Love is the hallmark of a Christian. Love is the wall that surrounds a disciple, love is the roof that protects him, love is the ground on which he rests. He who does not love is not a Christian. "By this the children of God and the children of the devil are obvious: anyone who does not practice righteousness is not of God, nor the one who does not love his brother…We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brethren. He who does not love abides in death" (1John 3:10,14). "Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love" (1 John 4:7-9). The more nearly pure and perfect our love for others, the more Christlike we prove ourselves to be.
But how can we love like that? Human and secular love instinctively dictates that we show care and kindness only to those who give us the same affection and devotion. It is a love that is limited and conditional – always with a big "IF".
"It was the holiday season and, of course a festive time for this socialite couple. Just as they were leaving for one of many parties, the phone rang.
"Sure, bring him home with you for a few days," the mother replied.
"Mother, there is something you need to know about my buddy. Both legs are amputated, one arm is gone, his face is quite disfigured, and one ear and eye are missing. He's not much to look at, but he needs a home real bad.
"I think that is asking a lot, son, but you get home soon so we can spend the holidays together. As for your friend, I'm sorry about his condition, but what would our friends think? How would I explain it to the people at the club? "And…" the phone went dead.
We have to admit that in practice we know very little about loving people. We know that our hearts often deceive us and we have loved and cared because of what we could get out of the situation. Paul speaks of "unfeigned love." Divine love is impartial, and is not dependent upon the beauty of the object being loved.
In John 3:16 we see this agape love that God has for us. "For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life." Love was the greatest motivation that compelled God to give the greatest sacrifice for us to receive the greatest blessing.
Jesus Christ came in His great humility, clothed as a man like us, knocking at every heart that obstinately rejected Him. "But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8).
WHY MUST WE LOVE WITH A CHRISTLIKE LOVE?
He first loved us. "But God, being rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places, in Christ Jesus, in order that in the ages to come He might show the surpassing riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus" (Ephesians 2:4-7).
The Holy Spirit pours this unfeigned love of God into our nature. Paul describes it beautifully in Romans 5:5, "the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us." He fills us with His Spirit so that He can pour His own holy nature of love through us as a constant, abundant, gushing river. The more we pour out, the more He pours in – ever fresh, ever cleansing, ever transforming, ever filling, ever Christlike – reaching out to and blessing others.
HOW CAN I LOVE WITH A CHRISTLIKE LOVE?
Commitment to Christ. Real love originates from God and grows and deepens as we deepen our commitment to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
Love's commitment and expression is a volitional thing. It is far deeper than emotion. It is not enough to be evangelical in faith and heart, we must be utterly possessed by Christ, utterly impassioned by His love and grace. Deep, deep love for Jesus becomes inexpressively emotional because it becomes a living reality of our whole being. We need personal love for Jesus so real and so preciously rewarding that it brings transformation of lives, our priorities, and our prayer lives.
Be filled with the Holy Spirit (Ephesians5:18).
A Spirit-filled believer is marked by intense devotion, eager earnestness, and loyal bond-service. Our continual renewal of our commitment to Christ, reaffirming our consecration, and hungering for more of His righteousness and manifestation of God's presence brings personal revival and fills us with the Spirit that sets our hearts on fire and fills it with divine love. There is nothing higher, deeper, more holy, more blessed, and more wonderful in all human experience than the fullness of love in our hearts. If this divine love is not constantly streaming from us Christians, we are not true representatives of Jesus. We are a misrepresentation. Christ can be represented only by love. As believers, "we are ambassadors of Christ" (2Cor. 5:20). He who does not pour out love slanders the God of love he claims to represent.
Self-Denial. To love with the love that God commands us is impossible for us, unless we can say with Paul, "I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live in the Son of God, who loved me, and delivered Himself up for me" (Galatians 2:20). Our self interests stifle the flow of love that the Holy Spirit pours in and through us. Jesus said, "If anyone wishes to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me" (Matthew 16:24). The cross given to us is a cross that has been provided on which we can crucify the self.
Elsewhere Jesus called devout men whited sepulchers. Our Christianity may be nothing but pretentious whited sepulchers, or clashing cymbals and brass, with all the noise and outward appearance, while inwardly it is nothing at all. The Bible reminds us that though man may be deceived by outward appearances, God looks deeper. Love is not an external thing that can be switched on and off, nor measured with some kind of spiritual thermometer. The love that He is seeking from each of us is a love that springs from a heart that has been touched by Him.
The shortest verse in the Bible is also one of the deepest in its terse expression of the reality of the incarnation, God's divine identification with sin-destroyed humankind in our need and the measure of Christ's unending empathy: "Jesus wept" (John 11:35). The lament of Jesus over Jerusalem during the third year of His ministry was not a momentary outcry. It was the abiding yearning of His all-consuming love. "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, just as a hen gathers her brood under her wings…" (Luke 13:34).
The Jesus who wept is the Jesus who still weeps and yearns for His children. He is still the True, Living, and Everlasting God and Father saying to those whom He had chosen, "I have loved you with an everlasting love; Therefore I have drawn you with lovingkindness" (Jer. 31:3).
If you have never placed your faith in God, the God who has revealed Himself in the Bible, we encourage you to read carefully and prayerfully the following spiritual truths.
You can know God and experience a vibrant, living and intimate relationship with Him. With salvation you will find meaning, direction, and purpose in this life and experience genuine peace, love and joy, receive forgiveness of all your sins, and assurance of eternal life in heaven through faith in God's only begotten Son Jesus Christ.
3. JESUS CHRIST IS GOD'S ONLY PROVISION FOIR MAN'S SIN. THROUGH HIM ALONE CAN WE KNOW GOD PERSONALLY AND EXPERIENCE GOD'S LOVE.
HE DIED IN OUR PLACE. "God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8).
HE ROSE FROM THE DEAD. "Christ died for our sins…and that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures" (1 Corinthians 15:3).
"But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name" (John1:12).
WE RECEIVE CHRIST THROUGH FAITH. "For by grace you have been saved through faith, and not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, that no one should boast" (Ephesians 2:8-9).
Receiving Christ involves turning to God from sin and self (repentance) and trusting in Christ alone, what He did on the cross to pay for our sins, and by faith receive Him as your personal Lord and Savior. Just to agree intellectually that Jesus Christ is the Son of God is not enough. Nor is it enough to have an emotional experience.
Lord, I am tired and weary. I cannot change on my own. I am a sinner and there is nothing I could do to save myself. Forgive me for all my sins. By faith I now receive Jesus Christ as the only Lord and Savior of my life. I thank You for the free gift of salvation and eternal life in heaven with you. I surrender every aspect of my life to your lordship, for you to mold and to change according to your will, that you alone may be glorified. I pray in the name of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
Does this prayer express the desire of your heart? If it does, pray this prayer right now, and Christ will come into your life as He has promised.
"Those who become Christians become new persons. They are not the same anymore, for the old life is gone. A new life has begun!" (2 Corinthians 5:17). Read 1 John 3:1-8.
THE BIBLE PROMISES ETERNAL LIFE TO ALL WHO RECEIVE CHRIST. And the witness is this, that God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son… He who has the Son has life; He who does not have the Son of God does not have life" (1 John5:11-13).
Thank God often that Christ is in your life and that He will never leave you nor forsake you (Hebrews 13:5).
Christ came into your life (Revelation3:20; Colossians1:27).
All your sins are forgiven (Colossians1:14; Ephesians 1:6-8)).
You are now a child of God (John1:12).
You received eternal life (John5:24).
You began the great adventure for which God created you (John10:10; 2 Corinthians5:17, 1 Thessalonians5:18).
Can you think of anything more wonderful that could happen to you than entering into a personal relationship with Jesus Christ? Would you like to thank God in prayer right now for what He has done for you? By thanking God you demonstrate your faith.
R Read God's Word– the Bible daily (Acts17:11).
O Obey God moment by moment (john14:21).
W Witness for Christ by your life and words (Matthew 4:19; H\John 15:8).
T Trust God for every aspect and detail of your life (1 Peter 5:7.
H HOLY SPIRIT: Allow Him to control and empower your daily life and witness (Galatians5:18, 17; Acts 1:8).
God's Word admonishes us not to forsake "the assembling of ourselves together (Hebrews10:25). If you do not belong to any evangelical church, do not wait to be invited. Take the initiative, call the pastor of a nearby church where Christ is honored and His pure Word is preached. Start this week, and make plans to attend regularly.


Ham and Potatoes…with some other fun addins.
In a slow-cooker, add the potatoes and onions. Pour in the chicken broth. Cover and cook on high for around 3 hours.
After the 3 hours, in a bowl, combine the cornstarch, thyme, and pepper to taste.
Whisk in the evaporated milk.
To the slow cooker, add the cornstarch mixture (slowly!), along with the ham and carrots. Cover and cook fpr another 30 minutes. Do a few stirs.
Serve the chowder in a bowl with a topping of broccoli (or croutons) with a smattering of the cheddar cheese.


text:
Home Los Angeles Public Library Photo Collection Lunchtime at Thomas Starr King Middle School
Lunchtime at Thomas Starr King Middle School
Title Lunchtime at Thomas Starr King Middle School
Photographer Leonard, Gary.
Collection ID Los Angeles Neighborhoods Collection
Location/Accession GPC_b1_f1_i18; A-010-131 4x5
Physical Description 1 photographic prints :b&w ;29 x 36 cm.
Description A group of boys play cards during their lunchtime at Thomas Starr King Middle School in Los Angeles. King Middle School is a public school that has been educating students from the Franklin Hills, Los Feliz, Silver Lake, Echo Park, and Hollywood neighborhoods since 1926. In 1995, Thomas Starr King Junior High School reconfigured to a 6th through 8th middle school; it has approximately 2,854 students. In September of 1996, the school community established a strict dress code and uniform policy that states that the school uniform must be worn while attending school, intersession or during school-sponsored activities. It is a year-round school, which runs on three tracks. Tracks B and C start at the beginning of July, and Track A begins at the end of August. Thomas Starr King (1824-1864) was a Unitarian minister, orator, teacher, activist for social justice, and ardent patriot. Photograph dated September 9, 1997.
Subject Thomas Starr King Middle School (Los Angeles, Calif.).
Middle schools--California--Los Angeles.
Uniforms--California--Los Angeles.
Middle school students--California--Los Angeles.
Schools--California--Los Feliz (Los Angeles).
Students--California--Los Angeles.
Los Feliz (Los Angeles, Calif.).
Los Angeles Neighborhoods Collection photographs.
Credits Part of the Los Angeles Neighborhoods Project. Made accessible through a grant from the Ralph M. Parsons Foundation.
Internal Notes There are two smaller additional prints.
Sub-Collection Name Los Angeles Neighborhoods Photo Collection

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
Q: Hover doesn't reset after click When clicking to get a new quote, colors change for all the page, including the button. However, if the user keep the mouse on the button (hovering it), the color won't change. Messing up the entire design.
Do you know how I could fix that?

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A: The reason why the hover effect appears to be broken after clicking is because the mouseover event is not fired. From a purist point of view, this behavior can be easily handled using some CSS: all you need to do is to create a custom

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


Stay Min 2 Nights get: Daily breakfast, 1 x 2 bottles of beer.
Stay Min 3 Nights get: Daily breakfast, 1 x Lunch or Dinner.
Stay Min 4 Nights get: Daily breakfast, 1 x Airport Pick up or Drop.
Stay Min 6 Nights get: Daily breakfast, 1x Lunch or Dinner, 1 x 60 mnt Balinese massage.
Stay Min 7 Nights get: Daily breakfast, 1 x Airport Pick up or Drop, 1 x 60 mnt Balinese massage.


If you are deemed eligible to sit for the Certification Exam, your demographic data, including a unique ID number, will be sent to Pearson VUE, the test administrators. This information will be sent once per week.
Candidates will be given their ID numbers and are then responsible for registering to take the exam at a Pearson VUE Test Center via phone (preferred) or web. Phone is the recommended method of scheduling as it provides for the most up-to-date information. You will not be required to pay any additional fees but you may not register with Pearson VUE without prior ABVLM approval and authorization. Scheduling instructions will be included in your acceptance letter.
Candidates are strongly urged to register with a Pearson VUE as soon as they are notified of their eligibility, as there is limited seating at any given test center. The ABVLM is not responsible for candidate access to or appointments at Pearson VUE Test Centers. Saturday test center availability is very limited. Please check with Pearson VUE for specific test center hours and days of operation.
Detailed information about registering for the exam will be provided in each candidate's letter of acceptance from the ABVLM.
The ABVLM Certification exam is delivered on the Pearson VUE testing system accessible for over 4,000 authorized test centers worldwide. Most Pearson VUE test centers are open on Saturdays, but some are not. Once registration for the Certification Exam is open, you will be able to check availability of days and times at specific test sites. Testing centers provide lockers for test takers that are 18" h x 15" w x 16.5" d. All centers have restrooms; however, Pearson VUE cannot guarantee availability of private restrooms or restrooms with electrical outlets.


Should Portillo follow Ken back into the fold?
I've just come back from a lecture given by Michael Portillo to the Bristol branch of the English Speaking Union.
He congratulated Cameron for bringing the party back to the centre ground to counter-point Blair and recalled Thatcher occupying the Right-wing ground when Michael Foot wrote his 'longest suicide note in history' Labour manifesto. "It contained unthinkable madness" he said, clutching his head in his hands. "Madness like... nationalising all the banks..."
"That was a brilliant speech. We must get Portillo back into the fold", lots of Conservatives said to me afterwards.


text:
Rustic Relics
Rusted Relics
Abstract Images
In Category: 'Travel'
Trek To Two National Parks in California Concludes Photo Outings for 2013
My final extended shoot was in mid-October to a pair of national parks — Sequoia and Kings Canyon, which to all intents and purposes form a single preserve. They lie between Yosemite to the northwest and Death Valley to the east. Sequoia sits atop Kings Canyon; together they are roughly an hour drive from Fresno.
As she did on all but one of the others (see earlier posts below), my wife, Pat, accompanied me, as, as is her willingly accepted role, served as shotgun-seat navigator and, while I am away from the car shooting whatever, avid book reader. Over the years she has read probably the equivalent of War and Peace several times over. To say she is a model of patience is an understatement.
The trip, which spanned four full days, included three nights at the one and only hostel on protected public land, Wuksachi Lodge, tucked away off SR 198 inside Sequoia park. Because it is the only game in town, it offers neither bargain rates nor luxury accommodations. Even blindfolded, guests are unlikely to imagine being magically transported to, say, a Ritz-Carlton. That said, the room, albeit smallish and a tad Spartan, was OK, the chow was good but pricey, and the location cannot be faulted. It affords myriad short trips – hiking, biking, shooting – in all directions.
One day was devoted to exploring Kings Canyon, an hour or so to the north. Roads are tortuous and unless one is driving a rugged all-wheel-drive vehicle (think Jeep), venturing onto trails is not recommended. But then the same is true of virtually any of the nation's 401 national parks, 32 of which are in California. (In addition, there are 155 national forests, which combined encompass more than 188 million acres. Eighteen of the protected areas are found in the Golden State.)
The drive to the lodge from our home in Lafayette, some 18 miles east of San Francisco as the crow flies, took almost six hours, considerably longer than we had expected. But then, we stopped to eat, refuel, and, of course, take time out for a couple of savory photos ops, both bound east from Fresno.
The first was what was left of a dwelling presumably consumed by fire. Besides the massive fireplace, all that remained were vestiges of masonry steps. I liked the contrast of the in-your-face stonework against the hills and the azure afternoon sky.
There was no signage to offer any clues either when it was built or when it was rendered to its present lamentable state. In any case, it stood out from the highway like the proverbial sore thumb.
Likewise beckoning me forth, a few miles down the road, was a prominently placed old Studebaker, perched on a mound behind a padlocked chain-link fence. Upon the gate hung a homemade sign reading "Squaw Valley Herb Gardens. Closed Sundays." Rats, I told myself, as the choice Rusted Relic "spoke to me," as they say. But then so do many old cars and trucks. Peering over the gate, I espied other Studebakers in the distance.
(Historical aside: Studebaker started producing cars in 1902. The first two years were electric-powered. One was purchased by none other than Mr. Electricity himself, Thomas Edison. Perhaps seeing the handwriting on the wall, not to mention Henry Ford's early feat, in 1904 Studebaker switched exclusively to gasoline engines. The last models stumbled off the assembly line in Detroit in the late 1960s, this following a death-rattle merger in 1954 with Packard. Collectors consider several models from the 1950s the most desirable, plus the 1963 Avanti sport coupe.)
As I hopped back into the car, I told Pat that I wanted to revisit the place the following Thursday, on our way back home. Looking up from behind the New York Times, she nodded her head up and down, which I read as a gesture of affirmation, as nothing was spoken.
One huge benefit of visiting the parks when we did, in mid-October, was that, with school back in session, crowds had thinned. We also were blessed with glorious weather – highs in the mid-80s and blue skies. I should add, "mostly cloudless" blue skies, and few if any landscape photographers pray for no clouds, as their daytime absence generally translates to visual boredom.
One day we drove a half-hour or so south to behold, as do virtually all ambulatory park visitors, the grandiose General Sherman tree pictured (below left). It is reputed to be the "largest living thing on earth." It stands 275 feet tall, has a girth of 79 feet and is guesstimated to be 2000 to 3000 years old.
Two other must-see trees in the park are the General Grant (above right) and the President, 267.5 and 247 feet, respectively. The former was dubbed the "nation's Christmas tree" by Calvin Coolidge in 1926; the president alluded to in the latter is Warren Harding.
Having ogled the Grant tree, we ventured into the bowels of Kings Canyon, to the end of the road, some 50 miles past the visitors center. It terminates mid-way through; there is no egress or ingress to the park from the eastern side.
Surveying a map laid out on the counter at the visitors center, I remarked to the ranger on duty, "Too bad it isn't like Yosemite, where roads go all the way through." She looked at me, and replied in a polite but firm tone, "We don't WANT to be like Yosemite, with gazillions more visitors. We like being relatively hard to access." Me, sheepishly: "Oh, I see."
Toward the end of the Road To Nowhere I jumped out of the car long enough to take a photo of a waterfall that, to my pleasant surprise, actually had falling water. It tumbled from its source high in the mountains into the Kings River below, which, given the time of year, was down to a trickle.
The day following we saddled up at the lodge and wended our way south on Hwy. 198 to the seen-better-days hamlet of Three Rivers (pop. 2,182), which bills itself as the "gateway to the Sequoias." More accurately, it is the southern portal, not the only one. (Score one for the Three Rivers Chamber of Commerce, if there is one, and there probably is not.) After refueling at the indisputably only gas station, we retraced our way back, but not before a tourist-obligatory stop at locally famous Reimer's Candies, Ice Cream & Gifts shop. In addition to yummy homemade ice cream, it offers "more than 80 sinfully delicious and rich" varieties of homemade chocolates. We did our best to restrain ourselves, drawing the line (or belt) at single-scoop cones and four truffles. The cones were scarfed within nanoseconds, the chocolates were wending their way through the alimentary canal by day's end.
Although the distance between our lodge and the village is only 20 miles, it mostly switchback roads and, of course, the seemingly unavoidable motor homes, which, in my opinion, should be the next target of the Tea Party. Fortunately, there are turnouts, and, equally fortunately, there exist motorhome drivers who are courteous enough to use them. As we tiptoed past one, we waved a thank-you to the driver while throwing pope-blessed holy water on it. There are indeed nice people.
We ourselves made use of a turnout up the windy road, enabling me to take this picture of a misty vista overlooking the Kaweah River.
I did so as quickly as I could, as I did not want to find ourselves stuck behind the self-same motorhome, especially because we were out of holy water.
After taking a lovely, leisurely walk the following morning along a trail behind the lodge, we packed up, checked out and headed home. In all, a most enjoyable, relaxing (sloth-like motorhome incident notwithstanding) mini-vacation.
As promised (to myself), we did in fact make a return visit to Squaw Valley Herb Gardens. It being a weekday, the front gate was open. However, in lieu of the "closed" sign, which had been removed, there appeared one reading "By Appointment Only." Pretending that I didn't notice it, I drove inside, greeted first by the shell of a delectably weathered, decaying old Ford sedan, then by a pickup truck,
kicking up dust in its wake. It pulled alongside. Craning out the lowered window, the driver, whom I correctly presumed to the property owner, asked, "May I help you with anything?"
"Yes," I replied through my own lowered window, "I am a car buff and a photographer, and I'd love to take some pictures of the old cars, I you'd be so kind."
He: "As you can tell, I'm an old-car buff myself, and you are more than welcome to take any pictures you desire. In fact, if you like, I'm happy to give you the nickel tour."
Shazam! Not only did was I not invited to scram, I was being invited to a personally guided tour by the collector himself.
"Park over next to the Ford. It's a 1947, by the way, and, up close you can see that it's a shell and just the front end. Its real purpose is to conceal the propane tank," he said, smiling. "My name is Tim. Yours?"
"Tom," I replied, handing himself a business card.
Tim escorted me through the grounds, five acres in all, stopping along the way to comment on this, that and the other vehicle artifact, which besides the cache of Studebakers, included a 1956 Mercury, a 1926 Ford and the disembodies front fender from a 1949 MG.
Additionally, there were a handful of old signs strewn about. Tim paused to explain why there were so many old signs. "I am a sign maker by trade, so there is a natural affinity for collectible signs. What you see here is from a store in Fresno that was going out of business. The owner said it was mine free and clear, provided that I paid for its removal and hauling. It cost me $200 to have it taken down and lovingly place in the bed of my truck. They say there is no free lunch, but this came close," he added, smiling broadly.
Eliciting even broader smiles were the all-original (a.k.a. unrestored) Studebakers, six in all. Beside the 1950 model in front, there were 1949 and 1957 coupes, and a prized (and rare) 1954 two-door station wagon, declared by Tim to be his "pride and joy."
I asked, hopefully, if it might be for sale. Nope.
Having completed the "official tour," he walked me back to my car. As I was opening the door, he asked, "Did you get any pictures of the Studebaker at the front gate?"
"I took a couple from behind the closed gate last Sunday, but I actually would like to have a few others."
"Be my guest."
As I was clicking away from different angles, meanwhile trying to avoid shooting directly into the sun, Tim recited the car's history.
"It's a 1950. You can tell immediately by the front end, with the distinctive 'torpedo' nose. I bought it 30 years ago for $75 – cash – from the original owner, a little old lady in Fresno who grudgingly parted with it. As you may have surmised, I haven't lifted a finger. It's totally unrestored, and this is how it will remain as long as I own it. You'd be surprised how many people, like yourself, stop to take a gander. It's a real attention-getter."
Narrated tour completed, I extended my hand, thanking Tim for the hospitality and permission to take pictures. "Any chance I can see what you've shot?"
"Absolutely. Once I'm home I will download the images, and after editing and posting them to my website, I will send you a link. You are welcome to any desired, and there are no restrictions … and no copywrite watermarks."
"That would be great, much appreciated."
"My e-mail address and website URL are on the card I gave you. As a car buff, you might be interested in viewing other examples in what I call my Rusted Relics collection."
"I'll do that. Thank you!"
Photo-editing completed a few days hence, I sent my host a link to the gallery, reiterating that he was welcome to any images he wanted, just identify them by frame number.
Weeks hence I was still awaiting a reply, and I know for certain that my e-mail did not bounce. It may still be circling in cyberspace above Squaw Valley. But then, perhaps I unduly flatter myself. For all I know, Tim did see the photographs I e-mailed and decided for whatever reason he wasn't interested. Hard to imagine, but conceivable.:-)
Moral of tale: People are funny. Like life itself, photography is a crapshoot. One never knows what to expect, how things play out. Interaction with fellow humanoids is ever unpredictable. It's one thing that makes the "stumble-upon" nature of the adventures even more interesting.
Posted In: Abstract, Blog, Galleries, Landscape, Relics, Travel, Uncategorized.
SO MUCH TO REPORT, SO LITTLE SPACE (NOT REALLY)
Bouncing Baby Boy Joins Family
Much water has crossed the proverbial dam since my last post in February 2012 (yikes, that long?!). Having been in hibernation for a seeming eternity, I feel a bit as Rip Van Winkle might have had he been handed a quill and instructed to start writing from memory. The analogy is a bit strained, however, as Rip presumably was sawing logs the entire time and therefore would have had nothing to report save perhaps for a few counting-sheep incidents and a nightmare or two.
Insofar as the website is concerned, the big news is that it completely redesigned, stem to stern. To do so I called upon the services of a professional designer referred to me by the folks at SmugMug, which hosts the whole enchilada. His name is Jerry and calls Michigan, home. The goal was fourfold: 1) Freshen content graphically, 2) Make it easier for visitors to navigate and find desired photos; 3) Facilitate the print-purchase process; and 4) add links to major social media – viz., Facebook, Google+, Twitter, Tumblr and Pinterest.
Any comment on the do-over is welcome. Only positive feedback will be acknowledged, however, so if you don't have anything nice to say, hold your fire (j/k). Seriously, I would happy to receive any feedback, be it pro or con.
Last February I became a grandfather again, this time to a beautiful boy named Bauer. As with the entire family, he is warmly welcomed and much loved by sister Kennedy, two years his senior. Whenever the opportunity arises, she eagerly participates in his care.
Recently moved, kids and parents now enjoy the amenities of a home spacious enough for everyone, which includes three very large dogs (Great Pyrenees). Bauer and Kennedy look forward to experiencing their first Christmas in a house with a chimney so that Santa can use the old-fashioned means of delivering his goodies.
Blog On Hiatus, Photographer Not As Fall Foliage Beckons
Neither sleet nor rain nor hail daunts either the postal carrier (the dwindling corps thereof) or the photographer who, such as I, tends to take his work seriously, sometimes bordering on ardently.
I spent five weeks – yes, that long – in the Northeast, a mere 3,000 miles from home in California, for the main purpose of shooting fall foliage [link to frame #1 of "Maine 2012 gallery"]. After nearly throwing in the towel trying to find an affordable rental that would serve as basecamp, I managed to find a house in Rockport, Maine, a lovely mid-coast town that adjoins Camden to the south.
After taking a virtual tour of the property, I questioned whether the price stated was perhaps a misprint. So I shot an e-mail to the landlady. No, $1,500 a month for the 3BR, 2.5B, three-level house two blocks from the harbor. I almost had to pinch myself. Whereas this is not loose change to those of us save perhaps the One Percenters, it was far, far below the sticker price for most like housing. Some extortionist owners were asking, and, for the most part, getting, $1,500 and up a WEEK! This is a photo I took of the serene Rockport harbor seen here. The vessel is a handsome hand-built charter schooner owned and piloted by a husband-wife team. During the winter months they operate out of the Caribbean. Not the kind of lifestyle that appeals to a landlubber like me.
Without hesitation, I reserved a block of six weeks, from mid-September to the end of October, hedging my bet, as it were, lest peak foliage occur earlier or later than normal. (Soon would I learn that making a reservation for three weeks, not six, would have more than sufficed. I purposed erred on the liberal side lest I arrive only to find that peak foliage had passed, or that, at the other end, I departed too soon.
The house more than meet my expectations – commodious, nicely furnished, full kitchen, ample yard, private – and the landlady, who resides year-round in Camden, was wonderful, catering to my every need, including getting a wifi connection within the house.
Upon arrival, on September 15, I quickly realized that I was early for what back there is called "leaf-peeping" season. Early by about two weeks. Not about to sit on my hands and waste precious dollars, I set out in search not of autumn color, but rather coastscapes, including what thereabouts are called "head lights" (two words) and what elsewhere is more commonly called lighthouses (although technically they are not one and the same).
One of the best of literally hundreds of exposures I took came on a Sunday afternoon – the first full day after arriving – of sunset over the Camden harbor. I hung around long enough to luck out in having several returning charter schooners sail into view. On subsequent day trips during the first fortnight, I ventured hither and yon, up and down the coast and into the interior. One treasure I stumbled upon in driving to a fishing village – lobster fishing, of course – was the Olson family farmhouse employed as the backdrop for "Christina's World," Andrew Wyeth's 1948 painting now part of the NY Museum of Modern Art collection.
A sign on the front lawn said the house is open for public tour. After taking umpteen shots of the exterior, I sauntered to the front door. I pulled open the wood screen door. Looking within, I said, quite audibly, "Hello, anyone here?" No answer. So I helped myself to a self-guided tour, camera in hand. I took scores of shots, some in every room downstairs and upstairs, finding, as I fully expected, some very interesting artifacts left by the last family to occupy the premises.
Done shooting on the second floor, I walked downstairs, having encountered no other human being during the entire walk-around. As I reached for the front screen door, I turned sideways, exposing the camera hanging around my neck to a woman who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. As it turned out, she was the docent du jour, who happened to be out back on break while pedaled about inside.
Surmising as she must have that I was on my way in, not out, she said, "Sir, I'm afraid that picture-taking is not allowed inside." "Oh," I replied, secure in the knowledge that unwittingly I had captured numerous no-no photographs, "Would it be OK if I took some OUTSIDE?" Answer: "Sure, no problem. Take as many pictures as you care to."
After pretending to take several shots from the front lawn, in plain view of the docent, I made a beeline to the car and drove off. In addition to one of the exterior, taken roughly from where the "Christina" model was posed, shown above are a couple of prized "contraband" photos taken inside. Please, mum's the word!
From there I continued to my intended destination, a village where, by luck, several fishing boats had just arrived with the day's catch. In talking with one of the dockhands, I learned a fair amount about the lobster-fishing industry, including – to my unsurprise – that it's a tough living. At the time, the wholesale price of lobsters had dropped drastically from the season prior, to about $2.00 a pound. (Bear this in mind when you order a Maine lobster at a restaurant that charges an arm and a claw.)
Here are photos I took one afternoon in Rockport. A lobster fisherwoman (females rare in the trade) watches the day's catch being lifted from her boat onto the wharf for transport to a waiting wholesaler. The close-up is of a crate of freshly trapped lobsters, claws banded lest they menace one another.
Two weeks having passed and still no fall color, I called the landlady. "Leslie," I said, "I'm getting a little discouraged, as I have yet to find a single 'turned' leaf."
"Tom," she replied, "you could be waiting a long time if you stay put. Because of the predominance of conifers, there never is much color along the coast. Go west, young man, into the mountains." "Oh," I said to myself, "NOW you tell me."
Doing a hasty Internet search, I found a B&B located in Bethel, a ski-resort village at the foot of the White Mountain range. Seeing good reviews on Trip Advisor, I phoned and booked a two-night stay a week hence. The innkeeper assured me that by then fall foliage in the immediate should be at or near peak.
The inn was an old Victorian in need of paint, but inside it was just fine. The owners, husband and wife, both from England, could not have been friendlier or more helpful. They even gave me directions to several spots they promised as sure bets. The covered bridge, over the Sunday River, is one of the few in Maine still standing. The vista shot, taken from atop a hill behind the inn, shows the foliage at peak color.
After two days of shooting, the second in intermittent rain, I saddled up for return to Rockport, about a three-hour drive. En route, I saw a sign for Mount Blue State Park, which I had heard, if the timing is right, can prove a veritable holy grail of color. Certain that I had lost my way to the park, I stopped at a house where a lady was outside raking leaves. I got out of the car, and, as my wont, unabashedly approached the lady, camera about my neck and hand extended.
"Hi," I said, "I'm a photographer (duh), and I'm looking for Mount Blue. I gave her my business card, explained that I lived in California and was in search of color. She put down the rake and, writing on a piece of paper I gave her, drew a map. This shot of Mt. Blue was taken pre-hike, from the dock of a lake below.
"There are two hiking trails. One is fairly flat and easy, the other more challenging. It should be obvious from the trailhead which is which. May I assume you'd prefer the former?" "Yes, indeed," I replied, "As you can see, I'm no spring chicken and climbing mountains is not high on my list of preferred recreational activities."
As fate would have it, I took the wrong trail, although not realizing the mistake until I was a good half hour into it, climbing over rock after rock, some the size of small houses. Gazing up ahead, I saw a group that had paused for drinks and a shared bag of trail mix. "How much farther is the summit?" I asked, hoping that the answer would be, "You're almost there." In fact, this was not the answer. Rather, it was "You are maybe a third of the way, but it's worth the effort. There is an observation deck and the view is spectacular."
Bullheadedly, and against my better judgment, I trudged on, expensive camera slung perilously about my neck. After continuing to climb for what seemed like days, I heard voices behind me. It was a quartet of college students (pictured here), determined to scale anew a mountain with which all were intimately familiar.
"How much farther to the top?" I inquired, panting. Replied one, "Oh, maybe 15 to 20 minutes. Need help?"
"No, thanks, I think I'll be OK." Famous last words. Shortly after they had disappeared, I came to the unsettling realization that I had hit the proverbial wall, unable to take another step.
Setting down my camera, I yelled loudly, "Help, help." Again, this time still louder, "Help, help. I need help!" Here I was, exhausted, demoralized, and fearful of what might lie ahead, literally and figuratively. For all I knew, the quartet had reached the summit and had found another way down. Here sits Tom, beat and near-panic, the more so because I had in my possession only a camera, no water, no cellphone, no flashlight. And, but for four kids who, for all I knew, might have vanished, no one knew where I was.
Head in sweating, shaking hands, I thought that this might be my final photographic excursion. Perhaps days or weeks later, someone would find the bones the bears had left behind.
I looked up and, as if placed there by the hand of God, stood the self-same quartet. Seeing that I was in a state of physical distress, handing me a partially drunk bottle of water, one said, "Here, mister, you'd better get some water in you. You appear dehydrated." Dehydrated indeed; more like about to look for the light at the end of the tunnel.
Added another, "Do you want to continue?"
"How much farther?"
"Not more than 10 to 15 minutes. We'll help you if you want help." I was not about to refuse. Help they did, taking turns alongside me, doing their best to make sure I didn't trip or slip over the rocks, which by now, with the sun lowered in the sky, had become slick.
Together, we scaled the stairs to the observation deck. Hoping against hope, I looked in vain for a medevac helicopter that might whisk me to safety.
No such luck. Was the view terrific? Yes. Was it worth it? A year hence, to be honest, I'm not sure. What I am sure of is that but for these kids, I very well might not have made it back down alive, and this is no exaggeration.
Having taken a series of photos in all directions – and yes, the view WAS spectacular – I said I was ready to head back. Part way down, I slipped on a slimy rock, falling on my hip and banging the camera against an unyielding surface. Fortunately, the lens was spared; the extent of the damage, or so I thought a the time, was a bruised camera body. (After returning home would I learn that I had smashed an essential lens filter that I had tucked into a hip pocket.)
Back in the parking lot and only slightly the worse for wear, I thanked my rescuers profusely, telling them in unexaggerated terms that they may well have saved my life.
"What say I buy you all a beer to celebrate? Have the time?"
"We have the time, but none of us is 21."
"Oh, then how about I take you all to dinner?"
I followed them back whence they came, the Farmington campus of the University of Maine. The five of us had a very nice dinner – no alcohol! – at a Thai restaurant.
When done, we shook hands, and I gave each of them a card, telling them to contact me if they cared to. "Anytime any of you visits the San Francisco area, you have a place to stay at my house. We have a guest bedroom that sees little use. The porch light will be on for you. Just call ahead."
"You serious?" one asked.
"Dead serious," instantly realizing that an adjective other than "dead" would have been the less sardonic choice.
In the ensuing fortnight, I drove seemingly everywhere I could that be done in a day's drive. One on excursion I stopped to shoot a locally famous old, weathered Ford pickup known as the "flag truck" and for obvious reasons. So, as you see, the Maine trip wasn't entirely about fall foliage and harbors and Rustic Relic subjects, serendipitously I also captured Rusted Relics.[link to Rusted Relics gallery]
A month into the journey, I was content with the images to bring home — and more than a little happy to be alive — I checked the long-range weather forecast. Ouch! For the next ten days, rain, rain and more rain.
"I'm bailing," I told myself. I contacted the airline to rebook my flight home, then called the landlady to say I was decamping early, willing to "eat" a week in rent. The rental car – plus gasoline – wasn't cheap, and then there were daily living expenses apart from the rent.
Little did I know it at the time, but smart it was to have pulled the plug prematurely. The day after I boarded the plane home from Boston, Hurricane Sandy ravaged the eastern seaboard. My final week would have been a wash (and possibly awash).
Death Valley Alive With Magnificent Photo Ops
It was not until March of 2013 that I took my next major excursion, this to Death Valley in southeastern California. I had never visited before, but a longtime family friend named Al Poncia, who knows the area like the handlebars of his Harley, volunteered not only to be my companion and Sherpa, but also to drive. Thankfully, it wasn't the Harley, but rather his extended-cab Toyota Tacoma, four-wheel drive (essential for off-roading) and fitted with a camper shell. For two people, intending as we did to lodge at motels (not camp, whew!)
Al said that early March was a good time to visit, as it wouldn't be unbearably hot and, with luck, we might catch some spring blooms. Leaving pre-dawn one morning, we arrived at our first destination, Lone Pine, by late afternoon.
Although Lone Pine isn't a place I'd like to call home, it is a tourist attraction. Movie buffs savor it as the locale where hundreds of cowboy movies were made. Photo buffs savor it for the eye-arresting natural beauty of what is called the Alabama Hills, notable for its spectacular volcanic rock formations and, not incidentally, on a clear day views of Mount Whitney, which, at 14,505 feet in elevation, is the tallest peak in the contiguous states. It is surpassed in height only by Mount McKinley in Alaska.
Having learned from Al that Natural Arch (a.k.a. Mobius Arch) is a lure for shutterbugs, after checking into our motel room, we drove a few miles out of town to scout photo ops. When the arch came into view, it became obvious why it is a favorite. It's spin-your-eyeballs spectacular. I took this photo early the following morning. A transculent half-moon obliged by winking knowingly through the opening. I think this ranks among the best of all the landscape shots I took during the entire five-day trip. As for the peekaboo moon, I wish I could say it was planned, but it wasn't. Pure luck. I credit the Irish in me.
From there we motored on, mostly through barren, boring desert, and to our next destination, a motel in Stovepipe Wells, situated at precisely sea level. En route we passed through a number of forgettable, seen-better-days burghs. One that definitely fits the description is Darwin, a onetime prosperous silver- and lead-mining town, whose population today has dwindled to approximately 28 households, 43 Darwinians all told.
The post office, nothing to write home about, as it were, remains open. This, however, is not what caught my eye. Rather, it was a passel of thoroughly rusted, abandoned vehicles just outside the city limits, if in fact there are any. Here is one of them. Although there were no brand badges to be found, I believe it was a Chevrolet. In any case, definitely Thirties vintage. If you are wondering what the strange whirligig object is in the background, so was I. Al conjectured that perhaps space aliens left it behind or that the military had moved it surreptitiously from Roswell, New Mexico.
Over the ensuing several days, Al drove hither and yon throughout Death Valley, taking me to some places "everyone" knows about and to some others that few do. Having off-roading capability made all the difference. Only Jeeps or big-horn sheep dared where we went. As we bumped along on dirt roads, I said the rosary more than once that the suspension would hold up. It did. In fact, upon returning home Al reported that an undercarriage inspection determined that no springs were broken, no new struts needed.
Bless his heart, Al even agreed to rise one morning before dawn so that I could capture photos of the sun rising over a vast expanse of sand dunes across the street from the motel. As we pulled into the parking area, it became immediately evident that I wasn't the only who had planned sunrise shots from this prime spot. Indeed, a flock of fellow photo-graphers were already there, tripod in one hand, camera in the other. As they fanned out in all directions, I fretted that I might not be able to take any shots without one or more humanoids spoiling an otherwise beautiful landscape image. I walked way off to the side, set up my tripod and looked through the camera viewfinder (mind you, the light was dim).
Voila, I said to myself, a clear, people-free shot. I clicked the shutter release and looked at the camera monitor (all of three inches wide). "Success," I declared, "no one ruining the picture." It wasn't until I returned home that, viewing the image on my 27-inch computer monitor, did I of the numerous frames exposed from the same spot did I find that only one was devoid of human form, reproduced here.
During one of our outings, we drove to the valley floor, a "must-do" stop for many tourists. In the parking lot there was a huge round thermometer, which at the time – mid-afternoon in early March — read 92 degrees. Long johns definitely not needed. A sign nearby noted that the highest temperature ever officially recorded not just in the U.S., but in the world was in Death Valley, July 10, 1913 – a mercury-melting 134 degrees Fahrenheit. (A century later, almost to the day, the thermometer came close, peaking at 129.)
On another day trip from our Stovepipe Wells basecamp, we set sail for Rhyolite, another ghost town. Rhyolite lies just west of the state line, in Nevada. Like Darwin, it once prospered as a mining mecca, but by the early 1900s, the glory days were gone. Today it is a mixture of federal and private land. Below are a couple of souvenir photos, including one of my traveling companion Al reclining on a mosaic-tile couch fashioned in more recent times by a gifted artist with a sense of whimsy. How it got there is anyone's guess.
Trip To Trio Of Other National Parks – Zion, Bryce, Grand Teton
Three months later, in June, my wife, Pat, and I embarked on a long road trip that save for the final day – driving home – was terrific.
Our first overnight stop was Las Vegas, a full day's drive from the Bay Area. If Las Vegas strikes you as heading in the wrong direction, it was, sort of. I had heard from a photographer friend about Red Rock Canyon National Conversation Area, which comprises nearly 200,000 acres of spectacular Mohave Desert landscape. It lies only 17 miles west of the Las Vegas Strip and draws a million visitors annually.
The lure for shutterbugs and casual visitors alike is the 13-mile, one-way loop road that offers sweeping, dramatic vistas. The walls are up to 3,000 feet high, and the highest point is La Madre Mountain at 8,154 feet. This photograph is an example of the jaw-dropping natural beauty.
We saddled up early the following morning, eager to reach our next destination, Zion National Park in Springdale, Utah, a drive of about three hours. Motoring through one burgh en route, out of the corner of one eye I spotted a prime Rusted Relic [link to Rusted Relics gallery] candidate, an beautifully weathered, colorful 1950s Chevy truck (shown below)[link to Trucks gallery] parked in someone's side yard. Grabbing my camera, I furtively dashed over, fearful that I might be accosted by the homeowner or worse, an attack dog. Fortunately, neither did, so I merrily snapped away.
Having arrived in Springdale by early afternoon, we schlepped our suitcases out of the car and into the motel room where we would spend the night. And what a night it was. Returning from the laundry facility, in a separate building, I looked up and saw a night sky the likes of which I had never experienced. I stopped counting at a million stars, give or take, and, undoubtedly, a few beaming satellites. As city dwellers, rarely does the opportunity arise to view the night sky in all its glory.
The next morning we boarded a free shuttle bus that took us to a visitor center, where we consulted with a park ranger who offered advice on a fairly easy hike that could be accomplished in a couple of hours and would afford rich photo ops. So, we set out on what is called the river walk. It was in fact a foot- and heart-friendly hike, and we did in fact make it back it alive and not overly fatigued. The most menacing wildlife we saw was a deer nibbling on tender tree leaves along the river bank.
A two-hour drive north the day following deposited us at our next destination, Bryce Canyon National Park, to many best known for its eyeball-spinning rock formations, including "hoodoos" (pictured below) formed from literally millions of years of limestone erosion from a combination of ice and rainwater. It also is distinctive in that it encompasses three forest regions, each with its own distinct climate zones featuring different varieties of conifers.
The dazzling natural beauty was not unexpected. What WAS unexpected was discovery of a clutch of prehistoric, brand-unidentifiable Rusted Relics (shown below) – thoroughly rusted, abandoned cars and trucks clustered on the front lawn of our motel. It was like an open-air mini-museum, and I gratefully helped myself to the serendipitous photo op.
Final stop on our road odyssey was Grand Teton National Park outside Jackson, Wyoming. The government website describes it as offering "mountains of the imagination" that fairly teem with extraordinary wildlife, pristine lakes and alpine terrain. This is a ground-level image of a pond in a local National Elk Refuge. (Although no elks said hello, if you look closely, in the center you may note a duck, which paddled by as if on cue.)
Two full days there yielded more than a few keeper landscape photographs – a couple shown here – a hike on the opposite side of Jenny Lake, accessed by boat, a rafting down the Snake River and capped by sunrise shots of a famous barn that may be second only to the Golden Gate Bridge as most photographed object in the Western Hemisphere. When I arrived it was still dark and yet a number of other photographers had already set up their tripods, awaiting the appearance of El Sol.
Nevertheless, I managed to find a spot that not only afford a good angle, but also avoided including other picture-takers in the field of view.
Having "done" Grand Teton, we consulted a map – a print map, if you can believe – to plot our way home. Then, acquiescing to modern technology, I did an online search for best-bet photo ops between Jackson and Twin Falls, Idaho, where we planned to spend the night, then head back to the ranch the day following.
The big tourist attraction in Twin Falls, according to Trip Advisor reviews, was, if you can believe, Twin Falls, described by one visitor as a sight to behold, yea, verily, "the Niagara Falls of the West." Shazam! I've been to Niagara Falls, and it's pretty spectacular, so I was excited at the prospect of seeing a clone thereof.
According to Google reckoning, the drive from Jackson to Twin Falls is 248 miles, or roughly four hours. In between there wasn't much to see. We made a pit stop in Pocatello, home to Idaho State University, and more fast-food joints than anyone would care to count. Our take on Pocatello: Take it, please. Once within the city limits of Twin Falls, we started looking for the waterfall. Unfortunately, we found it. I say unfortunately because it was a huge letdown. At the entrance to the state park wherein the water falls is a huge sign similar to those erected to indicate fire-danger level. The pointer sat on Low, but in this case the low referred to water flow, not fire hazard. This could be construed only as an infelicitous omen.
From the parking lot we could behold said "Niagara Falls of the West." Two separate waterfalls, hence the name, but combined the volume was equal to that one would expect the bathtub spigot in a house with good water pressure. I was so disappointed, in fact, that I wanted to hurl my body, camera and all, over the falls. I may not have been the first to be so impelled, as there was a tall chain-link fence to prevent a pileup of bodies of chagrined photographers. Suffice to say, our interest in Twin Falls rapidly dried up.
Rather than spend the night there, the prospect of which did not appeal, we decided to push on to Elko, Nevada, and try our lodging luck there. What the heck, only another two-and-a-half hours. We decided to water the horse and, fingers crossed, push ahead.
About an hour on, we galloped into the hamlet of Jackpot, which sits just inside the northern Nevada border. Nevada, of course, is synonymous with gambling, but it wasn't the clutch of casinos lining Interstate 93 that caught my eye. Rather, it was an old, beat-up, abandoned, unloved, forlorn, orphaned pickup truck that prompted me to apply tbrakes and reach for my camera bag. Upon closer inspection, I determined that it was a Ford, and, I guessed, a 1950 model. Save for twin stack exhaust pipes (one visible here), it looked pretty original save. Perched forlornly in scraggly weeds and with mountains and cloudy sky in the background, it ranks among my favorite old-truck images, and I have hundreds of them.
Anyone who has visited Elko knows that the town consists of roughly 5,000 casinos and nearly as many hostels. Therefore, one need not call ahead to make a reservation, correct? In most instances, correct, but not this time. Unbeknownst to us, there was a huge miners convention in town (miners convention?), and, we quickly learned, there literally was nary a bed unspoken for. Surely I jest; surely I do NOT jest.
I asked the front-desk clerk at the Holiday Inn Express how far the nearest town was farther south. Answer: Some two hours as the crow flies, roughly the same for a low-flying Toyota Highlander.
Having just learned a painful lesson, we actually did phone ahead. After a number calls, voila, Pat found a place called Val-U Inn that, by the grace of God, had a vacancy. Rate: $60. The way we felt (exhausted), we'd have paid twice that for a hammock under a tree where diarrhetic pigeons were holding a convention. Soon were we to feel differently (albeit still exhausted).
I walked to the front desk of the Val-U Inn, where one suspects most rooms are rented by the hour, and announced myself as Mr. Black, who had just made a reservation.
"Ah, yes, Mr. Black. We have a room for you, two twin beds, private bath."
Looking about and trying to imagine I was in the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton, I asked if I could see the room first.
The clerk, missing a few teeth but obviously having missed no meals in years, nodded to a man standing to the side, presumably her husband, boyfriend, or object of passion for the next hour, maybe longer.
"George, would you please show Mr. Black the room?"
George, less generous of girth but likewise shy of a full set of choppers, replied, "Sure. Mr. Black, follow me."
Down a dark, dank, fetid hall we walked. It smelled like an ashtray. George stopped, looked up at the room number – 102 – and said, "This is it."
"I'd like a look inside."
"No problem," he replied, opening the door the old-fashioned way, with a key.
As I fully expected, I did not need to linger to determine that the imaginary hammock seemed preferable.
Looking sheepishly at my escort and forcing a smile, I said, "I think I'll pass."
Reply, and I am not making this up: "I don't blame you." Perhaps George needs a quick refresher on salesmanship. In any case, it was a line I will not soon forget.
Even though my encounter with the Val-U Inn is mercifully brief, I still feel as though I ought to shower before getting back into the car. This not being a practical option, instead I walked over to McDonald's and purchased two Quadruple Gulp-sized chocolate shakes with fake whipped cream topping. No, I did not quaff both of them. Loving mate than I am, I handed one to Pat. That was dinner.
A mere three hours later, as the clock was about to strike midnight, we walked into the lobby of a Holiday Inn Express, which, thank the Lord, had a vacancy. At this point, we weren't terribly picky. Handed our room "key" – an encoded plastic card, of course – we took the elevator to 313, entered, and within nanoseconds, both of us were in bed and sound asleep, more like semi-embalmed. Between Jackson and Reno, 16.5 hours on the road, 715 miles on the odometer, farthest I have ever driven by myself in a single day. It's a personal best – or worst – I'll let stand.
Slipping, Sliding And Melting at Glacier National Park
The most recent trip, in mid-September 2013, took us to what friends of ours who have been described as offering jaw-dropping natural beauty. Hearing that, we were especially eager to visit. It required a flight from Oakland to Seattle, then transferring to a aged prop plane that might well have served in World War I. Actually, the flight itself, to Missoula, wasn't bad. It was the bumpy landing that got everyone's attention. Over the intercom we heard, "Sorry about that, folks. That wasn't the pilot's fault or the plane's fault. It was the asphalt." Ha ha.
In our rental car, a low-mileage 4WD Chevrolet Traverse, we motored north 2.5 hours, to the lovely little town of Whitefish (pop. 6,357), nestled against Whitefish Lake and peering up at a popular ski resort on Big Mountain. The mountains, as pictured below, were aglow in the sunset from the Whitefish city beach. (Again, a little duck entered the field of view.)
Our first full day there was strictly recon, driving 33 miles from our hotel into the park through the southwestern portal. Just inside was a visitors center where we asked a ranger for advice on where best bets are for scenery. Answer: Going-To-The-Sun Road, which wends from there 52 miles into the interior of the park and ending at Many Glacier. Before returning to the hotel, we walked from the visitors center to a beach (of sorts) at the southern end of Lake McDonald. Here is one of the photos I took. I had taken a dozen or so and was about to pack up when, as if on command, the sailboat entered the scene.
The following day, we joined a steady queue of cars on the tortuous, two-lane road that offers spectacular views, but only a few turnouts. Construction activity narrowed the road to take-turns one-way traffic in several spots, which did not add to the enjoyment.
We stopped midway at Logan Pass, another visitors center, where, of course, there were rangers, but no food or beverage other than that from a drinking fountain. Asked for a recommendation on a short, Pacemaker-friendly hike, a ranger pointed out the window to a trailhead that, he said, led to a knock-your-socks-off view of Hidden Lake.
Although the ascent was only some 500 feet and the trail was maintained, it was more arduous than we bargained for, especially as it was mid-afternoon with temperatures in the mid-80s and us with no bottled water. It took us an hour-and-a-half to reach the summit, where, sure enough, there were nice views of Hidden Lake (below). Unfortunately, the "money" shot was into the sun, resulting in a number of shots spoiled by what is called lens flare, wherein the light admitted into the camera reflects off the mirror in an undesired manner. The exposure here somehow managed to escape the dreaded effect.
We were assured by several people descending from the summit that the climb was worth the effort. Was it in fact? Not if you asked either of us. Hour-and-a-half up, one hour down, thoroughly dehydrated, me especially, as I was lugging a 15-pound camera backpack and tripod. After a visit to the water fountain, we were back in the car. An hour later we arrived at Many Glacier, where there is a 100-year-old hotel under restoration. We had an early dinner there, then headed home. Owing to a misread of the map from a navigator who shall remain unnamed, we went way out of our way, but eventually made it back, in the pitch dark, to the hotel. A steaming hot tub spoke to us.
Another of the few keeper photos from Glacier is this shot from Lake McDonald's southern beach near the visitors center at the western portal to the park. Instead of a ducky, a bright-yellow sailboat obligingly slipped into view just as I was poised to release the shutter. (The frothy stuff at the bottom is foam.)
Although the scenery is undeniably spectacular, Glacier is the equally undeniable victim of global warming, or, if you prefer, "climate change." At the turn of the 20th century there were an estimated 150 active glaciers; today there are two-dozen. It is predicted that by the year 2030 the number will be zero.
On the day we said farewell to Whitefish, we encountered several old trucks that spoke to me, including a pair of thoroughly rusted 1947 Fords, one of which is seen below. Peering inside one of them, I saw a For Sale that read "$2,500 The Pair." A deal at twice the price.
Two hours later we were back in Missoula. With time to kill before our return flight departed, we casually strolled a nearly deserted University of Montana campus, where smoking is banned everywhere, even outdoors. Arriving home at nearly midnight and thoroughly travel-weary, neither of us had any difficulty getting to sleep.
Posted In: Blog, Travel.
Content and Images © 2021 Thomas F. Black Photography


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Pingala
Acharya Pingala (Devanagari: पिङ्गल piṅgala) (c. 3rd/2nd century BCE) was an ancient Indian mathematician who authored the Chandaḥśāstra (also called Pingala-sutras), the earliest known treatise on Sanskrit prosody.The Chandaḥśāstra is a work of eight chapters in the late Sūtra style, not fully comprehensible without a commentary. It has been dated to the last few centuries BCE. The 10th century mathematician Halayudha wrote a commentary on the Chandaḥśāstra and expanded it.
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A. Allocation Programming Identification
B. Application Programming Interface
C. Application Perseverance Internet
D. Allocation Perseverance Interface


The tractor bucket full of food is from my raised garden.
I am installing raised garden beds at the olive farm to grow herbs and vegetables.Raised bed will really extend the growing season as suggested by experts.
Perhaps the most important advantage is greatly reduced soil compaction. Plant roots need air. In an ordinary garden, you can't avoid stepping in the garden bed occasionally when doing your everyday gardening. A properly designed raised bed garden allows you to do all your gardening from the garden path.
I have used 4x4 redwood posts cut to 24 inches, and 2x12x20 Douglas fir planks, The planks are lag bolted with galvanized 1/4 inch x 3 inch bolts and washers.
I painted the Douglas fir with water soluble and toxic free, elastomeric paint to seal the wood.You will understand my wood choice after you price cedar and redwood,all wood will eventually rot out.The secret is to bolt the planks to the 4x4 for easy replacement in the future.
Dig a hole about 18 inches or so deep, and set the 4x4 posts in.I put a shovel load or two of concrete just for stability.
Four Boxes five feet wide by twenty feet long for a total of one hundred square feet of planting area per box.I have heavy clay soil so I tilled gypsum into the clay,later add a good planting soil.Before the soil, for gopher and ground squirrel control lay chicken wire at the bottom of the plank,double it to reduce the size of the openings.I purchased my soil choice from the local nursery and they delivered about 8 yards for me.
Also,see the irrigation pipe in the corner at the far end of the box, it's 3/4 inch, class 200 PVC.This is the most cost effective and great for the drip system feed line.Upstream from what you see in the photo is a shut off valve at the main line.
I like the varied elevation of the beds and am importing fill dirt in between the boxes.Later I will add gravel so I don't step in any mud.
1.eliminate harmful soil compaction by utilizing the path around the bed.
2.Soil conditions and types can be controlled more efficiently in a raised bed and they can be varied easily from bed to bed. Raised beds are the answer when topsoil is thin.
3.A raised garden bed brings the garden to you, making it easier to apply compost,nutrients or just weeding.
4.There is something pleasing to the eye when looking at a raised vegetable garden.
5.Various studies have shown that raised garden beds produce 1.4 to 2 times as much vegetables and flowers per square foot as ordinary beds, due mainly to the above advantages. You can have a smaller and more manageable garden that produces more goodies for your table.
The above picture is the finished raised vegetable garden this garden yielded enough vegetables to probably support two families.
Below is an example of an artichoke we grew in the raised box, we would have not attempted this in a basic garden.


Duccio di Buoninsegna (c. 1255-1260 - c. 1318-1319) was an Italian artist, active in the city of Siena in Tuscany, where he was born, in the late 13th and early fourteenth centuries.
Much about his early life and family is uncertain; but there are records that say he was married with seven children. Although there is a lot still unconfirmed about Duccio and his life, there is more documentation of him than of other Italian painters of his time and earlier. A large part his life must be reconstructed from the evidence of works that can be attributed to him with certainty, and from the evidence contained in his stylistic development.
There are many times that he had debts and fines, leading historians to believe that he had a difficult time managing his life and his money. His artistic talents were enough to overshadow his lack of organization as a citizen, and he became famous in his own lifetime. In the 1300s Duccio became one of the most favored and radical painters in Siena. He is considered to be the father of Sienese painting and along with a few others the founder of Western art. He was hired throughout his life to complete many important works in government and religious buildings around Italy. Duccio is credited with creating the painting style of Trecento and the Sienese school, and contributed significantly to the Sienese Gothic style.
Duccio began to break down the sharp lines of Byzantine art, and soften the figures. He used modeling (playing with light and dark colors) to reveal the figures underneath the heavy drapery; hands, faces, and feet became more rounded and three-dimensional.


The update see the change of the 'add library' button renamed to 'manage library', which allows easy access to the Native Access application.
5.7.0 update fixes the issue of Kontakt crashing when attempting to duplicate a track within certain DAWs.
This is a free update to registered Kontakt 5 users. You can download your update either through the Native Instruments Service Center or by using the new Native Access application.
The latest version of the FREE Kontakt Player V5.7.0 can be downloaded from the Native Instruments website, linked here.
The update links the Add/Authorize Library buttons to Native Access, simplifying installation and authorization. As part of this change, all 3rd Party Kontakt Player Libraries can now be managed from within Native Access.
5.6.8 also fixes bugs and adds one minor KSP feature related to tables and the XY pad.
The latest version of the FREE Kontakt Player V5.6.8 can be downloaded from the Native Instruments website, linked here.
Added: New KSP built-in variable ($NI_CONTROL_PAR_IDX) returns the index of the element triggering a UI callback; applies to tables and the XY Pad.
Changed: Add & Activate Library buttons now launch Native Access which now also supports 3rd party Libraries.
Fixed: The frame rate would drop significantly if multiple waveform displays were used on a KSP UI.
Fixed: The Missing Samples dialog would always suggest the default user folder instead of the folder the NKIs are in.
Fixed: Crash when switching to Mini View under circumstances.
Fixed: Using get_control_par () with $CONTROL_PAR_ALLOW_AUTOMATION now returns the correct value instead of always 0.
Fixed: Certain Bank properties would be discarded when re-saving NKSNs.
Known Issue: The documentation is not up to date.
21st February 2017: Native Instruments have released an update, version 5.6.6 to their Kontakt 5 engine.
The latest version of the FREE Kontakt 5.6.6 Player can be downloaded from the Native Instruments website, linked here.
If you are looking for an archived installer for the Kontakt Player, please see here for the older Kontakt 5 Player installers.
Native Instruments have released an update, version 5.6.5 to their Kontakt 5 engine.
The latest version of the FREE Kontakt 5.6.5 Player can be downloaded from the Native Instruments website, linked here.
•New KSP UI control: XY Pad.
•Re-introduced the Global Purge controls (removed with 5.6.0) as part of the File menu.
•Some effects would block sound when loaded through KSP.
•The Group MIDI Channel setting menu was broken.
•Vertical window resizing was sluggish under certain conditions.
•The KSP bitwise operators would cause parse errors in certain cases.
•Crash when double-clicking on the header of Expert>Groups tab.
•Crash when using certain context menus.
•Crash when using the Next / Previous NKI buttons under certain conditions.
•The size of the Quickload area was always reset after restarting Kontakt.
•There was a graphical issue with level meters on instrument Performance Views.
•The "Unwind Automation" setting was ignored by automation assignments made via KSP.
•Issues with certain audio interfaces when using Kontakt standalone.
•a bug within the PGS callback (KSP) caused instruments to load incorrectly when using the arrow keys to change presets.
•when naming a new NKI, the name change was not immediately updated.
•KOMPLETE KONTROL and MASCHINE 2.
•Time Machine Pro voice settings can be controlled from KSP.
•Developers can change the contents of an FX Slots from KSP.
•Time related effect parameters can be controlled via KSP (Delay, Chorus, Flanger, Phaser).
•The way that users interact with parameters associated with time within FX has been improved with more consistent behaviour.
•There are no longer CPU spikes when manipulating the host-tempo while playing back a Kontakt instrument.
•Performance has been increased when processing MIDI CC events.
•In some scenarios Sample Modelling´s "The Trumpet" was de-tuned by a a few cents on Mac OS.
•Fixed an activation issue on specific high-end machines.
•Fixed a batch-resave issue which would remove mappings from instruments in rare cases.
•Fixed an issue with only two folders being displayed if snapshots were in subfolders.
•Fixed an issue with key switches not being displayed on the virtual keyboard after project recall.
•Fixed the background loading display on the snapshot tab.
•Fixed a crash quickly opening and closing the GUI which occurred with various DAWs.
•Fixed a crash related to Rise and Hit and Logic Pro.
•Fixed a crash with the feedback compressor in the output section.


Bryan Cave Leighton Paisner's Kansas City office opened in 1988 to meet the needs of clients in the western part of Missouri, as well as in Kansas, Iowa, Nebraska and Oklahoma. With more than 85 lawyers and other professionals, we practice in a wide range of legal services with a particular emphasis on corporate, banking, commercial litigation, real estate, labor and employment, restructuring and securities work. Our lawyers are consistently honored in publications such as Best Lawyers in America, Chambers USA and Super Lawyers.
Our Kansas City office offers the advantages and resources of a large international law firm coupled with the atmosphere of a location in the heartland. The people in our office have a strong sense of civic responsibility. We share a vision and commitment to make the communities we live in better. Our lawyers and staff contribute countless hours toward charitable organizations, local, regional and national entities, advocacy groups, schools and many other community organizations where our involvement makes a difference. Our lawyers and staff lend support to programs such as: Legal Aid of Western Missouri; Operation Breakthrough; Urban League of Kansas City; American Heart Association; Jewish Family Services; Boy's and Girl's Clubs of Greater KC; Heart of America United Way; Rose Brooks Center; Habitat for Humanity; Volunteer Attorney Project; Harvesters, Community Food Network; The Ronald McDonald House; and The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Our pro bono services have been recognized with awards from the The Missouri Bar and the Kansas City Metropolitan Bar Association.
In Kansas City, we support numerous programs and sponsorships aimed at increasing diversity in the workplace. We commit to programs and sponsorships to support key initiatives in our city, such as the University of Missouri-Kansas City Professor Robert Downs and Pipeline to the Future scholarships; the University of Kansas, Diversity in Law Banquet and Journey to J.D. Summer Camp scholarships; and the annual Heartland Diversity Legal Job Fair. Our differences bring richness to our professional experiences and enable us to better serve our clients. It takes every one of us in the Kansas City office to carry the responsibility of serving our clients and we embrace every opportunity to do so.


How Many Greater Swiss Mountain Dogs in the United States?
To complement the recent Greater Swiss Mountain Dog Health Survey on the OFA website (http://www.offa.org/surveys/survey_swissy.html), I've created a graph of American Kennel Club registrations by year broken down into dogs and litters.
*1995 was the first year of registrations for the GSMD. There were not 931 dogs born that year. Many of those dogs (adults mostly) were registered for the first time with AKC in 1995. It is more representative of the number of actual Swissies in the US as opposed to number of puppies only.
*There are some dogs that are not registered. I'm would make a very rough estimate of 5-15% based on the number of people I know with registered / unregistered dogs. You can make your own estimates and apply them to AKC's records.
*Not all dogs are registered because people forget to register their dogs or the "breeders" don't find registration valuable.


I know Focused is a creative writing app in the first place, but I would like it to be better at copy/paste actions of html sources. Copy a portion of text (preferably a numbered list) from a webpage, paste it in Focused, and then try to edit it, and you'l see what I mean. As far as I can tell, Focused has no option to force a 'plain text' paste. Are there plans to improve Focused on this point?


can provide fulfillment only to a point.
This is the fifth (#5) in a series of 100-word posts I plan to write. My ultimate goal is to create 100 of these posts in no set time frame. Thanks for following along!


Mario Montana leads the reader of the Master Deck on the path of the secret sources of self-discovery and wisdom. Episodes of Jesus Christ's life, which are presented as spiritual truth, are shown on the cards designed by Amergio Folchi, helping to recreate the traditional 78 cards of the Arcana. Though both the artist and the writer do not view themselves as Christian, they created this deck to honor the Master Jesus Christ as they see him; a man of divine truths and experiences that they hope to bring into their own lives and the lives of others.


Just east of the airport, this hotel is within 7 miles of downtown Miami, Coral Gables, and Coconut Grove.
Embassy Suites offers complimentary cooked-to-order breakfast served in the tropical atrium each morning. Guests can attend a 2-hour daily manager's reception with unlimited cocktails, beer, and wine. Grill 305 offers lunch and dinner.
The hotel also offers a computer station and Internet point. Wireless Internet access is available throughout the hotel (surcharge), as well as valet parking (surcharge).
Amenities include a swimming pool with patio seating, a fitness center, and a garden. The hotel has been awarded Florida Green Lodging Certification.
Located a half-mile from Miami International Airport, this all-suite hotel is within 10 miles of South Beach and the Port of Miami.
This Miami hotel offers an outdoor pool with sundeck, complimentary cooked-to-order breakfast, and complimentary daily manager's reception.
Built around a 10-story atrium, the 318 guest suites feature balconies, coffeemakers, wet bars, refrigerators, and microwaves.
Embassy Suites by Hilton Miami International Airport offers 318 air-conditioned accommodations with video-game consoles and coffee/tea makers. Rooms open to balconies. Accommodations offer separate living rooms and include sofa beds. LCD televisions come with premium cable channels and pay movies. Accommodations at this 3.5-star hotel have kitchenettes with refrigerators and microwaves. Bathrooms include shower/tub combinations, designer toiletries, complimentary toiletries, and hair dryers. This Miami hotel provides wired and wireless Internet access for a surcharge. Business-friendly amenities include desks, complimentary weekday newspapers, and phones. In-room massages and hypo-allergenic bedding can be requested. Housekeeping is provided daily.
A complimentary cooked-to-order breakfast is provided each morning in the tropical atrium.
The hotel hosts a complimentary manager's reception daily.
Grill 305 - classic American cuisine combined with local Miami influences.
Kids stay free! Up to 4 children 15 years old and younger stay free when using existing bedding.
This property offers transfers from the cruise terminal (surcharges may apply). Guests must contact the property with arrival details before travel, using the contact information on the booking confirmation.


As you may recall from our previous posts regarding student's online speech, the summer of 2011 brought with it a split in the Circuit Courts regarding how to handle discipline of student's off-campus online speech. Specifically, the cases J.S. v. Blue Mountain Sch. Dist. and Layshock v. Hermitage Sch. Dist. out of the Third Circuit and Kowalski v. Berkeley County Schools out of the Fourth Circuit, all three involving students' online speech, were appealed to the Supreme Court. of the United States. The two cases from the Third Circuit ruled in favor of the students, finding that their speech was protected by the First Amendment, while the Kowalski v. Berkeley County Schools out of the Fourth Circuit, was decided in favor of the school district. Our hopes were that the Supreme Court would weigh in on this controversial issue of student's off campus online speech and provide school districts and administrators with clear guidance regarding how to appropriately discipline students' off-campus speech, but unfortunately, the Supreme Court has declined to hear the cases that were brought before it regarding off-campus online speech. So, where does that leave us?
As discussed elsewhere on our blog, schools in Connecticut should be aware of other Circuit Courts decisions regarding student's off-campus online speech cases, but administrators and school officials should understand that the Second Circuit decision Doninger v. Niehoff, 527 F.3d 41 (2d Cir. 2008) is still the controlling authority for districts in Connecticut. As you may recall from earlier posts, the Second Circuit in the Doninger case held that the student was properly disciplined for her off-campus blog and was not permitted to run for class office as the conduct on the blog was unbecoming for a potential class officer, and the blog post created a foreseeable risk of substantial disruption at her school. The Second Circuit applied the Tinker analysis to the off-campus speech and found that the school could discipline for off-campus speech, which created a foreseeable risk of substantial disruption at her school. As such, Doninger was unsuccessful in her attempt to force the school district to allow her to run for class office. Hence, school districts in Connecticut should continue to follow the standard set in Doninger and apply the Tinker analysis to off-campus speech determine whether the off-campus speech created a foreseeable risk of substantial disruption or created a substantial disruption at school. In addition, school districts, if not already familiar, should become very familiar with the new language and requirements of the Connecticut bullying statute, including the provisions relating to cyberbullying, that became effective in July 2011.
It is interesting that the Supreme Court declined the opportunity to hear J.S. v. Blue Mountain Sch. Dist., Layshock v. Hermitage Sch. Dist. and Kowalski v. Berkeley County Schools, since the Supreme Court passed up an opportunity to resolve an apparent split of authority amongst the Circuits, leaving the Circuits to continue to develop further case law on this issue. As discussed previously on this blog, both J.S. v. Blue Mountain Sch. Dist. and Layshock v. Hermitage Sch. Dist. involved student's creating fake MySpace profiles of school officials on their home computers that were vulgar, lewd and offensive and were suspended for ten days. The Third Circuit found in both the cases that the off-campus speech did not disrupt the school environment nor was there any reasonably foreseeable disruption that would have occurred from each student's off-campus conduct and that the school district violated the First Amendment by punishing the students for expressive conduct that occurred outside the school context. Conversely, the Fourth Circuit in Kowalski v. Berkeley County Schools upheld the school's discipline of a student who created a MySpace group, which was primarily aimed at harassing another student, stating that the student's speech "caused interference and disruption described in Tinker as being immune from First Amendment protection."
For now, we follow Doninger and wait.


The Hoka One One Mafate Speed claimed to be a bombproof trail shoe sporting maximal cushioning, 4mm off set, and huge 30+mm stack heights, while also reducing weight. Compared to the Pearl Izumi Trail N1, the Mafate proved more expensive with similar weight and geometry. The Hoka One One Mafate Speed stayed stable on linear terrain but did not bode well on technical trails. This shoe is best suited for mid to ultra trail running on primary non-technical straightforward trails.
Hoka One One's hallmark Mafate Speed was reintroduced in true form with maximal cushioning. The metarocker geometry that carried forward from previous models lent an efficient ride with good speed despite moderate weight. Unfortunately the sole of the shoe did show early signs of wear over the forefoot rocker. Hi-abrasion rubber was present but only over the lateral heel (for you heel strikers) and otherwise only sparingly in 2 small strips over the forefoot. The upper and outer proved easy to clean with a hose and cloth.
CMEVA upper mid sole provided the trademark Hoka cloud-like feel. The active foot frame allowed the foot to sink within the midsole and gave a comfortable feel. Where I felt comfortable walking, my forefoot was sloppy and there was too much lateral motion when running. The no-sew speed frame upper proved challenging to create a stable lock using the speed lacing system. This being said the forefoot real estate was rather narrow despite the shoe's footprint and with longer runs forefoot splay was restricted.
Total contact sole with spongy rubber ensured ample ground contact but this proved reliable only when running straight. Medial-lateral stability was poor at best with running on dewed grass and downhill mud, even with berms. Large stack heights and a super firm midsole elevated my ankle's center of mass, which gave the feeling I was holding back. For this reason I was unstable on ground other than cross country trails.
Despite a heavy weight this shoe had get up. Forefoot lugs secured ground contact ensuring fast uphill runs without backsplash. An insanely firm mid foot supported a quick turn over. I suspect, as with the whole Hoka line, it's geometry had a lot to thank for this. Linear running was a blast yet agility proved sloppy due to poor fit.
The early meta-rocker worked to counter the maximal cushioning. Hoka has nailed down the balance of cushioning to a responsive ride with a 4mm drop and it's midsole material. There was a sensation of springiness on both levels and grades.
An outsole of RMAT material was added under layers of EVA foam for added durability however high abrasion rubber was sparse. The central lugs showed signs of wear after 20 miles and could be made more robust. With a reduction in weight I felt the shoe's durability took a hit.
At $170 this is the apex of the Hoka One One line. Hoka One One's 2014 road line was well received and captured a wider demographic of runner but the mafate speed will remain a niche product for select followers. For those running in earlier versions, this new model will be a sure catch. For the runner looking to break into a maximal or supportive trail shoe this is not the shoe to start with.


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Boys & Girls Clubs of Maui announce Reservation-only Summer Day Camp
By Staff | Jul 9, 2020
Director of Operations Stephen Bennett and clubhouse directors practice the summer day camp check-in process in preparation for July 1.
LAHAINA – Boys & Girls Clubs of Maui began welcoming members for Reservation-only Summer Day Camp on July 1 at the Central, Haiku, Lahaina and Makawao clubhouses.
"This is going to be a very different summer at the Boys & Girls Clubs; drop-in hours have been discontinued, space will be limited and many of our members will continue to join us virtually," said Director of Operations Stephen Bennett.
"We are doing our best to serve as many youth and families as possible during these ever-changing times and appreciate the patience, understanding and support of the community as we continue to adjust our programs to meet our members most pressing needs."
Program hours will be 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. with a goal to provide onsite programming to small groups of existing members ages 9-11, children of essential workers and those returning to work while following all of the new health and safety regulations due to COVID-19.
Membership fees remain waived until June 30, 2021 to accommodate families who've been impacted financially.
"We are grateful for the support we've received from the County of Maui and our community partners," said CEO Kelly Pearson.
"We rely on this support to continue our mission of serving Maui's youth and families, and remain accessible to those who need us most."
Find more information about Reservation-only Summer Day Camp at www.bgcmaui.org/reserve.


Will I have probles getting tags fir vehicle after accident?
How do I know if I was left a life insurance policy?
how long does it take for a life insurance check to clear?
Who could benefit from an Appointment Setter?
life insurance rejection appeal form letter?
what is foreclosure in lifeinsurance ?
Can life insurance policy be changed once the owner dies?
what is minium age for life insurance??
how can we locate my dad's whole life insurance policy?


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text:
Redeemer star Conroy
is on top of the world!
Ireland and Redeemer Bowling Club star Kevin Conroy was recently crowned World Singles champion at the World Short Mat Bowls Championships in Cardiff, Wales recently.
With no fewer than 13 countries taking part in the event across four individual competitions: Singles, Pairs, Triples and Fours, Kevin knew he would have to be at the top of his game to have any chance of claiming his first World Singles title.
Kevin is no stranger to the World Championships, having already won the Fours in 2012 and the Triples in 2000, but the Singles is the one he was most hungry for especially as he was beaten in the final 10 years earlier.
In the group stages, which comprised of 10 countries, Conroy started off against Belgium. Each country had to be played with the top two qualifying from each group for the semi-final stages.
Over the nine matches in his group, Kevin topped the table to reach the semi-finals, destroying the majority of his opponents and racking up a shot difference of +110. He played some incredible bowls and looked unstoppable in some of his matches which is why he is highly regarded as one of the best, if not the best, bowler in the country.
In the semi-finals Kevin faced his fellow countryman, John Quinn, from Donegal. As expected, this was a titanic battle from start to finish with some of the best drawing bowls you will see from both players.
In the end, Conroy just edged it 12-7 in a fascinating match to set up a final showdown with Luke Haddon from Wales.
In the final, Kevin started off well, picking up two shots in the first end before racing into a 6-2 lead after five ends. He never looked back after that and after nine ends the score was 12-3.
The Welshman was finding it difficult to live with Kevin's bowls and with two ends to spare the match finally ended 15-6 and Conroy was crowned world champion and a worthy champion at that.
It was a very proud moment for Conroy as it was witnessed by his wife Donna and two sons Wyatt and Oscar who were also the Irish team's mascots.
Kevin now only needs the Pairs to complete the full set of World titles which would be a remarkable achievement in such a short time span.
He is already one the most decorated short mat bowlers around and will no doubt continue to break records over the coming years.
The Irish team in total had great success at World Bowls this year, taking home three of the four titles available.
Congratulations to all the winners and also to local players Billy Taaffe, Sean Trainor and Paddy Hanlon from Redeemer/Cooley on finishing a very respectable 3rd in the World Triples.