively on himself.
The not winning is the better story, you see, just in the same way that hope is harder than loss.
I say this as someone who came of age, who came to an under- standing, in a city no one else wanted. I explored abandoned buildings in the years I spent downtown while attending classes at the University of Akron. I watched pieces of that ruin be reclaimed, adapted, not desperately, but methodically, through a Calvinist instinct adapted into the genetic code by way of the repetition of a three-shift factory town.
I don't know if James ever understood exactly why we needed him, otherwise he wouldn't have left the way he did. But I do think he understood—even (and maybe especially) in those insults— how we needed him. And maybe that's why he left the way he did.
Three weeks before The Decision, the University of Akron announced that it was launching the country's first baccalaureate program in corrosion engineering, a program that would soon attract millions of dollars in federal grants, the money indicating the value of research on how to repair and preserve rusting bridges and buildings and military facilities. It was a natural and poetic fit; understanding rust in Akron is like understanding grass in Tullamore. The first stu- dents entered the program just as James was beginning his career in Miami, a place that couldn't be more different from his home.
The city that had first introduced America to the notion of a Rust Belt was now offering America's first bachelor's degree in the subject. We dubbed it the Rust Institute.
We own that shit, and no one can take it away from us.
He'll be back. I write these words now on the night that it finally happened: James, the Most Valuable Player, leading the Heat to a decisive championship; I, having immediately turned off the television after the final buzzer, not wanting to watch a celebration that feels bitter and wrong. I look at those words and I really believe them—he will come home—but I know I need to qualify this belief. You come from a misunderstood place and you develop a habit of qualifying everything—and I realize "hope" is the only way to do so, to ultimately believe that that is the force that will conquer, and I curse myself for this, for the goddamned hope of it all.
From The Hard Way on Purpose: Essays and Dispatches from the Rust Belt. Used with permission of Scribner. Copyright © 2014 by David Giffels.
AkronbasketballCleveland CavaliersLeBron Jamessportsportsthe kingthe Rust Belt
David Giffels
David Giffels is the author of five books, and two-time winner of the Ohioana Book Award. His critically acclaimed memoir, Furnishing Eternity: A Father, a Son, a Coffin, and a Measure of Life, was hailed by the New York Times Book Review as "tender, witty and . . . painstakingly and subtly wrought," and picked as a New York Times Book Review Editors' Choice. His previous books include The Hard Way on Purpose: Essays and Dispatches from the Rust Belt, also a New York Times Book Review Editors' Choice, and nominee for the PEN/Diamonstein-Spielvogel Award for the Art of the Essay, and the memoir All the Way Home (William Morrow/HarperCollins). His writing has appeared in the New York Times Magazine, the Atlantic.com, Parade, the Wall Street Journal, Esquire.com, Grantland.com, Redbook, and many other publications. He also was a writer for the MTV series Beavis and Butt-Head. He is an associate professor of English at the University of Akron, where he teaches creative nonfiction in the Northeast Ohio Master of Fine Arts Program.
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* Kevin et al hit the rapids in Copper Creek (http://www.ubc-voc.com/2016/02/25/kayaking-copper-creek) recently.
* Several VOCers (Kevin again, actually) did yet more whitewater kayaking throughHagan Creek (http://www.ubc-voc.com/2016/02/25/valentines-whitewater) .
* Daughter of Ice (http://www.ubc-voc.com/2016/02/22/daughter-of-ice-%C2%B7-feb-5th-feb-8th-2016) apparently went well. Pretty pictures included.
* Artem (Tall Artem, as opposed to President Artem) and Nick Gobin tackled the Judge (http://www.ubc-voc.com/2016/02/05/the-judge) .
Pretrip/safe skiing discussion for this weekend's skiing trip.
Marcin and Dmitri recount their epic.
Elfin Lakes is really nice, and the skiing nearby is excellent at the moment. You should go.
Snowspider Hut is a tiny little hut in a really picturesque area. The trip's a bit tentative for the moment.
It is that time of year again where the VOC Hosts the Best of VIMFF! This is a fundraiser event.
The only traverse that arguably has better views than the Neve, this is a difficult but rewarding trip. Side trips up the nearby peaks optional but recommended.
Beginners welcome! If you haven't skied before, this trip is for you.
* Team Bad Idea have posted another rafting TR. (http://www.ubc-voc.com/phorum5/read.php?3,117035) An unforgettable epic of truck fires, pleasant locals, and fun of all types.
* Matteo's Neve trip (http://www.ubc-voc.com/phorum5/read.php?3,116353) went well.
* A bold new method of placing ice screws has been developed which will surely change the sport forever (http://www.ubc-voc.com/phorum5/read.php?1,116920) .
Nothing from Ms Manners this week, sorry.


A readable and trouble-free creation to fluid mechanics, this high-level textual content is aimed toward complicated undergraduates and graduate scholars. Mathematicians, physicists, and engineers also will make the most of this lucid remedy. The booklet starts with a derivation of the equations of fluid movement from statistical mechanics, by means of examinations of the classical conception and a element of the fashionable mathematical conception of viscous, incompressible fluids.
Utilized study in Hydraulics and warmth stream covers sleek matters of mechanical engineering equivalent to fluid mechanics, warmth move, and move keep an eye on in complicated platforms in addition to new elements regarding mechanical engineering schooling. The chapters aid to reinforce the knowledge of either the basics of mechanical engineering and their software to the answer of difficulties in glossy undefined.
The ambient temperature and pressure are T 0 = 216K 4 2 P 0 = 2 × 10 N ⁄ M . 28 × 10 J/kg . 0. A normal shock stands in front of the inlet. 5 3 P0 4 e M0 = 3 shock and the stagnation temperature at station 4 is T t4 = 2000K . 5 = 8 , A 1 = A 3 = A 4 and A 4 ⁄ A e = 3 . Determine the dimensionless thrust T ⁄ ( P 0 A 1 ) . Do not assume f<<1. Neglect stagnation pressure losses due to wall friction and burner drag. Assume that the static pressure outside the nozzle has recovered to the ambient value.
A typical thrust plot is shown below. 12 Ramjet thrust The optimization question is; at what Mach number should the ramjet operate for maximum thrust at a fixed τ λ ? 39) with respect to τ r and set the result to zero. ∂  T  ------------- = ∂ τ r  P 0 A 0 τλ      2 τ λ    τ λ τ r  1 – 3 τ r + 2 ----- τ r  + τ f  τ λ + τ λ τ r – 2 τ r -----  τr   τr     2γ   ------------  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- = 0 γ – 1  2 τλ   ( τ f – τ λ ) τ r ----τr   .
Solution - The first point to recognize is that the stagnation pressure at station 4 exceeds the ambient by more than a factor of two - note the pressure outside the nozzle is assumed to have recovered to the ambient value. 1975 . 8 ° K . 19 3/21/11 Example - Ramjet with unstarted inlet m˙ f h f = ( m˙ a + m˙ f )h te – m˙ a h t0 . 0344 . 49) Now we need to determine the flow batween stations 1 and 3. To get started we will neglect the fuel addition for the moment. Knowing the Mach number at 4 and the stagnation temperatures at 3 and 4 we can use Rayleigh line results to estimate the Mach number at station 3.


HCA Capitol View is 670,000 sf mixed use development currently under construction for the Hospital Corporation of America. This multi-phased project has required multiple crews and unique engineering solutions, such as for heavy transfer beams cantilevered three stories over open excavation. Harcon has utilized three different specialized high production shoring systems to ensure that the schedule is met and that our customer is satisfied.


Shoppers are more sophisticated and demanding than ever. They are interacting with brands at all hours, in a variety of places, and across multiple channels. In fact, 73 percent of shoppers are leveraging multiple channels and technologies to support their shopping journeys.
Unfortunately, only 8 percent of retailers believe they have mastered the creation and delivery of omnichannel experiences.
At the same time, industry disruption and business cycles are accelerating. Brands need to be agile to compete in the hyper-competitive marketplace and systematically innovate to take advantage of new opportunities. Amazon, for example, continuously innovates executing millions of system updates annually while competitor Jet.com utilizes a similar approach to rapidly iterate and scale. Both of these companies have implemented agile microservice strategies to support the complex omnichannel scenarios and dynamic business conditions encountered in modern ecommerce.
To give retailers the most agile way to make every moment shoppable, Adobe is proud to introduce a new set of commerce integration capabilities delivered as flexible microservices. These modular services can easily be customized and extended, giving brands the ability to support new business processes and deliver engaging omnichannel experiences. For example, an office supply retailer can create a new Internet of Things enabled process that automatically re-orders printer ink. Another example could be a manufacturer offering a new rental service that integrates with commerce and inventory management systems. The possibilities are endless.
The new microservices are deployed on Adobe I/O Runtime, Adobe's platform-as-a service that lets developers quickly deploy and customize code. This enables developers to reduce development time from weeks to hours, accelerating the release of new innovations. Adobe's commerce microservices are also versionless, so the integrations and customizations will continue to work as companies upgrade their existing systems.
Omnichannel is not a new concept, but the reality is that retailers are wrestling with a complex ecosystem of specialized applications and custom services to support these interactions. Each of Adobe's commerce microservices integrate directly with Adobe Experience Cloud as well as leading commerce and business platforms like commercetools, Elastic Path, and Magento.
Adobe's new experience-driven commerce solution is being showcased this week at the National Retail Federation Big Show. Join us at booth #4351 during NRF to learn more and see the solution in action.


It is a period of great upheaval. The vengeful Junko has begun her assault on the Lunar Capital, while the impure of Gensokyo run amok.
The things that can't be cut by this youkai-tempered Roukanken are next to none!
For you lovers of spectacle out there, I bring you Erase Shot, a new Battle Deck card from Lunatic Extra. This card combines the basic effects of Shoot and Graze, while not giving you the bonus options those cards present.
The awesome art was done by Japanese artist Mieharu.
Before you ask, when playmats return (Soon TM) this will definitely be one of the options!
If ears+tail is 10% furry, does that make Ran 50% furry?
Another piece by Gina today because why not?
Yakumo Ran joins Danmaku!! as the second member of the Yakumo family. With her power to control Shikigami, she sacrifices any meaningful Ability to instead have a super-sized and super-flexible Spell Card. Ran cannot change her Shikigami (Extra Character), so choose wisely at the beginning of the game!
Of special note are how Bomb cancels work when facing down Ran. If Ran's Extra Character's Spell Card is canceled, she cannot activate "Banquet of Twelve God Generals." However "Banquet of Twelve God Generals" can be canceled separately from her Extra Character's Spell Card, if you choose to do so, or are forced to do so because she has a Scarlet sister as an Extra Character.
Unzan is here to teach you kids a lesson!
Unzan is a traditional man, he doesn't like uppity kids drawing the entire deck into their hand and taking forever on their turn. Unzan believes a real youkai doesn't need fancy things like damage draw or various ceramics of avarice. All Unzan needs is his fists.
Unzan is not all grit and muscle however, he can appreciate delicate things, he keeps a cute hitbox around to show his delicate side.
Unzan was illustrated by Gina Chacón, who came to our aid in a sea of artists who don't draw men who are, ahem, distinguished.
PS Important Reminder: We are accepting Lunatic Extra feedback right now!


Making creative agencies & marketing firms a force for good.
After running three very different agencies in the last decade, I've learned the best way to foster genuine culture, live out a real purpose, and drive true impact is to work on work that matters. In other words, using your time and talent on clients where the outcome is about much more than the bottom line. Read on for 10 DOs and DON'Ts to drive real social change.


text:
ATSC 3.0 Bootstrap Signal Becomes Candidate Standard
Tells receiver to decode multiplexed signals
Deborah D McAdams
WASHINGTON – The first of five components in the Physical Layer transmission standard for ATSC 3.0 has been elevated to "Candidate Standard" status.
The ATSC's Technology Group developing ATSC 3.0 has voted to approve the elevation of "System Discovery and Signaling" technology to Candidate Standard status. This so-called "bootstrap signal" portion of the Physical Layer (A/321 Part 1) will be important to the future evolution of ATSC 3.0.
"The Candidate Standard process for ATSC 3.0 is officially under way," said ATSC President Mark Richer. He said the core elements of the Physical Layer—including the modulation system, error correction algorithms, constellations and other aspects—are expected to be balloted for ATSC Candidate Standard status this summer. (See " Q&A: Mark Richer on ATSC 3.0 Progress. ")
The ATSC is in the process of developing the next-generation ATSC 3.0 terrestrial television broadcast standard with advanced performance and functionality made possible by new technologies and strategies. This next-generation standard must provide improvements in performance, functionality and efficiency that are significant enough to warrant the challenges of a transition to a new system.
The bootstrap signal for ATSC 3.0 transmission will remain a Candidate Standard for nine months while prototype equipment may be built and tested in advance of balloting for the entire system. The TG3 Candidate Standard ballot for this portion of the Physical Layer was issued April with a May 5 voting deadline.
"Simply put, the bootstrap is a low-level signal that tells a receiver to decode and process wireless services multiplexed in a broadcast channel. It's designed to be a very robust signal and detectable even at low signal levels," Richer said.
The bootstrap signal provides a universal entry point into a broadcast waveform. It employs a fixed configuration (such as sampling rate, signal bandwidth, subcarrier spacing and time-domain structure) known to all receiver devices and carries information to enable processing and decoding the wireless service associated with a detected bootstrap signal, as well as a flag which indicates that an Emergency Alert is in effect.
"Many other services, at least some of which have likely not yet even been conceived, could also be provided by a broadcaster and identified within a transmitted signal through the use of a bootstrap signal associated with each particular service. This new capability ensures that broadcast spectrum can be adapted to carry new services in the years ahead," Richer said.
The Candidate Standard for the first part of the ATSC 3.0 Physical Layer precedes next week's ATSC 3.0 Boot Camp and 2015 ATSC Broadcast Television Conference, planned for May 13 and 14 at the Reagan International Commerce Center in Washington.
"The May 13 ATSC 3.0 Boot Camp will be an ideal place for a deep technical dive on the current status of the standardization effort, from Candidate Standards that will face real-world trials to remaining elements that must be investigated and evaluated as the full ATSC 3.0 standard is finalized this year," Richer said. The business- and policy-focused May 14 ATSC Broadcast Television Conference, "Tune In to the Future," will review how TV technology is evolving to better serve viewers, broadcasters, and related industries.
"As a standards-setting organization, we have scores of experts working now to set the standard for ATSC 3.0, the broadcast TV standard that over-the-air broadcasters will use to deliver new content, reach more viewers on the go, and enhance the viewing and listening experience with 4K Ultra HD video, immersive audio and mobile services. We fully expect ATSC 3.0 to be more flexible for broadcasters and more useful to a connected consumer," Richer said.
Please let TV Technology know what questions you have about this component of ATSC 3.0.
ATSC 3.0 Physical Layer Elevated to Candidate Standard
The ATSC announced today that the "Physical Layer" transmission system for ATSC 3.0 TV broadcasting has been elevated to "Candidate Standard" status.
Samsung, LG, Contributed Technology to ATSC 3.0 Candidate Standard
Samsung and LG are among the companies that contributed technologies to the broadcast transmission scheme elevated this morning to Candidate Standard status for the ATSC 3.0 advanced TV distribution methodology.
ATSC A/342 Audio Elevated to Candidate Standard
ATSC has elevated the A/342 audio standard for ATSC 3.0 to the status of a Candidate Standard.
ATSC 3.0 Physical Layer Standard Approved
The Advanced Television Systems Committee announced today that the Physical Layer transmission system for ATSC 3.0 next-generation television broadcasting has been approved as a Final Standard, signaling that the standardization process for the entire ATSC 3.0 process is nearing completion.
10 More Technologies Move Toward ATSC 3.0 'Candidate Standard' Status
Ten more standards in the ATSC 3.0 suite of standards – including video encoding, Internet Protocol transport, electronic service guides and closed captioning – are moving toward "Candidate Standard" status this month, the Advanced Television Systems Committee announced today.
ATSC 3.0 Contributors: LG, Zenith and GatesAir
Technologies developed by LG, its U.S. R&D lab Zenith and partner GatesAir, are included in the new ATSC 3.0 Physical Layer Candidate Standard.
Q&A: Mark Richer on ATSC 3.0 Progress
What remains to be completed in the standard? E.g., how many components, and of what function are they?
First Element of ATSC 3.0 Approved for Standard
The Advanced Television Systems Committee has approved the bootstrap component of its developing broadcast transmission standard.


text:
El Colegio San Francisco Javier es una institución educacional católica de la ciudad de Puerto Montt, Chile, fundada el 15 de abril de 1859 por la Compañía de Jesús. Es parte de la Red Educacional Ignaciana de Chile, REI, y de la Federación Latinoamericana de Colegios Jesuitas, FLACSI. Una de las más antiguas del país, en sus orígenes estuvo enfocada en la naciente colonia alemana del sur de Chile y actualmente es un colegio mixto que recibe a más de mil alumnos en sus niveles de Playgorup a Cuarto medio.

Historia
La historia del establecimiento se inicia en 1859, con la llegada de los padres jesuitas Teodoro Schwerter y Bernardo Engbert acompañados del hermano José Schörber a la naciente ciudad de Puerto Montt. Esto ocurrió como resultado de la petición que el obispo de la diócesis de San Carlos de Ancud, Francisco de Paula Solar, le hizo a Pieter Beckx, entonces general de Compañía de Jesús. La misión de los jesuitas, que arribaron a Puerto Montt el 22 de marzo de ese año, era proveer servicios educativos y religiosos a los colonos católicos de la zona, que carecían de ellos a diferencia de la también numerosa comunidad protestante que comenzaba a llegar a la zona.

El barco Prince of Wales, en el que viajaban los jesuitas, naufragó en las cercanías de Ancud después de chocar con una roca y los misioneros perdieron todas sus pertenencias. Más de un siglo después, la campana que traían a Chile sería rescatada desde el fondo del Canal de Chacao.

En un primer momento se realizaron clases particulares en la casa de la comunidad jesuita, para luego crear formalmente la Escuela San José, que brindaba educación en diversas asignaturas esenciales para esos años.

En 1872 construyeron la Iglesia de los Padres Jesuitas de Puerto Montt y diez años más tarde, el 27 de abril de 1882, abrieron un nuevo colegio con el nombre San Francisco Javier, que conserva hasta la fecha. En 1893 se instala en la calle Guillermo Gallardo, a un costado de la Iglesia construida dos décadas antes, donde permanecerá por más de cien años.

Por los mismos años, en 1890, comenzó la construcción de la torre del campanario al que en 1905 se le agregó un reloj que aún funciona. Las cuatro campanas —construidas en Austria; la mayor, llamada San José, pesa 1750 kilos— fueron instaladas en 1894. El campanario, ubicado en un cerro que quedó encapsulado dentro de la propiedad del colegio, se convirtió un referente de la ciudad por las próximas décadas. En 1997 fue declarado Monumento Nacional.

En 1916 y 1917 se establecieron el tercer y cuarto año de Humanidades (hoy primero y segundo año medio). El último año se inauguró también un curso de comercio y contabilidad, que funcionó hasta 1930, en el que se formaron numerosos especialistas que tuvieron gran influencia en la ciudad. En 1949 se graduó la primera promoción de sexto año de Humanidades (hoy cuarto año medio).

Durante el siglo XX el colegio amplió su infraestructura: construyó nuevas instalaciones, entre las que se cuenta el gimnasio que sería utilizado como refugio para damnificados durante el terremoto de 1960, y adquirió la isla Chinquío.

En 2008 comenzó la transición a la coeducación.

En 2011 el colegio se trasladó desde las históricas dependencias ubicadas en Guillermo Gallardo, en el centro de la ciudad, al sector de Pelluco Alto, donde se levantó la nueva infraestructura, una de las más modernas del país y de Sudamérica. El proyecto tuvo un costo de cerca de 33 millones de dólares.

Patrimonio

Debido a su historia, varios edificios que han tenido su origen en la infraestructura del establecimiento han terminado formando parte del patrimonio arquitectónico de la ciudad de Puerto Montt. A enero de 2017 son tres inmuebles históricos los que se conservan:

 Torre campanario del colegio San Francisco Javier: Construido en 1890 y monumento nacional desde 1997.
 Iglesia de los Padres Jesuitas: Construida en 1872, y considerado inmueble de conservación histórica.
 Ex edificio de la Comunidad Jesuita: Construido en 1882 y considerado inmueble de conservación histórica. Desde 2014 el inmueble ha sido arrendado a la Universidad de Los Lagos.

Referencias

Enlaces externos
 Página web del Colegio San Francisco Javier
 Página web de la Red Educacional Ignaciana
 Sitio oficial de la comunidad jesuita en Chile
 Reportaje de Teletrece
Reportaje City Tour (Canal 13) 1/08/2013

Colegios jesuitas en Chile
Escuelas de la Región de Los Lagos
Arquitectura de Puerto Montt

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


The other sister produced two, who quite accidentally produced only one between them.
I note that Father Greeley has heard, and is discussing the "each one only replace yourselves" idea. I'm not sure when he really wrote it, but one of the on-line book sellers lists it as a 2000 volume. I realize that he can have had the ideas jotted down in a journal, etc. for a LONG time prior to that, but I was glad to see it again surfacing. It needs to gain a lot more airplay, the way the world is going now.


text:
Q: how do i turn on set the camera flashlight in automode programatically i have been developing a camera app in which i want to set the camera in auto mode,i tried the following
private void getCamera() {{
            try {
                camera = Camera.open();
                params = camera.getParameters();
                params.setFlashMode(Camera.Parameters.FLASH_MODE_AUTO);
                camera.setParameters(params);
                camera.startPreview();
            } catch (RuntimeException e) {
        }

since the camera class is deprecated this won't work.i couldn't find any alternative for this

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


When I was 13 I decided it was time I figured out what I would do with my life. I wanted to find my calling.
I want everyone to know who I am, but not get mobbed. I want to meet famous people. And I want it to have to do with music and concerts. Jobs that fit this description include DJ and back-up dancer. Of course there is always the option of becoming an interior decorator.
Perhaps you didn't know at 13 what you wanted to be either. Perhaps you still don't know. Our constant struggle is that we all know we created for a purpose and if we don't know what it is, we feel like we're a failure at life. I encourage you to change your thinking if that is the case. God has a plan for your life, too.
Besides my blossoming DJ career never panning out, at least I was beginning to think about what I would "do with my life." In the 7th grade, I became slightly more practical and decided I would become a TV news reporter after watching Fox News one night. Never mind I had braces, was painfully shy and couldn't even tell you who the Vice President was – I was sure it was my destiny.
Surprisingly, I held on to this dream throughout middle and high school and went off to college to major in Communications. Eventually I even did end up in a few TV stations, at the time validating that this was God's plan for my life – at least for the time being.
Backing up, somewhere in the middle of college a thought popped into my head that I wouldn't revisit for several years.
I decided I want to write a book one day. That or just publish this diary. For a while I am going to stop writing about the shallow areas of my life and instead write about my spiritual walk.
Although I wouldn't have labeled it a calling the day I wrote that, somehow I was beginning to understand the concept of doing something with my life that had spiritual implications, instead of a job that would make me money or famous.
I already mentioned that in college I majored in Communications so I could become a reporter. I ended up working in that field for five years after school when eerily similar to my first epiphany, one night I was watching the news again when Robert Gibbs came on, former President Obama's first White House Press Secretary. Although I really didn't know anything about him personally, I decided I wanted to move to D.C to be a press secretary for a Member of Congress.
Fast forward a bit and I did become one. You can read more about that story in full detail in Learning to Surrender My Career to God.
Unlike my initial dreams of becoming a DJ or TV reporter, I considered this job part of my calling, but not my life purpose. It was more like a piece of a large puzzle that would eventually all make sense.
Many of us view our calling as something we want to do, something that will pay the bills and God will bless. For some people it is a little flashier, but for others it may just be living life day-to-day in His will that brings us our greatest purpose. Regardless of who you are, our real calling is to follow Christ with all our hearts, minds and souls.
There days we, especially women, have more options available to us than ever before. We can be a doctor, missionary, writer, or even President of the United States. While this may feel liberating, sometimes we can feel overwhelmed by all our choices too.
Practically speaking, there are a few ways to figure out what you should be "doing with your life" although, I'd caution you that it is not an exact science, or magic formula. Ultimately, it's God's plans that will come to fruition, not just our desires. Our job is not to beg Him to give us what we want; it is to seek out His plan for our lives and pursue it with everything we've got.
Then ask others what they think you are good at. Sometimes we want something so bad we are blind to our real talents and strengths.
Remember, God has given you abilities that are special and unique for YOU.
Are you passionate about a certain political cause, kids, international development, music or something else? What do you care about the most or what issues are most important to you? Write down what you are willing to fight for. These are your true passions.
For me, God gave me a passion for women trying to figure out how to apply their faith to real life.
Here is where you brainstorm what makes you…you. How did you grow up? What is your personality like and what careers best suit it? Do you believe in God? What do you believe in? What is your day-to-day life like?
Notice any themes from all three sections in your own lists? Any places items from all three lists cross? Chances are you're beginning to understand your calling. Maybe you just realized you want to run for public office someday, or maybe that you want to be a stay-at-home mom. In an upcoming post I will talk about how to take what we think is our calling and put it through a "biblical filter" to discern if it may be God's will or not.
If we truly want to know God's plan for our lives, we must first be willing to surrender it to Him. That includes all jobs, ambitions and desires. I remember when this thought first struck me. Was I willing to give up all my claims to these and instead, accept whatever God had for me? What if God wanted me to become a missionary? Or what if He called me to a boring career where I would make no money? The irony is the more tightly we hold on to "our career" and don't allow God to work, the more difficult we are making things for ourselves.
God knows what's best. Do you trust Him? I understand that what's on the other side may scare you. But if we are following Him, He will prepare us for His plan and change our heart to joyfully accept it.
So where did I end up? Obviously not as a DJ or backup dancer (SAD!). Since I first thought about my calling I've been an ice cream scooper, campground bathroom cleaner, reporter, Communications Director for a Member of Congress, and writer.
Where do my talents, passions and personality intersect? I believe in writing about my faith to help other women become the women THEY were meant to be. I'm still not sure what that looks like but then again God's not done with me yet.
Did you realize something you didn't about your calling before? Did you find your calling?
I love these 3 steps. Too many people are living lives of quiet desperation, not being aligned with their calling (or God). The one thing I would add is that it is possible to not have just one calling throughout life. Keep praying and listening. I was a dental office manager for years and then felt called to become a life coach and counselor. It's okay to shift gears when you are pulled in a different direction.
Yes – totally agree! You can have multiple callings in life!
I am currently trying to figure out what God wants me to do with my life. I have a few different paths to travel down at the moment, and currently I'm going down all of them. It's exhausting but I KNOW I'm suppose to be on all of them. Thank you for the reminder to do Gods will above my own.
Good luck, Lauren! I know God will lead you there.
Loved this post! I can't wait for the follow up. God has been doing strange things in my life lately and I feel that my calling will be changing in the near future.
I've been there and i still think i am there …. trying to find my purpose. I recently quit my day job to freelance and i am feeling more alive that i have ever been. It was such a drag working in a office , building someone else's dream when i knew deep down i have what it takes to make it on my own and so i did and its been going great. Sometimes it can be intimidating because i am introvert but i keep surprising myself.
Sue – if you know that's your calling it makes it so much easier. Good luck!
Thanks, Summer! I really appreciate that.
Figuring out my calling has been a challenge for me – I wish I'd seriously considered what I want to do with my life when I was 13! I've always wanted to write, but I struggle with WHAT I'm supposed to write – I have so many ideas, but I struggle with deciding with God wants me to be writing and what will fulfill me.
I've lost touch with my spiritual path lately, so this was a good read for me. Definitely food for thought.
You've made a difficult and tricky topic clear and easy to manage! Thank you! I work with people in my job all of the time who face this challenge and this post is going to be a resource from now on!
haha it really is! Good luck, Sam!
You are spot on! Great advice here!
Exactly! And remember, you may have several callings in life! Good luck, Megan!
Every few years I go through those steps, and figure something out but am too scared to pursue it.
I have decided quite recently though that I don't want to be famous, I don't want to be rich, and I don't really care if people know who I am. I want a simple life with happiness and god in my heart.
A simple life with God in our heart – it can't get better than that!
Keep going, Peta! Good luck!
This is beautiful and motivating. I just wish you wrote this before when I was looking for my calling. Haha. Hope those who are searching will find this.
Lux – hey the important part is that you found it!
I like your steps to finding your calling. It's also so important to differentiate between your job and your calling. Thanks for sharing!
This sounds old fashion but I always just wanted to be a wife and mother. Funny now how I have turned this into a business now that the children are all grown. Never know where life where lead you.
That's awesome that you were/are able to do both, Candy!
AHHH!! Legit got the warm and fuzzies reading your diary excerpts! haha love it! and all great points you mention!
This a greatvarticle. I just recently started thinking about what my calling is. My sister committed suicide in 2015 and it completely shattered my world. She was my best friend and I couldn't understand why she left me. She also had a fiance and 2 sons and my 3 daughters. I knew why, technically, but I couldn't understand why no one could help her get past her underlying issues. I read more and more about 13 and 14 year old children killing themselves and it breaks my heart. I want to speak at high schools about teen suicide and mental health in general. The public school system doesn't have the funds to hire full time mental health professionals. I want to change that. If we can help these kids at a young age, who knows, maybe the amount of suicides, at all ages, could decrease. I might be a crazy dream but I intend to follow it. I couldn't save my sister but maybe I can save or help someone else.
Connie, I am so sorry for your loss. I cannot even imagine. I think it is amazing that you are taking that experience to help others though. I hope you do get to help many many young people work through it!
Robin, so cool you came full circle! Sometimes its our initial instinct that is correct all along.
You have such a cool story, Sarah! I've known my calling was to be a writer since I was in the fourth grade, but I did step away from it for a long time. I've been a hostess, a retail manageer, a paralegal, and ran my own crafting business since then, but now I'm back and couldn't be happier!
Isn't it interesting sometimes, the way things come together?
I still can't decide on my calling. I love so many different things, but none of them will ever make me any money… Maybe not even a living wage. I have to pay bills… Blah. So I go to school for a while, then decide I'm not sure what I want to be and I take a break, and then I get the itch to go back because education is important, but I still feel too aimless.
Angie – it can definitely feel like a rollercoaster at times!
Great post! I too majored in journalism and was a newspaper editor/photographer for 10 years before deciding that what I really wanted to do was help people in a more tangible way. So, I left my good-paying career, and as a newly divorced single mom, returned to school and became an RN. It was a long, hard road, but I'm so glad I persisted. I have been a nurse for six years now and am currently a labor and delivery nurse. I really feel like this is my calling and it's so humbling and rewarding to be a part of such a special part of a family's life in the manner I am.
What an AWESOME way to actually explore calling in both a practical, meaningful way. I lovelovelove this post girlfriend!! Sharing it out ASAP!
Isn't it interesting the vast differences of a career life. I could really relate to the bit about not wanting to let go of the control of what I was doing. If I did surrender to God he would ask horrifically hard things of me. Yet as I have matured in my faith and have learned to surrender that control. I too have had a varied journey of careers, but God has been faithful through it all. Thank you for sharing your story, it is encouraging.


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Posted on 6 April, 2019 29 November, 2019 Categories Uncategorized, Written Reviews
Disney's 2019 remake of Dumbo, the problematic but otherwise lovable 1941 classic, is a perfect example of why these remakes should not be made.
I had low expectations going into Dumbo for a variety of reasons. While I haven't seen any of the "live-action" (read: CG+) remakes of Disney's remarkable older films before this one, popular consensus has been that they have been all over the place in terms of quality and worthiness to exist. Lindsay Ellis made an excellent video essay last year about the Beauty and the Beast remake, which I can't recommend enough. In it, she details the ways in which, on paper, it is a shot-for-shot remake (so why should it exist at all?) and in practice, it misses the point or over-explains things that don't need to be, and makes for a great exercise in cinematic uselessness.
To my mind, an unnecessary shot-for-shot remake is about the best these things can aspire to be. In so doing, one loses the expressive quality and reason for being of the classic. And while I'm not staking any of my review on all this—that these movies shouldn't even exist—I do feel it's worth pointing out, as I said at the start, that Dumbo 2019 is a perfect example of why they shouldn't.
The new Dumbo is awful. And while I know it is awful compared with the original, that is also not the angle from which I'll be writing, because I haven't seen the original since something like 1993. I really don't remember the bulk of it. My memory of the thing is so hazy, in fact, that I've been bitching since I left the theater that the film didn't have Jiminy Cricket, a character that was actually in the film Pinocchio. So I hope you'll take me at my word then, when I tell you that on its own merits, Dumbo 2019 is bad.
For a start, Dumbo is not the star character. He and his mother are basically props. Humans are our main characters, and they are largely neither interesting, nor well-acted. There are two child actors who remind one of those videos you see online featuring uncanny valley automatons, which accompany articles about the ethics of rights for robots. The little girl of this pair also has some weird obsession with science that is in no way fleshed out, and which feels like a lazy pander toward modern attitudes about driving women into STEM fields.
The children's father is played, well enough, by Colin Farrell. He is a one-armed veteran of war and single father who works in a circus run by Danny DeVito. DeVito's was the only performance I was looking forward to, and he is uncharacteristically bad here, delivering his lines in a stilted, juttery way that makes one wonder, often, why they didn't try to get another take out of him.
The confusing quality of performances mount into a larger question as Michael Keaton appears wasted and Eva Green, like Farrell, does a better job with the bad material she is given: is Tim Burton just not a talent director? I mean, he always works with Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, both of whom don't seem like they need much direction in the first place. But then, I think back to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, a movie I actually kind of like, and the child actors in that film—as well as everyone else, come to think of it—did great jobs.
So what is it about this movie? I haven't got an answer, I just know that almost everyone in this picture does a poor job, particularly the hammy extras with speaking lines, like the audience members who taunt Dumbo when he debuts in the circus. By the end I was just chuckling at how bad many of these performances were, with the two children taking the gold medal for shit acting. And yet, again, I wonder how much of this was their fault. If everyone in the movie except the finest actors available do a bad job, then isn't it probable the director fucked up more than they did?
The film is also drab, both visually and tonally. The colors are all washed-out, and I think that is to give the impression of a faded photo or piece of commercial art from the early 20th century, only, why should that be, when the characters on-screen are living in reality and not in faded, flaking paint on the side of an antique circus carriage? This film had every opportunity to be colorful, and it might have helped the lack of cheer.
Oh, the joy and color of the circus…
But this movie is utterly joyless. Burton captures, quite on purpose, much of the horrific imagery of the circus, but he never seems to capture the mirth or excitement of it. What we see are a lot of unhappy people in an unattractive occupation, entertaining an audience of disgusting hogs. We see meaner, and then still meaner villains emerge to make it all worse. We see unhappy and abused CG elephants being used by people from start to finish, and all along, I am wondering what my nephew and nieces can possibly be getting from this experience.
They seemed to enjoy it when Dumbo flew. One of my nieces clapped her little hands off each time it happened. In those moments, however, I could only reflect on how Danny Elfman's (pretty good) score was trying its goddamnedest to inject some passion into scenes where there otherwise was none, and despite his best efforts, an enthusiastic score alone cannot save a dispassionate film from being boring.
There is just nothing to like about this version of Dumbo. The CG is awful, and the camerawork heavily focuses on it in too many close-ups throughout, possibly because to have many wider shots would make the work of producing this entirely-CG backdrop much heavier. The performances are somehow worse than the phony world they inhabit, and the title character is little more than set dressing for a bunch of unhappy humans to march about, frowning at each other for two fucking hours.
By contrast, may we now look back on an early scene from the original Dumbo, after his mother, who had waited so long for the stork to bring her a baby, is separated from the newborn. There is more emotion and expressiveness in this three-minute clip than in the whole of Dumbo 2019, and for that reason, it is the finest example of why these goddamn "live-action" Disney remakes do not need to exist.
Dumbo is Bad
GBU Season 2, Episode 6: Shazam!
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Public Appeals Gallery
Flashback: Maker of faith-based movie banned from Facebook immediately after posting Christmas card
Sep 3, 2018 jnewbyBlogscensorship, Christmas card, Facebook, faith-based movie, Orbiter
On Christmas Eve, David Rosler, maker of the faith-based 3D movie "Orbiter," did the unthinkable. Like so many others, he posted a Christmas card on Facebook. Apparently, something about the card triggered the social media giant, which banned him almost immediately after he posted it, Associate Producer Katherine Shell told the Conservative Firing Line in an exclusive interview on Sunday.
According to Shell, Rosler had not been on Facebook for 16 hours prior to this incident.
The ban came on heels of what appears to be underhanded efforts by the social media giant — once described as the "world's most dangerous censor" — to silence him and stop his project.
On December 12, Rosler, who has worked for more than 35 years as a producer, director, writer, animator, cinematographer, special effects expert, storyboard artist and more for TV, movies and Madison Avenue, said that he had been unable to post in groups, which he characterized as "the heart of crowdfunding on social media…"
"I have been for months attempting to raise a small amount of completion funding for a very original kind of Christian motion picture, Orbiter, a faith-based, live action, stereoscopic 3D science fiction motion picture for theatrical release," he told the National Religious Broadcasters (NRB).
"Facebook and Twitter both are plainly attempting, with remarkable success, to stifle progress and ruin my business. No 'glitchy algorithms' here, just plain old-fashion seek-and-destroy malicious censorship. What Facebook and Twitter have done, with their twin monopolies; one microblogging and the other macro blogging, is to collect the entire world into their control-spaces and then shut out the voices they do like like, basically controlling influence and business successes all over the world, like some kind of electronic ancient Rome at its peak."
According to Rosler, Facebook has repeatedly locked his account for no reason whatsoever. This harassment, he said, has been going on for months.
Rosler further said that he can usually get responses when he posts about anything else, but gets no response whatsoever when he writes about his film.
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The media industry is in the middle of one of its patented bloodlettings, with a wave of layoffs hitting HuffPost, BuzzFeed, and Gannett. Multiple Pulitzer finalists have lost their jobs. BuzzFeed was hit especially hard. CNN estimated that around 1,000 jobs between the three companies will be lost.
The old excuses for why this keeps happening just won't do anymore. People are still consuming news in large numbers. The right, which is reveling in the layoffs, has always hated journalism that doesn't contort to its worldview, so the "people distrust the media" reason is bunk, too. We know what the real problem is: The unholy trinity of corporate greed and mismanagement, private equity bloodsuckers, and tech behemoths leeching ad money from news companies.
Verizon owns HuffPost and Yahoo News. Layoffs there haven't just hit the media division of the company; in December, the company announced that it would lay off around 7 percent of its workforce, or over 10,000 employees. This is the kind of thing you would expect in a recession, or if the company was flat broke. Neither of those things are true. Verizon netted $30 billion dollars in profit in 2017, and due to the scam Republican tax cuts passed in 2017, the company got $4 billion in tax breaks—nearly enough to cover what it paid for Yahoo.
The problems, at this point, are obvious. The question of how they can be fixed is more difficult.
One way they won't be is by relying on individual actions, like imploring people to disable their ad blockers and subscribe to local newspapers. Don't get me wrong; either is a nice gesture on a personal level. But we need to start thinking about ways to improve the industry that are more collective in nature if we're going to have any hope of saving this dying mammoth.
Slate's Ben Mathis-Lilley and others have covered a few different versions of what this looks like, but the end result would be the same: A redistribution of ad money to the news sites that people are actually visiting.
Considering the state of the government right now and how neither of these things seem plausible unless the debate shifts radically in the coming years, it's also time to start thinking about plans of action if this ship ultimately sinks. Initiatives like journalism cooperatives have had mixed success so far, but as more and more good reporters, writers, editors, and artists flood the labor market, they could be the vision of a future of journalism that isn't so reliant on millionaires and billionaires.
Eventually, something's gotta give. Until then, we're going to keep reckoning with these large-scale layoffs over and over again. Until then, more people are going to leave the industry entirely, and accountability for government and business—to the extent it even exists these days—is going to suffer for it. Until then, if you work in media (or any other industry): Organize your fellow workers against both the vultures you know and the ones you don't, and start a goddamn union.


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Florida Republican "poll tax" preventing former-prisoners from voting declared unconstitutional
Politics, Voting Rights
Republicans in the Sunshine State were highly dismayed when Florida voters approved a ballot measure last November restoring the right to vote to approximately 1.5 million convicted felons who had served their lawful sentences.
Prior to the passage of the measure, anyone convicted of a felony permanently lost their ability to participate in the electoral process in Florida, depriving them of a say in the passage of new legislation and their own governance.
The re-enfranchisement of thousands of former prisoners — including many minorities who were seen as being more likely to support Democratic candidates in a deeply divided swing state — so concerned the Republican majority in the Florida legislature that they immediately got busy passing laws to prevent the will of the citizens of the state as expressed in the successful ballot initiative from achieving its intended outcome.
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The bill that they passed — SB 7066 — ensured that a majority of former prisoners would be prevented from joining the voter rolls unless they first reimbursed the state for a massive number of fines, fees, and criminal restitution that the legislators claim the ex-convicts owe to the public as the price of their incarceration.
The Republican legislation was vigorously opposed by voting rights advocates who filed law-suits to overturn the ill-conceived bill.
"This law will disproportionately impact black Floridians with a felony conviction, who face the intersecting barriers of accessing jobs in a state with long-standing wealth and employment disparities," NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund litigation deputy director Leah Aden said in an article in the Law & Crime blog. "Because the Florida Legislature ignored these well-understood realities, SB 7066 must be stopped."
If the Florida Republicans thought that the move — so contrary to voters' wishes — would help them preserve their majority in the state legislature and their possession of both the Governorship and two Senate seats, U.S. District Judge Robert Hinkle has just burst their bubble.
Judge Hinkle declared that SB 7066's provisions were an unconstitutional reimposition of the dreaded legacy of the Jim Crow era South, the poll tax levied to prevent people without sufficient financial resources — historically primarily African Americans — from voting. As his ruling states:
[T]he State of Florida cannot deny restoration of a felon's right to vote solely because the felon does not have the financial resources necessary to pay restitution. And because, for this purpose,there is no reason to treat restitution differently from other financial obligations included in a sentence, Florida also cannot deny restoration of a felon's right to vote solely because the felon does not have the financial resources to pay the other financial obligations. [Another] court summed it up succinctly: "Access to the franchise cannot be made to depend on an individual's financial resources."
"Suppose a state adopted a statute automatically restoring the right to vote for felons with a net worth of $100,000 or more but not for other felons," Hinkle hypothetically asked. "Would anyone contend this was constitutional? One hopes not. An official who adopts a constitutional theory that would approve such a statute needs a new constitutional theory."
And a state government that would enact such a law, needs a new state government.
Hopefully, the majority of those 1.5 million formerly incarcerated, newly eligible voters will register and vote for a slate of candidates that will sweep the reactionary Republicans from office both at the state and at the federal levels so issues like these never need to be addressed again.
Follow Vinnie Longobardo on Twitter.
Original reporting by Colin Kalmbacher at Law & Crime.


Let's face it. Avoiding the Freshman 15 during your first year of college can be pretty difficult. And it's even more difficult when your variety of dining options at Cal Poly are well– not the greatest.
My stats as of March 11. Photo by author.
Let me tell you the good news before I tell you the bad.
First off, I'd like to thank everyone for their amazing support. Honestly, DIY Dorm would not have been a success without all my friends and followers support. Never in a million years did I think this blog would have almost 5,000 views in just two and a half months.
With that, I would like to inform all of you wonderful followers that DIY Dorm will no longer be posting as often. After my video this Thursday, I will no longer be posting twice a week.
Now before you storm off on me all upset, know that DIY Dorm will be posting every two weeks or so instead. I will not abandon you lovely people, I swear!
Whenever a new DIY idea pops into my head, or I feel inspired, I promise to update you all on here first. Thanks again for being such wonderful followers, and stay tuned for Thursday's video blog!
How can you avoid the "Freshman 15" while being stuck in the dorms?
Stay tuned for DIY Dorm's video next week, with interviews from freshmen Natasha Bartolome and Emily Nguyen– two Cal Poly dorm residents that practice healthy habits on the daily.
The video will feature their tips for success, as well as some delicious, healthy recipes you can make in the dorms. Avoiding the unhealthy choices in college might seem difficult, but with Natasha and Emily's recipes, you'll keep the pounds off while satisfying your cravings at the same time.
Check out some of Natasha's meals she's made this quarter below. If you like what you see, definitely stay tuned for next Thursday's post!
Sure, Yogurt Creations and breakfast burritos from VGs are fine as an occasional treat. But after a while, campus food can really take a toll on your health.
Natasha and Emily's tips and recipes are not only easy, but cost effective as well– all following what this blog is really about. Well, that's all for now guys!
Taylor Karst and Bruce Mitcher– a true DIY couple. Photo by author.
Bruce Mitchener knows a thing or two about winning over a girl's heart…DIY Style.
You probably remember Bruce from the Beverly's Fabric and Craft Store post a while back. Yes, he's the childlike friend of mine who colored Scooby Doo and ran around the store like a five-year-old.
Sure, Bruce has his immature moments. But when it came down to wooing his current girlfriend, Taylor Karst, he's anything but juvenile.
Bruce creates roses from cocktail napkins, a DIY project that has been passed down in his family for years. Check out my interview below on how Bruce won Taylor over with this simple DIY idea.
The roses Bruce gave Taylor that she still keeps on her desk. Photo by author.
They both have their immature moments. Photo by author.
Whether you're a DIY expert or just a crafty beginner, craftgawker is a must for everyone. Learn more below.
This site beats pinterest anyday. Photo by author.
Craftgawker is similar to Pinterest in many ways, but stands out by letting only the best of the best DIY projects show up on your feed. That means no more endless scrolling through unrelated posts. And most of all, it promises that all the images are nothing but professional and high quality.
Download the app or check out the website. Photo by author.
The app is completely free (woo-hoo!), and the design is even simpler than the desktop site. But if you're desperate for a study break, the website is great for endless scrolling and has more options than the mobile app.
Quality is guaranteed when it comes to DIY projects. Photo by author.
Personally, sometimes Pinterest is just a little too overwhelming. Posts on Pinterest are sometimes DIY projects, but most of the time they're just links to other sites, pictures, etc. You'll click on the image of a cool project, and what do you know, there's no tutorial. With craftgawker, all posts are guaranteed to be projects you can actually do yourself.
From weddings to clothing, this site covers it all. Photo by author.
From clothing to candles, this site will teach you how to make it all. Don't know what you're in the mood to make? Try clicking the randomize button found on the app. It's a great way to explore multiple categories on your home feed.
Uploading to Twitter and Facebook is a piece of cake. Photo by author.
There's 100+ ways to share a post on the desktop site, from sites like Wanelo to Amazon. On the mobile app, you're a little more limited. You can only share posts on seven different social media sites, like Facebook, Twitter, and Pocket.
Treat Yourself After Midterms. You Deserve It.
Cotton Candy Frappe with the sis. Photo by author.
You've spent hours in the library, downed multiple espresso shots in order to stay awake, and given up on sleep all for one thing. Ah yes, it's midterm season.
Now that you've survived these past two weeks of midterms, hopefully your professors will give you a break. Nonetheless, treat yourself for all your hard work, and stop by Cal Poly's on campus Starbucks.
Due to the past two weeks, you probably cringe a little at the word. But I promise you, there are no espresso shots or Venti double-shot iced lattes involved.
Instead, try these yummy "Secret Menu" drinks, and give yourself a pat on the bat for your hard work.
Want More? Check out these links before your next trip to Starbucks.
Even though DIY Dorm as been a success, there's always room for improvement. No body is perfect, right? Below are a list of pros and cons of DIY Dorm I gathered from some peers of mine.
Now, here's a list of some solutions to your feedback to make your experience with DIY Dorm a great one.
The "Expert of the Week" Q&A can be cut down by quite a bit. Next time, there will only be three questions instead of five.
DIY Dorm has strayed into different topics sometimes, but stay tuned for next week for some new DIY ideas that will be featured.
Everyone seems to be more interested in the DIY project-themed posts, rather than the "off topic" story ideas listed in the cons section. I'll be sure to stay more on topic.
Feel free to comment below if there's anything else you think DIY Dorm can work on. Trust me, constructive criticism will only make this blog better! Heres some links to some sites that demonstrate the qualities listed in the "Solutions" section above. They're pretty rad.


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Brockton Point är en udde i Kanada.   Den ligger i provinsen British Columbia, i den sydvästra delen av landet,  km väster om huvudstaden Ottawa.

Terrängen inåt land är varierad. Havet är nära Brockton Point västerut. Den högsta punkten i närheten är Mount Fromme,  meter över havet,  km nordost om Brockton Point. Runt Brockton Point är det mycket tätbefolkat, med  invånare per kvadratkilometer.. Närmaste större samhälle är Vancouver,  km söder om Brockton Point.

Runt Brockton Point är det i huvudsak tätbebyggt.  Klimatet i området är tempererat. Årsmedeltemperaturen i trakten är  °C. Den varmaste månaden är augusti, då medeltemperaturen är  °C, och den kallaste är december, med  °C. Genomsnittlig årsnederbörd är  millimeter. Den regnigaste månaden är november, med i genomsnitt  mm nederbörd, och den torraste är juli, med  mm nederbörd.

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